The Road to Hell

Seth Rollins had been busy.

It started as something in the back of his mind - a nagging little sense of futility. No matter what he did, no matter how he tried to account for it, all his plans felt like they were only short-term. It was all down to the Authority.

Sure, Evolution was just as mortal as anybody else, when they were in the ring. But the Authority had power, and power like that was untouchable. It didn't matter how many times the Shield defeated Evolution, or how resounding the open hatred of the Authority became. Because, at the end of the day, the WWE was a business. Heroism and ideals and symbols may matter to the fans, but that meant nothing to Corporate.

Wasn't that the whole point of the Shield – to stand up against that kind of thing? To tear down walls together, because there's no way one guy could do that alone. That was the theory. It'd worked, to a point. But now things had gotten complicated. The Hounds of Justice – the unstoppable force – had run up against an immovable object.

If there was one thing Seth hated, it was feeling limited like this. The game was rigged, and anybody who stood up to the Authority was destined to fail. Unless somebody changed the rules, that is.

Carly called it the Kobayashi Maru – the quintessential no-win scenario. That was an interesting way of thinking of it, actually – as a test. As a challenge. And never let it be said that Seth Rollins backed away from a challenge.

Seth had a plan. At this stage in the game, the Shield was effectively useless. Dean could peddle his brand of idealism all he wanted, but there was more to it than that. Sometimes, one guy could do what an army couldn't, and Seth knew that he was in the perfect position for this particular conquest. Maybe that sounded egotistical. Seth didn't really care. After all, it wasn't arrogance if you were right.

But he nearly blew it in the hours following the Extreme Rules pay-per-view. The victory-high was fading as he sat outside the hotel with Carly. She'd been acting sorta distant that night, and she wasn't nearly as happy about their win as Seth thought she'd be, so he'd wanted to check on her. Turned out she was worrying about the same things he was.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd been a little drunk at the time. Or maybe it was that he just liked being able to talk to somebody that could be on the same strategic wavelength as he was. Either way, Seth found himself admitting that he had the same concerns, and that he was thinking of a plan.

It was a potentially damning slip-up on his part. If Carly told anybody, it would've been all over for him. But she bought his line about not wanting to worry Dean and Roman, and she promised not to say anything. Seth knew he could trust her. Just, y'know, not enough to let her in on the plan.

If he was gonna do this, he had to move quickly.

Seth woke up as early as usual that next morning. He didn't want to admit how little sleep he'd gotten, what with his thoughts preoccupied with his next move and all. He got up carefully, moving quietly, even though he knew an artillery barrage wouldn't wake the others. Roman was still lying in the exact same position he'd fallen asleep in. Dean, as usual, had ended up in a tangled nest of sheets.

Seth slipped out of the room and went to the floor above, where he knew no one from the WWE was staying, and he made a phone call.

He was grateful that he'd long since learned how to keep his emotions in check. His voice hadn't wavered once – calm and even, very professional. The voice on the other end was surprised, intrigued, and rightfully suspicious. But arrangements were made to both parties' satisfaction.

And Seth's hands did not tremble from the adrenaline rush, although he did seem to have a hard time keeping them still. And it was easy enough to smile when he met Carly in the hotel lobby for breakfast. It was like nothing had changed. Nothing at all.

Seth was a good liar. That wasn't exactly something to be proud of, he knew, but it was true. Nobody questioned it for a second when he claimed that he left his phone in Roman's car.

And it was the simplest thing in the world to find his way around the arena unseen. He'd been in a hundred of them, hadn't he? The layouts were all alike. His instincts led him right to the conference room they'd arranged to meet in.

Seth stopped at the door, not quite knowing why. Something fluttered warily in the pit of his stomach. Just nerves. Or maybe conscience? Whatever. Seth smothered the feeling and proceeded to ignore it. No need to get all worked up about this. He knew what he was doing. He had a plan, and it was going to work. Seth rapped his knuckles against the door and then, without waiting for a reply, opened it to step inside.

Interesting. Seth had set up a meeting between himself and Triple H, no mention of anyone else. But he couldn't say he was exactly surprised to see Batista and Randy Orton there as well. Batista, as sulky as ever he'd looked since his return to the WWE, was sitting in one of the chairs that surrounded the long table. Orton stood beside Triple H, who was leaning back against the table. The numbers game, huh? Seth knew it well.

