Arc Fatigue

For all the alleged confidence Hunter had in Seth, his usually calm air of authority was pretty ruffled by the time Friday rolled around. Carly'd outdone herself, Seth had to admit. Banning everybody from ringside, herself included, and making a stipulation of Dean winning by default if there were any shenanigans? It looked like she was milking Hunter's wariness for all it was worth. Well, Seth would have been disappointed in anything less.

But Hunter wasn't leaving anything to chance. He kept all of Carly's friends hopping throughout the night, and left the goons with orders to take advantage of any opportunity at Carly and Roman. Not that they got any opportunities, of course. The Shield's little rag-tag group of friends were doing their damnedest to keep them safe, even while the Authority kept them busy all evening.

Seth knew there was gonna be a twist coming the second he saw Carly'd gone down to ringside. Sure, she could've just been out there to be moral support for Dean or something, and then went backstage before the match started, but that wasn't likely. Carly always had something up her sleeve, and it was always, well… unorthodox. To say the least. And, good God, she did not disappoint.

Come on, a straightjacket match? That wasn't even a relic from the Attitude Era or anything. That was straight-up unheard of. The very idea was melodramatic as hell, which is probably why Carly came up with it. She always did like theatrics. Still…

Seth wasn't really all that fussed about beating Dean in a match. He'd never been worried about that, not even when he was with the Shield. That's how the job worked, right? And friends ended up facing each other all the time in battle royals and ladder matches and stuff like that. But this was a whole nother animal.

Seth knew. He knew how Dean felt about being called labeled a lunatic, about the way JBL would call him crazy for so much as breathing. Dean had every right to hate it. Hell, the guy might be a little out there, but he deserved more credit than that. And the thought of having to beat the hell out of him and force him into a straightjacket was unthinkable. It was unconscionable. And he couldn't refuse.

Seth Rollins the sellout, Seth Rollins the traitor, Seth Rollins the sadistic son of a bitch would jump at the chance to degrade and humiliate his one-time business partner. His eyes never left Dean's face as he gave his answer in the most provoking, cruel terms possible. It'd been a long time since he'd seen Dean this incensed. Seth knew what that meant, too. It was do or die now. Kill or be killed. And no matter which way it ended, Seth would lose.

He only spared a glance for Carly as she strode past him up the ramp, which as more than she did for him. Making a point of him not meriting her attention, naturally. There was something tense about the way she carried herself, though, with her shoulders just a little too stiff. Either she was as worried about Dean as she should be, or this match was the hailest of Mary's.

He didn't really listen as he and Dean were announced. Dean paced back and forth on the other side of the ring, but strangely, Seth wasn't paying much attention to that. He was feeling… off. It felt like he was noticing for the first time how unnatural it felt to have his hair cut short, to not be wearing gloves, to be out here in the most ordinary-looking gear imaginable. Huh. Maybe his mind was just trying to find literally anything else to think about than the task at hand.

And then the bell rang, and neither of them moved. Seth had braced slightly, ready for Dean's attack, but it never came. Dean just stood there, smiling. If you could really call that a smile, that is. It was grim, and terrible, and gave the impression that Dean was baring his teeth. But he seemed… relaxed, somehow. Seth had a hard time keeping his gaze from darting to the straightjacket hung over the ringpost, but Dean was having no such trouble. So, he was every bit as confident as Seth was.

They'd talked to each other since that night after Payback. Or at least they'd talked at each other. And they'd fought, and brawled, and ambushed each other, but… they hadn't faced each other. Not like in a match. Like this. Standing here, staring each other dead in the eyes. Again, Seth felt the full weight of how simultaneously familiar and alien this scenario was. Despite the noise of the crowd, the lights, the cameras – to Seth it felt like he and Dean were completely alone out there.

Dean spread his arms wide.

"It's just you and me, Sethie-boy," he called across the ring, "Just you and me. You got nowhere to run, no place to hide. You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch! And I'm gonna finish what you started."

It wasn't like fighting Roman. Not by a long shot. And it wasn't really like it'd been fighting Dean back in FCW, either. It isn't that going up against Dean was any less brutal. This was just different. This was chess.

Not many people knew about this side of Dean. They all thought he was just erratic and impulsive, and Seth used to think so, too. But he wasn't... okay, he could be that sometimes. But there was so much more to it - and to him - than that. It was very zui quan. Drunken fist style professional wrestling, you could say. Seth knew all Dean's tricks, but Dean knew all his tricks, too. It was like a game. Under any other circumstances, Seth would be having the time of his life.

