"Roman? What did you do?" Mox demanded. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"
Roman looked at Jericho and Samoa Joe. "We'll continue this later. Please close the door on your way out."
Jericho nodded, but Samoa Joe silently stared at first Moxley then Roman before following Jericho out of the office. He firmly closed the door behind him.
"Roman?"
Roman waved Mox towards one of the chairs but wasn't surprised when Mox remained standing. "Are you going to try and tell me that you wouldn't have done the same if our positions were reversed?"
"That's not the point!" Mox snapped, his fists clenching.
"It's exactly the point!" Roman snapped back. "Isn't that what brothers do? Isn't that what we do?" He pointed first to himself and then to Mox.
Mox rubbed his hands over his face.
"I didn't break Lesnar out of jail, if that's what you're worrying about," Roman grumbled.
"What I'm worried about is the cops coming after you!" Mox snarled. "Get that through your thick Samoan skull!"
"Why would they come after me?" Roman shot back. "You know damned well you're not the only person Lesnar went after in prison! Hell, he killed two men while in that place! And got away with it!"
"I'm the only one with a tie to you!" Mox yelled. "Someone with the ability and contacts to pull something like this off."
Roman forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. Standing toe-to-toe with Mox only resulted in a violent escalation. "Will you please sit down and listen to me?" he asked in a quieter tone of voice.
Almost petulantly, Mox threw himself into one of the chairs and glared at Roman.
Roman slowly sat down, breathing deeply. "Lesnar was scheduled to testify over in Moline against a member of the Authority. The trial had been delayed for one reason or another for over five years. Mostly because the D.A. didn't feel the case was strong enough. Finally, someone came forward and said Lesnar knew about it. The Moline D.A. made a deal with Lesnar for his testimony. The Authority has someone in the D.A.'s office so the Authority knew about it within a few hours and made an even better deal with Lesnar for him to skewer his testimony in favor of the defendant. Lesnar would be brought to Moline a couple of days before he was scheduled to testify and kept in a safe house. In reality, he'd be able to party for a couple of days." Roman shrugged. "He never made it to the safe house."
"And the two guards?"
Roman raised an eyebrow. "Wilder and Dawson? You're concerned about them?"
"Hell, no, they were hand-in-glove with Lesnar," Mox grunted. "Looked the other way when necessary, provided him with an alibi…" He stared at Roman. "That's all going to come out, too, isn't it?"
Roman leaned back in his chair, starting to relax. "Why shouldn't it? They're just as guilty as Lesnar. And the prison authorities couldn't have written off everything Lesnar did as coincidental, so their hands aren't clean of any of this. There's going to be a Federal investigation into what's been going on in that hell hole."
Mox leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "Jesus Christ, Roman," he mumbled.
After a few seconds, Roman stood and walked to where Mox sat. He knelt in front of his brother and gently touched his knee. "The Moline cops will find forensic evidence tying local members of the Authority to what happened to Lesnar, Wilder, and Dawson," he gently spoke. "Logic says the Authority took out Lesnar to prevent him from testifying. And they probably had a reason to…take their time in doing so. There's no reason for the cops to specifically look at me for a single second." He half-grinned. "It's not like the Authority can alibi themselves by saying they had no reason to eliminate Lesnar because they'd suborned his testimony."
"Except that I've got a connection to Lesnar. A bad one." Mox raised his head and stared into Roman's grey eyes. "And they want to use me to get to you. Take down the Bloodline. Hell, Barrett will probably use my connection with Lesnar in his next broadcast."
Roman smirked. "Like I said, the cops have been trying to do that before either of us were ever born. As for Barrett, if he steps over the line, Regal will take care of him." He stared back at Mox. "And if you can look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing if I'd been in that prison…fighting every day for survival against Lesnar…recovering from broken bones…that you wouldn't have gone after Lesnar, then I'll apologize to you and admit I was horribly horribly wrong."
For a few moments, Mox was back in prison…treated like the caged animal he'd become…unable to draw a single deep breath. He blinked several times, then found Roman's eyes. "I'd've done the same damn thing." He leaned forward the rested his forehead on his brother's shoulder. "Thank you, Roman," he whispered.
Roman wrapped his arms around his brother and tightly squeezed. "You're welcome."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Bray Wyatt slowly opened his eyes. He saw a dusty concrete floor and a second later felt it under his cheek. He blinked a few times then slowly began pushing himself into a sitting position. Without moving his head, he used his eyes to scan the immediate area.
He found himself sitting in a pool of light courtesy of an overhead light. As he slowly got to his feet, he realized there was something around his neck. His fingers barely touched it before he received an electrical shock that dropped him to his knees. Doggedly, he shook his head and sought deep breaths. Then he slowly got back to his feet. He peered around but saw only darkness beyond the circle of light that surrounded him.
"Good evening. Allow me to explain."
Wyatt's blue eyes narrowed. The voice was mechanical…artificial. Someone didn't want his voice recognized.
"The collar around your neck is a modified dog collar capable of administering electric shocks. The shock you just received was a two second burst at minimum power. I can increase both the duration and power to an extremely uncomfortable level."
Wyatt slowly turned in the direction of the mechanical voice.