The eyes of all three men locked on Seth as he shut the door behind him. But Batista barely raised his head, and Orton only looked over his shoulder, not bothering to turn to face him. They were playing it far too casually. Seth wasn't fooled for a second. They were on edge, distrustful. Seth had to move fast to show he was confident, speak before the silence grew uneasy.

Seth stepped forward to stand before Triple H.

"Sir," he said, nodding politely.

"I must say," Triple H smiled thinly, "I'm a bit surprised that you wanted to come here alone, Seth. I thought the Shield did everything together."

"The Shield does," said Seth, "But I'm not here about the Shield. I'm here about Seth Rollins."

"Interesting," said Triple H, "Well, go on."

"Don't get me wrong," said Seth, "The Shield has had a good run. The most dominant faction the WWE has seen in recent years, everyone knows that. But at the end of the day, every man here wants to get to the top, to prove himself, to be the best. And you don't get to the top as a team. Do you follow me?"

"Hunter, I don't know about this," Orton interjected.

"No, no. Let's hear him out," Triple H silenced him with a wave of his hand, "I think I'm beginning to understand."

"I knew you would," said Seth, a fervent eagerness entering his tone, "You're the most powerful man in this company. You're a thirteen-time world champion, yourself. If a young guy has talent and any brains at all, he'd know that there's no better way to make something of himself than to learn from the best – from the Game, the King of Kings, the Cerebral Assassin: Triple H."

Seth could see Triple H's eyes glinting with pride as he invoked the man's list of epithets. Triple H was no fool. He was well aware that Seth had a reason, an angle he was working with all this compliments. Still, he was only human, and Seth knew that he had everything to gain by flattering his ego.

"Alright, I'm listening," said Triple H, "So let's cut to the chase. What is it you want?"

"I want what every man in this business wants," said Seth, "I want to be the WWE World Heavyweight Champion."

At the mention, Batista shot up out of his seat and Orton started towards Seth threateningly. Even Triple H looked a little alarmed. He'd had to keep both of his cohorts on a fairly short leash, distracting them by re-forming Evolution to deal with the Shield in order to divert their attention from the currently vacant title. Seth held up his hands.

"Now, hold on," he said, "Don't misunderstand me here, alright? I know that both of you have the first claims on a title match, and I have no intention of getting in the way of that."

"You're damn right, we do," Batista growled, "And there's no room for some hotshot, upstart kid like you weaseling in, you little punk-"

"Calm down, Dave," said Triple H, intercepting him, "Just calm down. You know I haven't forgotten what I promised you."

Batista allowed Triple H to hold him back, but continued to glare murderously at Seth. Well, this situation was deteriorating rapidly. But Seth still had Triple H's interest. As long as he could keep them listening long enough to play his trump card, his plan was still set.

"Hunter, you're not actually considering-?" Orton protested.

"All I'm doing is letting him have his say," Triple H said soothingly, "That's all. If he makes a good case, we'll see. If he doesn't, then you both are welcome to teach him a lesson about wasting my time."

Triple H smiled pointedly at Seth as Orton and Batista backed off. Seth cleared his throat. Not getting the crap kicked out of him was as good a motivation as any to be convincing.

"I'm not asking for a title match," said Seth, "I'm not looking to take anyone's opportunity. Let me put it like this. Daniel Bryan's win at Wrestlemania was a fluke. Luckily, it was a fluke that corrected itself when he went and got himself injured. Now, I know that, whatever happens, that title is going to end up on a member of the Authority. But whoever that guy is is gonna have to defend that title, and there's always a chance that another fluke will happen. Sir, what you need is a contingency plan. If all else fails, you're gonna need someone who's in a position to reclaim that title on behalf of the Authority. I can be that someone. If I become the next Mr. Money in the Bank, you won't have to worry about the WWE World Heavyweight Championship title falling to the likes of Daniel Bryan or anyone like him."

Though Seth never looked away from Triple H, he watched the other two men out of the corners of his eyes. Batista wasn't having any of this, but Orton seemed to be growing less suspicious. And as for Triple H, his expression was as impassive as ever. But Seth knew he'd seen a glint in his eyes. The logic of Seth's proposal wasn't lost on him. Seth also knew that Triple H wasn't about to agree to it just like that.

"Impressive," said Triple H, "Clearly, you've given this a lot of thought. But you still seem to be getting more out of this deal than I am."

And here it was. Time to seal the deal.

"Naturally, I intend to offer you something in return," said Seth.

