Hello. I still exist lol. Bit of a departure this one, for me anyways. Consider this my way to exercise the awful Moxley/Ambrose demon that has been tormenting me for like, ever. I don't even know why I like him so much gah, but I do. Some more characters than the norm here. Shield boys, the McMahon's etc. I have some more written but wanted to gauge the reaction, if there's a reaction at all! Be gentle. It's been a while.

The red and blue lights were already reflecting against the water when Seth Rollins arrived at the scene. The area was practically desolate apart from this one abandoned hut-like building at the bank of the river. He stepped out of the black SUV, boots crunching on the icy ground, and let his eyes run over the place. Now that he was here, it wasn't difficult to see why their perp had chosen this location to commit his crime. Other than the few houses he passed along the way, there was nothing.

"Where is she?" As he spoke, little puffs of white accompanied his words. It was below freezing and the frigid night air was threatening to snow. The black stillness of the water just a few feet away could have created an eerie atmosphere if not for the various police and technicians all over the place.

"We found her over here."

Seth followed the young uniformed cop. He must have been fresh out of the academy. Or maybe the kid was just wet behind the ears, at least compared to him. Bloomington was a small enough town but Seth had risen through the ranks as fast as any young uniform could hope to do. Now he was Deputy Sheriff and one of the most respected law enforcement officers in the county.

"We?"

"Well, I didn't find her. We…my partner and I, we got the call. Stolen car. Some people up the road reported it swerving and then smoke. Cars out the back all burnt up."

Both men ducked under a wayward support beam as they walked through the broken structure and then stopped short; the place was falling apart. The crime scene unit was already there, working diligently to secure the scene and start gathering evidence.

Seth let his eyes look upon the body. A little lump gathered in his throat. No matter how many times…it never got easy.

She was laid up against a wooden post. Blue skin and bulging eyes. Did she look familiar? It was the gaping stab wound in her chest that drew his attention. Seth cautiously stepped closer and crouched down, careful not to let himself touch her in any way. It was a massive hole and had clearly been delivered with brute force. No sign of blood in the immediate vicinity. It must have happened somewhere else.

"Rollins," nodded the lead at the scene.

"Hey man," Seth nodded back. "What are you thinking?"

"Don't know what to think yet. I can tell you this much though, she wasn't murdered here."

Seth nodded again. "Yeah. Or we've got a very clean killer on our hands."

The crime scene tech scoffed. "Not likely. Sheriff here yet?"

"I called him before I left. Should be here soon." Seth recalled the other man's tone when he got the news. Apparently, it was date night. Well, for him too. He had left the lovely Becky before they even had a chance to eat dessert. It was going well between them. It had to be considering this would now mark the third time he had run out on her during a date. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't be their last.

"Good. Wanted to run over a different case with him while he's here."

"What one?"

"Weisman. The drug murder from two weeks ago."

Seth stood and straightened his jacket. "You think they're connected?"

"Look at her arms." The tech pointed to the visible track marks at the inward bend of each arm. The little black holes lay in stark contrast to her frosty pale skin. "There's been a string of drug-related deaths coming through the doors lately. A whole lotta bodies with a whole lotta trackies on their arms like little Miss. Frozen over here. I think they're all connected.

Seth slowly nodded. The guy had a point. "I'm the lead on Weisman. Ask away."

It was the faint buzzing that startled her.

Stephanie opened her eyes and blinked. Had she fallen asleep?

The blue light from the cell phone on the coffee table slowly faded and then disappeared but it was enough to alert her tired eyes. When she had sat down on the sofa with a grant application and a glass of wine there had still been daylight sifting in through the windows. Now the place was in darkness.

How long had she been sleeping for anyway? A quick glance at the mantle revealed it was just after one.

In the morning.

A slight quiver developed in her gut when she looked around and realised she was alone but it quickly settled. Her daughter was staying at a friend's house and her son was away with his baseball team for a game. The message on the phone revealed that they had won and he struck out three guys on the opposite team. A smile tugged at her lips. The Coach at school had been telling her for years that he was talented. A genuine prospect even. But Stephanie wrote it off as the Coach paying lip service to the Principal…which just so happened to be her.