In fact, he became so focused on the fight itself that it was a good ways into the match before he remembered he should be staying in character. Dammit. Say something, stupid! Be an asshole.

"Come on, you maniac!" he shouted, "Get up! This is what you wanted."

Dean, being Dean, tried. Seth knocked him back to the ground, dashed towards the ropes, aiming to hit a curb stomp and end this all. Mistake. Colossal mistake. Somehow, that split second gave Dean just enough time to recover. He rained punches down on Seth, and Seth found himself being driven into the corner. Dean's forearm was suddenly across his throat, pinning him against the turnbuckle.

"You were my brother, Seth!" he burst out.

Shit. Seth should've seen that coming, but it threw him all the same. He struggled wildly to get loose before Dean had a chance to say anything that'd unnerve him further. Okay, lesson learned. No more playing around.

Just think of it like those documentaries he'd watched about World War II, when the soldiers talked about focusing on just targeting helmets to forget about the fact that they were taking aim at people. Don't think about the fact that this is Dean, don't think about the straightjacket, and for God's sake don't think about the two things in the same sentence. Just focus on the mechanics of it. Arms go into sleeves, straps go around things, buckles are meant to be fastened-

Seth's train of thought was summarily and violently derailed when Dean's boot collided with his skull. He stumbled away to gather his wits while Dean struggled out of the straightjacket. Back to square one, then. Damn it all. He could do this. He could.

For the next stretch of the match, Seth didn't even have room to think. All he could do was fight. On and on and on it seemed to go, until Seth wasn't sure there ever was a time before it, or that there'd be anything after it, either. And then he and Dean both were bolting across the ring in opposite directions, gaining momentum, rebounding off the ropes, and there wasn't enough time to change tactics as they simultaneously went for a cross-body.

Seth lay flat on his back, gasping for air. God damn it, it felt like he got hit in the ribs by a truck. Not seeing straight, Seth tried to push himself upright. He grabbed onto the first thing his hand made contact with. A shirt? The ref's?

Then there was a hand cradling the back of his head, and one under his arm, supporting him. Seth forced his eyes to focus. Not the ref. Dean. Dean Ambrose looking down at him – not with rage or hatred or disgust, but with something else. Sadness? Regret? It was hard to tell. Seth reached up, put a hand in Dean's face, trying to push him away and Dean's expression hardened. He shoved Seth back to the ground.

While Seth struggled, Dean stood up. Not good. Seth had to get to his feet, had to do something, or it would all be over. Suddenly, Dean took Seth's head in his hands again, gently but firmly forcing Seth to look up at him. There was that look in his eyes again.

"I loved you, alright?"

Dean pressed a kiss to Seth's forehead and released him, letting Seth fall back to his hands and knees. That past tense, "loved," took what little resolve Seth had left. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dean making a dash for the ropes. He knew what was coming. He knew he should get out of the way, and yet… He was just so tired.

Then a brief moment where he felt a boot on the back of his skull, then everything went black.

There was this rushing sound in Seth's ears that just wouldn't seem to go away. No… No, wait, it was something else. It was the sound of a cheering crowd and… music? Dazedly, Seth tried to push himself upright, but found that he couldn't. He had his arms folded across his stomach and he couldn't move them. Why couldn't he move them? What was -

The straightjacket.

With a jolt of panicked adrenaline, Seth came to his senses. He struggled against the fastened sleeves, demanded that the refs get him out of this damned thing, swore so virulently at them that the production truck was gonna have to cut the audio if they brought the cameras anywhere near him.

Dean never once looked back at him. Seth never got the chance to see if he'd keep that up, because the music cut out abruptly, and there were Randy and Kane charging down the ramp. For a fraction of a second, Seth had the irrational certainty that they were coming for him, not Dean. Okay, maybe it wasn't all that irrational. But it still gave him a sick sense of relief when they jumped Dean instead.

The next minute or so, though, things went right back downhill. Roman and Carly showed up to even the field, Kane got KO'd, Seth got himself speared through the barricade, and Randy decided that none of this was worth getting smacked around with a stick. Hunter wasn't gonna like this.

Once Seth got enough breath back to speak, he just let his mouth run, and bitched the whole way backstage. He latched onto the notion that Dean must've somehow cheated, that it was disgraceful to use somebody's own finisher against them, that Carly tricked him into this stupid stipulation in the first place.

"Don't worry about it," said Hunter, putting a reassuring hand on Seth's shoulder, "Everyone has an off night once in a while. It's unfortunate, yes, but it doesn't change anything."