"Do you, now?" said Triple H.

He folded his arms, unimpressed and unconvinced.

"I do," said Seth, "Because there's something only I can give you. I can do what all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't."

"And what's that?" asked Orton.

Seth's gaze flicked over to him for a second before returning to Triple H. Letting a low chuckle rumble in his chest, Seth smirked.

"I can destroy the Shield," he said.

That got their attention. Seth waited as Evolution exchanged curious glances. For Seth Rollins to want to advance himself by any means necessary was something these self-serving men could understand. But the idea that he would be willing to go that far caught them off-guard. A member of the Shield willing to carry out such a brutal, cold-blooded act as betraying his own brothers? There was no mistaking the approval in Triple H's eyes this time.

"I have every right to," Seth continued, "After all, I'm the one who created the Shield."

"Are you?" said Triple H, "I was under the impression that Dean Ambrose was the one running the show."

"Ambrose?" Seth laughed incredulously, "I can't deny that the man has a certain charisma. People like him, for some reason. They listen when he talks. But Dean Ambrose in charge of the Shield? Don't be ridiculous. He's barely functional. He can hardly manage to look after himself, let alone lead a team. I am responsible for everything the Shield accomplished. Ambrose is a mouthpiece, nothing more."

"Alright," said Triple H, "Let's say I believe your claim. It's not that hard to buy. I've had my eye on you since FCW, and I know you're an intelligent young man. What gets me is that you don't just want to leave the Shield. No, you offered to destroy it. I thought you three had some 'brothers-in-arms' shtick going on."

"Oh, please," Seth scoffed, "As if I'd buy into anything that sentimental. The important thing is that Reigns and Ambrose believe it, and that's been very useful for me. It's what makes the Shield such an effective unit. I mean, even Evolution wasn't able to take us down."

Judging by their expressions, Evolution's loss the night before was still a sore point for them. Seth knew that they weren't going to like him bringing it up, but it couldn't be avoided. It was an important selling point.

"Is that so?" said Triple H, his voice low and threatening, "You think that we're - that I'm incapable of putting the hounds of justice down, is that it?"

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think it. I know it," said Seth, "The Shield defeated Evolution last night in the sight of the entire WWE Universe."

"You got lucky," said Triple H, "I assure you it won't happen again."

Seth shook his head.

"Since we're both so confident," he said, "Why don't we settle the matter? A rematch, next month at Payback. If the Shield wins again, you accept my offer: I destroy my own creation, and you get me that Money in the Bank contract."

"If that's the way you want it," Triple H shrugged, "Assuming I don't dismantle your little team before you make it to the pay-per-view."

"It'll never happen," said Seth, "Not as long as the Shield has me as the brains of the operation."

Triple H looked at the other two for input. Orton shrugged, and Batista just scowled.

"Do we have a deal?" asked Seth.

He held out his hand. Triple H smiled, and reached out to shake it.

"Alright, Seth," he said, "You've got your deal."

"Thank you, sir," Seth nodded.

He turned to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when Triple H spoke again.

"You know, I could just tell Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns that you're willing to sell out," said Triple H, "What then?"

Seth turned back to look at him, smiling.

"My brothers would never believe that," he said, "Thank you for your time, sir."

And Seth walked out of the room, and he made his way back to the Shield, and he was fine. Everything was fine. It was like nothing had ever happened.

A little thrill of panic ran through Seth when he heard Triple H repeat his line about the Shield having been lucky the night before, but that was all. What was he getting jumpy about, anyway? He knew what he was doing.

As punishment for daring to defeat Evolution, the Shield was getting fed to the Wyatts. Business as usual, then. Still… it wasn't Triple H's style to pawn them off to a lesser adversary just to make it clear that they weren't worth Evolution's time. There was something worse in store for the Shield. Seth was sure of it. And he was gonna make damn sure they didn't get caught unawares.

"This is far enough," Seth said when Dean led them into a little-used maintenance hallway.

Nobody could've followed that meandering route. They'd be safe there, at least for the moment. Seth exhaled slowly, willing himself to relax a little.

"Alright, Seth. What's with the disappearing act?"

That stupid, irrational panic jolted through Seth again at Dean's question. He hadn't been gone long enough to raise suspicion, had he?

"I… what?" he stammered stupidly.

Dean's brows furrowed slightly.

"That crazy game of follow-the-leader we just played," he said, "What was that all about?"