Her son signed off his message with a little 'x' and her smile turned to a full-blown grin. Even at 17, he was still the sweetest boy. Stephanie wished she could say the same for her beautiful daughter who hadn't bothered to get in touch all night.

She blew out a breath.

At 15 the girl was driving her parents nuts with her attitude and behavior. It was clearly just a phase but both she and her husband were oh so eager for it to pass and quickly. As she thought of her husband, Stephanie absently picked up the phone again.

No messages from him either.

They had been hoping for some time alone tonight but didn't even make it past dinner.

Stephanie stretched her long limbs and sat up a bit. Outside, the sound of a car approaching drew closer until it stopped. A door shut, followed by three little beeps to signal it had been locked. A tired smile tugged at her lips as she listened to his footsteps. She'd know that sound anywhere.

Paul Levesque opened the door to his home and stepped inside, his expression harrow. He replaced it with a smile upon seeing his wife all cuddled up on the sofa. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied easily. The look on his face as he walked through the door wasn't lost on her but Stephanie ignored it, just happy to see him. She tipped her head back as he walked behind the sofa. Her eyes slipped shut at the feel of his lips and she reached up to grab lightly at the back of his neck. She let her hand drop when he pulled away and pressed her lips together, enjoying the cold sensation from his kiss. "You're cold."

"It's trying to snow. Thankfully it didn't."

"How did it go out there?"

Paul sighed as he sat down, maneuvering her legs so her feet rested in his lap. He said nothing, instead choosing to trail his fingers up and down her calf. He didn't like talking to her about these things but she always insisted.

"Babe?"

"We found a body. Nothing serious."

"Nothing seri…?"

Her sentence was cut short when he yanked on her foot, tugging her into a position where she was practically laying on her back. Stephanie's eyes twinkled, first in annoyance and then with excitement as his hand started traveling higher up her leg.

"What're you doing still up anyway?"

He clearly didn't want to talk about it and she wasn't going to push him. Instead, she reached for him, smiling as he shifted to lean over her. "Maybe I was waiting for you?"

Paul glanced at the near-empty bottle of wine sitting next to the stack of papers on the coffee table. Her glass was there too but it was full. There was no way his wife would have voluntarily not plowed through that glass so the conclusion was obvious.

"You fell asleep, huh?"

"I did."

"Not surprising considering you drank all my wine."

"Oh it's your wine, is it?"

"I bought it."

"Hmmm."

"Getting yourself good and loaded while pretending to grade papers. What would those poor students say if they knew?"

Stephanie smirked. She played with the collar of his shirt and hooked her leg around his waist. "They'd probably think I was some sort of reprobate."

"You are some sort of reprobate."

"Is this the part where you try to arrest me? I already told you I want no part in your law and order fantasies…"

He had been doing a pretty good job keeping a straight face but that one broke him. He chuckled lowly and fastened his hand to her thigh, trailing his fingers along the leg she so kindly had wrapped around him.

Paul swore that if he didn't have this to come home to, his wife, his kids, he probably would be insane. On nights like tonight where they were called to the scene to find a young woman murdered and left there to freeze. She had track marks on both arms and that gaunt face, telltale signs of a user. Paul knew it was drug-related. It hadn't seemed to hit the press yet but their town, their county, was riddled with the stuff. There was obviously a new supplier around. Too many deaths. Too many people being silenced. Not enough answers.

He chose not to dwell on it. He was at home. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

"Where did you end up putting her?"

"Dumped her at that old abandoned place. The hut."

"Beside the river?"

"Yeah."

"Took one of the old cars with no plates. Burnt it out back to confuse the cops."

"How did you get back?"

"Boat. Found it at the hut. Piece of fucking junk but it got me home. I pushed it back out to the river before I came here. It'll turn up somewhere or nowhere. We're covered."