Seth knew that soothing tone. That's the way Hunter talked to Randy and Batista. Regardless of how nice he sounded, Seth knew that Hunter was not happy with him right now.

xXx

The next morning, at the ritzy hotel members of the Authority were staying at, Paige plunked a cup of coffee next to Seth's elbow before dropping into the chair next to him and kicking her feet up on the table.

"Thanks," said Seth, with a passable pretense of sincerity.

"Sure thing," said Paige.

She went back to giggling over clips of Family Guy on her cell phone, and Seth mechanically took a sip of coffee. He nearly gagged. There was so much cream and sugar in it that it could barely be called coffee anymore. Seth found himself feeling suddenly, indescribably homesick.

Even if he wasn't just pretending to be part of the Authority, spending this much time around them would still be exhausting. Randy Orton had to be flattered, had to have his ego appeased almost constantly. And Kane? The man was a pyromaniac who enjoyed torturing people. Who in their right mind would keep a guy like that around?

He missed Roman and Dean. He missed their familiar company, and their long hours of work and travel. Hell, he even missed all their stupid arguments. He missed Roman thumping him on the back way too hard when he was excited, and always being willing to literally carry him to the trainers' room when he got hurt (whether Seth needed it or not.) He missed Dean's stupid singing all the time, and that weirdly honored feeling he had about being one of the few people Dean Ambrose actually cared about. He missed Carly, and her dumb determined idealism, and how she asked him how he liked his coffee a grand total of once and then never forgot.

At least that was one good thing about hanging around Paige. She never noticed anything, let alone the fact that Seth seemed sad for no apparent reason. He didn't have to pretend as hard around her. Seth took another resigned sip of the bland, over-sweetened swill.

The entire dénouement of his plan was crumbling brick by brick. Although… the Authority was gonna lose power sooner or later. It was inevitable. Seth could just stay with them until then. He'd kept up the act for this long, right? It wouldn't be actually becoming part of the Authority. He'd just be using them, for protection and stuff.

Seth frowned into his coffee. Being a traitor ironically still made him a traitor. And the more he thought about it, the more disgusted he became with himself for even considering it as an option. This wasn't him. Yeah, he was a strategist. He was practical, but he wasn't this cowardly rationalizing mercenary.

He'd go through with his plan, all of it. Even if there really was no going back. Even if it meant he'd be completely on his own, without a friend in the whole godforsaken company. He was Seth Rollins, damn it. He'd been part of the Shield, the greatest faction in WWE history, and there's no way he's gonna shy away from getting the job done now.

xXx

Seemed there was a bit of opportunist left in Hunter yet. After Seth's – okay, let's call it what it is, here – failure against Dean, Hunter wasn't too keen on leaving Roman's fate in the hands of Barrett. But Barrett's misfortune in going and getting himself injured was the perfect opening for Hunter. He was gonna make sure Roman didn't win that qualifying match… by fighting Roman himself.

Surprisingly, Randy didn't complain about this. But the way he raised his chin a fraction of an inch and narrowed his eyes spoke volumes. By rights, this should be Randy's match. He's the one Roman called out, and he's the one who'd have the most to lose if Roman got into that ladder match, and he's supposed to be the Authority's number one contender in the first place.

Getting told to help out with a pre-match beatdown, and to hang around backstage to keep Dean (and any of his newfound friends) from interfering? That's grunt work. That's what the goon squad was for. Seth didn't have to like – or even respect – Randy to agree that that kinda thing was beneath him.

So, what gives? Was Hunter just that arrogant or desperate for control that he felt like he had to do this himself? Or was this a sign of his lack of faith in Randy? Randy seemed to think it was the latter option, clearly. Either way, the situation just got a lot more interesting…

xXx

"What the hell?"

Seth leaned closer to the monitor. Out of nowhere, some blonde Rosebud came charging down the ramp. He watched in disbelief as she slid into the ring, dashed past Triple H and the referee, leapt onto Roman, and… punched him in the face?

"What the hell?" Seth repeated.

Seth's bafflement only lasted for a moment, as he heard Lillian Garcia announce that – due to a disqualification – Roman Reigns had won the match and a spot in the pay-per-view. Seth's jaw dropped.

"That sneaky little shit," he breathed, fighting the urge to be impressed.

Nobody but Carly would think to exploit a DQ finish by attacking her own client. And in disguise, too. She'd set herself up to get away scot-free unless…

Of course, there was Randy. He'd probably been hanging around backstage waiting to get in a post-match beatdown on Roman. But if he was back there, he must've seen Carly run down to the ring. Why didn't he stop her? Maybe he was just as confused as everybody else. Or maybe… maybe Randy's plans had changed. After seeing Hunter's apparent lack of faith in him, maybe Randy wanted Roman in that ladder match, if only for a chance to prove himself again.