Oh, thank God. That was all Dean was wondering about. For a minute there, Seth thought he was gonna have to make up a story about making a detour down to catering or something.

"We're just gonna lay low until the match, that's all," said Seth.

He was doing fine. He was keeping up the pretence that his little conference with Triple H had not occurred. All he had to do was play it cool, and-

"You mean we're hiding?" said Dean, his eyes widening in disbelief, "Seth, we don't back down from anybody. What's the matter with you? We just beat them yesterday, and you're running scared from-"

"I know!" Seth snapped.

Okay, this was the last thing he needed right now. Dean Ambrose and his honor, justice, and valor, never-say-die, give 'em blood and vinegar, stupid, senseless, heroic crap. Where did this guy get this heroic champion mentality, anyway?

"Look," he struggled to control his voice, "You gotta understand, Dean. Triple H has the upper hand tonight. I don't know if he's just handing us over to the Wyatts so they'll do his dirty work, or if Evolution's gonna come after us themselves, or what. But I do know that they can't take us out before the match if they can't find us. We aren't running away from anybody. We're choosing our battles. You brought me on to be the practical, strategic one, right? That's what I'm doing."

"Whoa, calm down," said Dean.

Seth had calmed down by that point, at least enough not to flinch away when Dean grabbed hold of his shoulder. For some reason, he suddenly remembered how, in the Harry Potter books, Voldemort couldn't make physical contact with somebody who was protected by love. Weird. Not to mention ridiculous. Seth quickly shook that thought off.

"I'm not trying to start something with you," Dean went on, "You know me, Seth. I'm a 'damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead' kind of guy. But if you think this is the best course of action, then I trust you, buddy. Alright?"

"Alright," Seth said, abashed, "Sorry, Dean."

"No worries, huh?"

And Dean's response to the situation was a side-hug and a declaration of trust. Great. More things Seth didn't need.

"You could've at least picked a hide-out with a better view," Dean said, giving their surroundings a cursory once-over.

Seth knew what Dean was doing. He was throwing him a bone, giving him a chance to save face after that emotional outburst. Thoughtful of him, all things considered, and Seth had to be grateful for it. As he and Dean lapsed into their usual back-and-forth snarking, Seth saw Roman relax. Hopefully this'd be enough to keep him from getting suspicious. Roman was always quicker to pick up on these things than Dean was.

It was easy enough to sit there in that far-removed hiding place and forget about what was waiting for them. It was easy enough to play games and laugh with Dean and Roman and Carly. It was easy enough for Seth to let himself believe, like the rest of them did, at least for a little while.

To them, it was just second verse – same as the first. They'd fought Evolution for a month and a pay-per-view, and they were just going to have to do it again. Piece of cake. But underneath it all, Seth knew that this time wasn't going to be nearly as much fun as the last.

The respite passed too quickly, and it was time to get ready. Seth was stretching out as Dean did push-ups and Carly cleared away the evidence of their presence, when Roman approached him.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Roman asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" said Seth, furrowing his brows quizzically. He didn't think he'd neglected anything important.

"The princess," Roman nodded in her direction, "What's she gonna be doing while we're out there facing who-knows-what?"

"Oh, that. Right," said Seth.

It was surprisingly easy to convince Carly to lay low for the evening. Seth had expected her to be at least as annoyed as Dean was, but she was actually pretty reasonable. Well, maybe it wasn't that surprising after all. She was like-minded enough to be aware of the gravity of their situation. That could be a problem for him, though. He'd have to make sure she especially didn't find out just how precarious the state of affairs was.

With that taken care of, all that was left to do was wait for the axe to fall. And man, did it ever. Seth found himself receiving the brunt of the Wyatt's offense, and it was safe to assume that wasn't a coincidence. (Dean – surprise, surprise – was quick to bail him out when things started getting dicey, and it kept him alive.) Seth knew - as soon as Roman started to bring the match to a close - that it was too good to last.

Seth's prospective business partners were quick to make their presence felt like a head-on collision with a freight train. The Shield was tired, and already beaten down, and Seth knew they didn't stand a chance. But that didn't stop them from trying like hell.

Even then, Seth couldn't help but love how in sync he and Dean were in the ring. A quick glance was all it took for them to execute a perfect, tandem suicide dive and eliminate the dumb muscle from the equation. Unfortunately, Bray Wyatt was just waiting to sneak in for the win. And that's when it all went south.

