Chapter 11 of The Terrible Discovery

Disclaimer: I don't own the wrestlers themselves, Vince does; as for my own characters….there is one more character that will be mentioned in this chapter.

Note I: Sorry it took me so long to update. Hope this chapter is satisfactory.

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of violence and strong language.

Enjoy!

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Hunter parked his vehicle outside the premises of the abandoned warehouse, not knowing exactly what to expect.

Had he come to the right place? Or had he made yet another mistake he would regret for the rest of his life? He peered down at his watch and saw it was getting quite late. Then he looked up through his windshield and saw it-the truck that had taken Shawn away from him just hours before, sitting in front of what looked to be the main exit doors. He mentally mapped out the place as he saw it before exiting his car. And just in case if it was necessary, he brought his one and only hand gun along with him; he couldn't be quite sure if he would need it or not….

Suddenly, as he stepped away from where his car was located, he heard one single shot pierce the silence of the night….and he knew he might have already been too late.

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Just about that same time, the killer's boss had pulled the trigger and shot toward the ceiling of the warehouse, simply to give Shawn a little warning of what was to come.

I am about to drill this whore's hands to the arms of the chair, when out of nowhere, my fucking boss orders me to stop! What the hell is his deal? I'm just doing as I am told for crying out loud! Is he lucky I don't have the balls to be rid of him; otherwise I would have already been so by now. He then grabbed his gun and shot one bullet up into the air as a warning to our next victim…what a retard!

"What the hell did you do that for?" I ask him impatiently.

"Justto see how this fucker responds….don't want to be wasting your bullets on nothing, you know." What kind of answer is that? I roll my eyes and set the drill down upon the ground next to me; I'm going to make this wrestling slut pay-one way or the other! The boss then comes up to the chair and forces Shawn to look at him-yea, bet that's a sight for sore eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He asks the sleaze. No answer comes so he slaps that damn Shawn Michaels across the face. Shawn winces but says nothing…what a coward!

"Don't you think we should fucking finish him off right about now?" He looks at me and shakes his head from side to side. What the hell?

"No, I don't think so; because you have NO IDEA how long I have been waiting to torture this SOB." Of course I have no fucking idea…he hasn't told me yet! He just hired me to do the job…that's all. Blood begins to drip from the large laceration on the slut's forehead as my boss continues to rant and taunt him, daring him to do something. What an idiot. "Come on, you're the Heart Break Kid…You're supposed to have the strongest will of them all…and here you are, looking like nothing more than a washed-up piece of queer garbage! You know, people like you, Shawn, make me SICK!" My boss then slaps our little 'victim' even harder…but yet he refuses to get it over with. What if someone happens to follow this faggot's trail and find our asses? What then? I look around for a moment as Shawn remains silent and says nothing…instead, he just closes his eyes and his head slumps forward as if he's falling unconscious. God, what a weak son of a bitch he is! Just then, I feel my temper begin to fuse out of control-so much so that I simply walk up to my boss and grab the .9 millimeter from his grubby hands. That should teach him! "What the fuck are you doing? Give me back my gun you bastard!"

I glare up at him and say the one thing I have wanted to say to his face this ENTIRE time. "No! Here I am waiting for you to finish off the job that you fucking hired me for and here you are, teasing this slut as if this was some game. Well you know what? I'm sick and tired of playing your fucking games! You hired me, so I'm doing what I've been hired to do: finish off this SOB and get the hell out of town! But instead, you're insisting that you should do it! You know, if you knew how the hell to do this damn thing, then why the hell hire me? You know I'm a paid Hit Man; you hire me to finish the damn job! I'm trying to do just that, but no, your chicken-shit ass can't handle what I have in store-so you just try to avoid what I have planned altogether. So hear my words, and hear them well-you want to finish off the job, THEN JUST DO IT; because otherwise, I'm done!" There! He finally shuts up as I tell him how the hell I've been feeling this whole time. Shows him right! I stand back for a second, daring him to say something; when out of nowhere, we hear shattering glass coming from somewhere in the back of the warehouse. Shit!

"See what the hell you just did?" He tells me with an enraged tone of voice. "Now we have company! You know, just give me the gun! Give it to me!" Hesitantly, I throw it back to him and he catches it in mid-air. Leaving the slut there, we go to investigate just who the hell has just found our hide-out. We come to the back of the warehouse to discover a large, protruding figure standing in the shadows. My boss raises the gun and gives the stranger an ultimatum. "Put your hands where we can see them! Now! Get your hands up where we can see them and place them behind your head!" However, we see the shadow come closer…not knowing what to make of this; I go for my holster and pull out my .22 Magnum handgun that I had stashed away just in case something like this was to happen. My boss thinks he's so smart! Look at him, acting like he's on duty! I could almost laugh but I don't. I remain silent as the figure comes even closer. "Don't come any closer or I will shoot! Do you understand me?" Just then, the mystery figure speaks for the first time.

"Yea, I understand….Officer Turow…." I see the person come out from the shadows and when I finally recognize who it is…I almost crap my pants! Triple H!

"Triple H? What the hell?" I question my boss.