Jon Moxley wiped the back of his hand against his face. The stench of petrol made a smile tug at his lips but it didn't spread. That was good. The last thing he needed was some dead chick being found where all his customers gathered. Jones had done well dumping her that far. He slapped the other man on the back and stood, wiping his stained hands on his shirt. They left greasy black marks against the white wife-beater he wore.

"Is it fixed?"

"What?"

"The car?" Jones indicated with his hand.

"Nah. I work on it for fun. Keeps my hands busy. And my mind."

Jones half-smiled. Moxley was a weird dude. Weird enough not to joke with about his state of mind. They had run together back when they were teens along with a few others. Stealing stuff. Fighting people. Then Jones got sent away. When he got out, it was Moxley who was inside that time around. Jon had been released a few months back and gone was the carelessness in how he did things. There was definitely a much more calculated approach to doing business this time around. An approach that meant Jones was a well-paid man. So long as he kept his mouth shut and followed orders there would always be a nice thick envelope with his name on it.

As if on cue, Moxley produced a brown envelope from his back pocket and thrust it into Jones waiting hand. "I have a job for you. Mid-week. You in?"

Jones nodded, pocketing the envelope securely, enjoying its weight. "Send me the details."

Moxley watched the other man leave, eyes trained on the back of his head until it was out of sight. He stood there silently for a few moments, contemplating. That dumb bitch last night had nearly cost him everything. He hadn't been the one to do it but he didn't care that somebody knifed her. She was making too much noise, upset that her weekly syringe packet had gone up. She had even threatened to go to the cops, claiming she knew the Sheriff and a whole bunch of other bullshit she never got to say.

Jon had been at the other side of the house and walked into the room just in time to see the knife pierce her chest. She fucking bled everywhere too. It was truly surreal, watching somebody die in front of you while a room full of junkies just sat there, staring into space. He had seen worse in prison but it was always chaotic and noisy. The violence was suffocating. This was so underwhelming it was almost like it didn't even happen. He faintly remembered that somebody started laughing. Or maybe it was the sound of blondie choking and gurgling on her last breath. Either way, it all happened quickly after that. Jones told him to get out of there, that he would handle it. And he did. Jon had been back to that shit-hole house this morning and there wasn't a trace of blood anywhere, just the same spaced out crack heads still lying in the same spot as the night before.

No point in dwelling on the matter. He absently shrugged his broad shoulders and walked to the mini fridge, pulling out a beer. The screw cap twisted off easily and was thoughtlessly dropped to the floor. Jon flopped into the worn wingback chair and flipped on the TV. He was a simple man with simple needs and simple surroundings. He lived in a former abandoned garage. It was the only place he could find after his release and nobody had come asking questions. The large vaulted room had space to work on cars and he had built a small liveable area in the back around the kitchenette that was already there. A bed, a few chairs, a fridge and a TV. It's not like he was here very often. There was a washroom at the front of the place near the car jack and a bathroom extension next to it. It was more than enough.

The beer was cool and crisp as he took a long pull from the bottle. A familiar face appeared on the screen. Their very own Sheriff Paul Levesque. He was talking about the discovery of a body late last night. Female. Mid-twenties. Frozen. Brutal murder.

Jon sighed.

Great.

What were the chances she would be found on the outskirts of town? He let his thoughts wander, imagining all the ways somebody could have spotted her? Was Jones followed? Did Jones set him up? He was teetering on the edge until an even more familiar face appeared on the TV, drawing his mind right back into focus.

Jon almost spat out his beer.

A different man had stepped to the podium and was making an appeal for information. He was younger than Levesque. Black hair scraped back in a bun. Tall and bearded. He looked to have packed on considerable muscle since the last time Jon had seen him but then again, that had been when they were teenagers.

"No fucking way," Jon muttered. His hand was gripping the bottle tightly, hardly able to believe it.

"We would re-issue the appeal for information put out by Deputy Sheriff Rollins and the Bloomington Police Department. Back to you in the studio, Tom."

There was no getting past it, not now that the newscaster had confirmed the name.

Seth fucking Rollins.

A cop?

Jon couldn't help himself. He laughed and laughed and laughed.