As per Evolution's M.O., the brawl was brutal and decisive. Seth, still stunned from a top-rope DDT, was only able to watch in despair they put the screws to Roman in spectacularly humiliating fashion. And Seth knew that that display of mockery was especially for his benefit. Bastards.

Seth took a breath and willed his mind to disregard any emotional reactions. No sense in getting conflicted now. Just assess the situation at hand. Right. In addition to a massive headache, his arm had been reinjured. Other than that, he'd be alright. Dean had taken it hard on the ribs, but he didn't seem to be having trouble breathing, so that was good. Roman - bleeding from the mouth again - was a wreck.

It was only when they got back to the trainers' room that Roman was conscious enough to realize what had happened, and calling his reaction "righteous indignation" would be severely understating it. He was furious at the humiliation of having his own – their own – finishing move used against him, outraged that Evolution had dared to hurt his brothers, and bordering on panic at the fact that Carly was nowhere to be found. It was all Seth and Dean could do to calm him down enough to give the medics a chance to look him over.

"See, boys?" Dean said, nodding towards the door, "Here she is now."

Carly, looking worried as all hell, hurried into the trainers' room and made a beeline for Roman, pressing a quick kiss on his forehead before dodging out of the medics' way. Thankfully, her sudden appearance was enough to finally quiet him. Seth knew Roman couldn't stand not knowing if their little family was safe and relatively undamaged. And Carly appeared to be that. At least somebody was.

"Carly, you are a sight for sore eyes," Seth said wryly, "And sore everything else."

"You poor guys have been through hell," she said.

Carly was all care and concern as she leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Seth had to brush aside that stupid Voldemort-feeling again. What with Dean's faith in him and Roman's ardent protectiveness, the last thing he needed was Carly being nice. But still, Seth would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the sympathetic words and the reassuring kiss.

"We're getting pretty familiar with the territory," Dean grumbled.

He winced as the medic tightened the bandages on his ribs. Carly twisted her fingers together worriedly, watching him sit down and try to breathe easily. Dean caught her eye and winked.

"Don't you worry about me, darlin'," he said, "I'll be fireproof one of these days."

Seth rolled his eyes. Of course, Dean Ambrose would flirt at a time like this. Carly went to him, giving him a kiss on the forehead as well and putting her arms around his shoulders. Dean leaned slightly against her.

"Well," he faltered, pretty much failing to disguise the hopeful note in his voice, "I guess I wouldn't object to you worrying a little."

"Good," said Carly, "Because I was going to anyway."

And it went right over her head. Seth stood and gingerly extended his injured arm.

"You saw?" he asked.

Carly looked back at him, nodding regretfully.

"I saw," she said, "All of it."

"Well, it's not like we weren't expecting this," said Seth.

"I hope they know this means war," Dean remarked.

Why did he have to sound so all-fired eager about that?

"They know," said Roman, "And this time we're gonna make sure to put them out of business permanently."

There was that grim determination again. Good. That was good. That meant everything was normal with Dean and Roman, much to Seth's relief.

"We'll worry about that later," said Seth, "Carly, looks like you managed to stay safe?"

"More or less," Carly hesitated.

Seth frowned. That wasn't the answer any of them were hoping for.

"Everything was fine in the end," she explained dismissively, "I made sure my troubles had troubles with me. Come on, let's get you guys home so you can rest. We'll talk strategy in the morning."

"That's my line," Seth muttered.

His disgruntled tone made Carly laugh, and he shot her a grin. If anybody was gonna steal his lines, he didn't really mind her doing it. She was his apprentice, after all.

It was just a matter of time. All Seth had to do was keep up the act for, what? A month? He could do that. If anything, it was a good thing that he had a whole month before putting phase two into action.

Because, really, if Seth was being honest with himself, he'd gotten lazy. He'd gotten far too used to functioning as one third of a whole. He just needed a little time to disengage from all that. He needed to remember how to be on his own, and he'd be just fine.

(Note: Well, it's only been, what? Five million years since I posted a chapter? XP Thank you all for being patient about this. I've been awful busy lately, and this perspective shift section is turning out to be quite a bit longer than I'd anticipated. Hence the fact that I've started breaking it into bite-sized chunks instead of one mammoth chapter. I'll try to leave updates on my profile every now and then, so you know I haven't dropped off the face of the earth or something, haha. Thanks again for your patience, and thanks to the lovely people who left reviews!)