"Surprise, surprise…." I hear that smug ball say to us. What a jack ass! "About time this party gets started. I figured you two bastards would be here. Where's Shawn?" He asks us, while holding up a handgun of his own. This faggot's armed? You've got to be kidding me?

"Well, what do you know? Triple H is looking for his lover after all this time-thought you two were in a disagreement. Why the change of heart all of a sudden? Or, is it a change of another part of your body that we should be concerned about?" My boss tells him. My boss, Officer Turow, may not be the swiftest man in the world, but he certainly is the cockiest son of a bitch I have ever known. I watch as Triple H holds the gun at eye level and begins to talk away.

"Maybe that's none of your damn concern, Turow; in fact, if I was you, I'd be more concerned about what the fucking force is going to think of you and your 'partner' over there by the time I'm finished with you!"

"Is that a threat?" I ask him. Turow looks at me and smiles.

Triple H gave both men a sly grin as he spoke. "It is whatever you want it to be." The smile then disappears as he makes his next statement. "Now where's Shawn! I swear if you hurt him, I'm going to be killing the both of you, you understand me?" Does he even know who the hell he's talking to? Then, as if reading my mind, my boss says this:

"Oh, I understand alright," my boss proclaims, "but what I don't think you quite understand is who the hell you think you're talking to."

"Oh, I know who the hell you are," he says, steadying is his gun, "you're the main officer on the Amanda case, and your partner standing right next to you….just happens to be your fucking brother, Brent! You and Brent have been on this thing for quite some time, and up to the point where you were hired by Vince McMahon, you were ok. That was until you had been bumped off the security force by Stephanie…since you had a thing for harassing the divas, isn't that right, Turow? And ever since then, I suppose you've been trying to get revenge; I remember your brother being on the task force when the first murder occurred, in my hotel room might I add, and I remember as I walked away from you how you and your brother seemed to be looking at each other in a strange way. You didn't trust your brother, did you Turow? Deep down inside, you knew he was responsible for the murder of Amanda Wittingfield. You knew that if you went through with it as you were supposed to, that you'd end up arresting your own God damned brother, but that didn't stop things, did it? You didn't want that bad publicity hitting your family record, and somehow you wound up here. Am I getting close, Turow? Or am I still not so sure who the hell I am talking to?" My brother and I stand there in stunned silence. How the hell was he able to figure out so much so damn quick? I feel myself begin to panic as my brother begins to laugh. Now I'm so fucking lost.

"You're a pretty good story teller, Triple H; is that how you got hired as a paid wrestler? Because you don't seem to have any wrestling abilities whatsoever." Oh, that was harsh! "No really now, you pretty much got it…the one thing you forgot to mention, though, is that I have not been in on this thing the whole time. You see, I did in fact know that my brother was responsible for the murder, and you're right-I didn't want that kind of publicity added to the family name; but I didn't get personally involved until my brother had contacted me. That's when it all started for me. I have to admit," he bluntly states while looking my direction, "I don't regret doing my brother the favor of helping him on his quest. You see, your 'boyfriend', as I would like to call that slut, was the one who screwed over my favorite wrestler, Bret Hart! I knew Bret personally, and up until that time, I was a big wrestling fan; but not anymore. When my brother made me an offer I couldn't refuse one day while on the job, I decided to fuck it and go along with it-as long as I could get my redemption, who the hell would give a damn? So we kill a few divas here and there, just to show the WWE who's the boss, and then we both decide to go after the main reason I joined him on his quest to begin with; and I would have had a perfect opportunity sooner had it not been for your sleazy ass getting in the way!" I remain standing behind my brother as I see Triple H staring at us in silence. Now since every fucking thing is out in the open, why not just finish off both fags now? Get it over with and get the hell out of here? See, I'm the brains of this outfit, my brother, also known as my boss, just happens to be the tag along! We stand there as Triple H manages to say one more thing.

"Just one more question, Officer Turow: why would you or your brother frame Shawn and me when yet you had the rest of the roster to choose from? That doesn't make much sense."

"Why not?" Turow asks in return. "Your hotel room was convenient, and Amanda seemed to be in need to know someone who could show her your hotel room anyway…." Oh that does it! My brother is now going way too far with trying to cover my ass up by lying to this unholy bastard. Hell, why not give him the real reason and let his mind rest before we put some bullets through his head? Makes sense, doesn't it? That's when I decide to interrupt.

"No! That is not the fucking reason Bro, and told you that! No, Hunter, the real reason I chose your hotel room over any other is because I fucking HATE you! There, I said it! I hate your god damn guts and I wanted your name to be ruined for as long as you were alive and breathing!" My hands begin to shake and become sweaty as I stand there, still holding my gun. I can feel my heart racing as I continue to tell this slime ball the absolute truth! "I hate you! No one hates you more than me! You are nothing but a no-good lying piece of shit! You hear me?" I scream out loud with beads of sweat now pouring down the side of my face. "And now, you are going to pay the price for being such a bastard!" Just then, I feel my finger graze the surface of the trigger. I get ready to pull on it, when suddenly we all hear a forceful voice calling to us loud and crystal clear.

"Drop the damn gun!"

To Be Continued….

A/N: Well, I hope you've enjoyed this story so far; please send along your comments, thanks.