"As your eyesight adjusts, you might see some small pillars. They are creating a barrier to contain you, just like a dog wearing a similar collar is contained within a yard. If you try to pass through that barrier, you'll be shocked. If you knock over one of those barriers in an attempt to escape, remember I hold the controller. And the resulting shock would be extremely painful."
Wyatt slowly smiled. "You must forgive me. We haven't been formally introduced. My name is Bray Wyatt."
"I know who you are."
Wyatt saw someone behind one of the pillars that he assumed was the person speaking to him. But he was aware of soft footsteps behind him and to his left. "Surely all this was unnecessary in order to have a civil conversation," he commented.
"I disagree."
Wyatt comfortably shrugged. "What did you wish to discuss?"
"First, Io Shairi."
"Ah, dear Sister Io," Wyatt sighed. "A lovely woman who was so tragic and full of disappointments. Her family should have been her comfort and support yet abandoned her." He heard a quick footstep behind him and a soft murmur from his left that stopped the person who'd stepped closer to the circle of light. 'Ah, Sister Io's so-called family is here.'
"Can you explain that?"
Wyatt chuckled. This speaker was good. Assuming a neutral voice, not judging or condemning. Encouraging Wyatt to talk. "Her family is all about appearances. Be a certain type of person even if that's not who you are. Did you know Sister Io never wanted to be a pharmacist? She wanted to be a singer." He ruefully shook his head. "Although her type of music didn't appeal to me, she had a lovely voice. She sang many times for me." He cocked his head to one side. "I wonder if her family ever heard her sing the songs she wanted to sing? I wonder if they ever heard the tortured cries from her soul?"
"Two police officers were murdered by Io Shairi. Why would she do that?"
Wyatt shrugged. "Sister Io would have to answer that. I, in no way, speak for her. Her family did that far too often."
"Did you ask her to do that?"
Wyatt chuckled. "Sister Io knew what those men were. Liars! Deceivers! Part of a system that thrives upon lies and deceit! How could they be properly judged by a system as corrupt as they?"
"And then she died."
Wyatt sighed and lowered his eyes. "Sister Io had such a gentle soul. The deaths of these two reprehensible creatures weighed heavily upon her." He peered over his shoulder searching for whoever stood there in the darkness. "She had purchased a gun a few years ago. Not for personal defense, although that was the reason she gave everyone. But because she thought a great deal about ending her own life. She found out she could not have children. Children of her own to love and cherish. And it grieved her so. Why should I stop her and force her to continue to live in agony?"
"You were there when she committed suicide?"
Wyatt shrugged. "You may call it whatever you wish. Sister Io had no reason to live any longer. She had no worth to her family unless she continued being what they wanted her to be. And she could not be that person any longer. We talked. I smoothed the path for her."
"And you…convinced her that suicide was her only choice."
Wyatt smiled. "You may interpret it that way if you wish. But are you correct?"
There was silence for a few moments.
"What about Renee Young?"
Wyatt threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, Renee Young. Another liar and deceiver." He began pacing back and forth. "She assumed the role of journalist, seeking truth! To bring truth to the people!" He humorously shook his head. "As though the people want the truth." He wagged his finger. "No, no, no…anyone who brings truth becomes the enemy."
"The truth she was going to bring made her your enemy?"
Wyatt chuckled. "There was a time when journalism had men of stature…of character…of honor. Edward R. Murrow. Walter Cronkite. But now? No, this journalistic truth must be delivered by people who are young. And beautiful. And plastic." He paused in consideration. "Now, I did not know the late Ms. Young well enough to know how much of her body was plastic. But she lived and thrived in a plastic world where truths become lies and lies become truths."
He turned in the general direction of the questioning voice. "Do you have a family?"
"Yes, I do."
Wyatt nodded. "Then you know how important family is. This Renee Young, in her deceit in wanting to find out 'truths', upset and scared some members of my family. She lied to them! Deceived them!" He held out his arms to either side of his body and looked upward. "She wrote the truth of her own demise!" He slowly lowered his arms. "For you see, my family means everything to me."
"So you killed Renee Young."
"As I said. She wrote the truth of her own demise." Bray chuckled to himself. "As do we all."
"I believe we're done."
Seconds later the overhead light went out.
Wyatt fell to his knees and extended his arms out to either side of his body. He heard footsteps approaching and closed his eyes.
"Take me home, Abigail," he murmured. "Sister, take me home."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"911. What's your emergency?"
"Look, you gotta send someone over that abandoned warehouse. Corner of River Road and LeClaire Highway. Somebody's in there and screamin'. Like…awful screamin'."
"Okay, units are being dispatched. Are you there now?"
"NO! I got outta there. I just wanted some place to sleep, you know? But I wasn't hangin' around. I don't want no part of this."
"Sir, can you…Sir? Sir?"
The 911 dispatcher turned to her supervisor standing at her shoulder. "He hung up." When her supervisor nodded, she radioed the responding units. "All units en route to the corner of River Road and LeClaire Highway. Be advised caller either hung up the phone or was forced to hang up. Caller reported he was not at the site. Be on the lookout for anyone leaving the vicinity. Caution advised."
Five minutes later, one of the responding officers radioed back, "Dispatch, we have a 140 on site. Notify homicide, CSI and the Coroner. Warn them that it's a bad one."