Seth made absolutely sure not to let anybody see the gears turning in his head, because Hunter was pissed when he came backstage. Once again, Carly pulled one over on him, and it was starting to fray his composure. The Game demanded access to security footage. He poured over every camera angle from the actual broadcast. He honest-to-God hauled Adam Rose and the Halloween Express in for questioning, only to get stonewalled by a man sucking on a lollipop, which just pissed him off even more.

Everybody knew Carly was the one who interfered, there just wasn't any way to prove it. Normally, lack of conclusive evidence wouldn't be enough to stop Hunter from getting retribution. But this was different. This was somebody who (allegedly) was in good with the chairman. One wrong move against her and hers could bring a whole lotta trouble down on Hunter's head.

In simple terms, that meant that pulling Dean and Roman from the pay-per-view was out of the question. But they didn't call Hunter the Cerebral Assassin for nothing. Seth wasn't sure how, but he knew Hunter would find some way – any way – to get the Shield and Carly out of his way.

But first – damage control. Smackdown kicked off with the Authority fluffing its own collective ego and pretending that they hadn't just gotten completely embarrassed again. Seth played his part in the proceedings to a T. Still, the act was wearing thin. He'd really started looking forward to the end of this, or at least the beginning of the end. The Money in the Bank pay-per-view couldn't come soon enough.

Nobody was surprised that Carly found the need to butt in on the action, and nobody was less surprised than Hunter. However, Seth's pretty sure he was the only one to notice that Carly seemed a little… out of it. Why was anyone's guess. She'd just gotten everything she wanted, hadn't she? Who knows. Maybe she knew she was gonna take the fall for all of it.

Seth wasn't sure why Hunter decided to give them the chance to decide how best to punish the Shield, but he jumped at it. Banning Dean from doing anything tonight was effective in that it'd annoy the hell out of him without adding any fuel to his fire. Also, it made Seth look like a real asshole to the audience, which was always a plus.

Naturally, Randy would take advantage of the opportunity to finally face Roman himself. But Paige never got a chance to have her say. Probably because she was just gonna be the instrument of Hunter's revenge in all this. Maybe because Hunter didn't trust her enough to come up with something good on her own. Being the Emperor's Hand had its pros and cons, apparently.

"One thing I've got to hand to you as a manager, Carly," said Triple H, "Is your willingness to do anything to create opportunities for the Shield. You always take a very hands-on approach. I mean, some people might even go so far as to call you interfering."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. A person'd have to be pretty damn stupid not to realize what was going on here, and Hunter's murderous glare had made tougher people crack, but Carly looked convincingly confused. Smart girl. Now wasn't the time to go admitting to what she'd done.

"And since you like getting involved so much," said Triple H, "You're going to be in a match tonight against the Diva's Champion, Paige. Of course, the Shield will be banned from ringside. And like Seth said, any violation of that ban – and any infractions of the rules whatsoever – will result in them losing their places in the Money in the Bank pay-per-view."

Hunter's entrance music cut in then, bringing the exchange to an abrupt and awkward halt. Guess he didn't want to give Carly a chance to have the last word. Judging by the look on her face, though, she didn't have anything to say.

Paige looked a pretty miffed when Hunter pulled her aside backstage, but at least she had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. Seth tried to edge close enough to hear what he was telling her. Something that required the use of Paige's lackeys, it sounded like. Unfortunately, he had to pretend to listen to Stephanie congratulating him and Randy on their handling of Ambrose and Reigns. Good God, could this woman give a compliment without sounding incredibly patronizing? By the time she was done, Seth could only catch the very end of the conversation.

"And, Paige?" Hunter was saying, "One more thing."

"What's that?" Paige said, glancing towards the door impatiently.

Good at taking orders, just not listening to them, huh? Hunter took a step closer to her, his eyes narrowed, and spoke in a low, deadly serious tone.

"Make sure she doesn't walk away from this one."

Paige's laugh was almost condescending, as if that went without saying. But Hunter didn't seem to mind. That ruthless streak was why he picked Paige in the first place. He smiled approvingly as Paige sauntered off to collect her posse.

xXx

That not-all-there look hadn't left Carly's eyes by the time she walked down to the ring. Not a good sign. She wasn't anywhere near Paige's level on a good day, let alone when she's all out of focus like that. Maybe if she couldn't put up much of a fight, it'd go quicker…?

Seth knew he was kidding himself. Paige learned her lesson since last time she faced Carly. What followed couldn't even be called a match. It was a completely one-sided beating. Seth wasn't sure what was more sickening – seeing a civilian getting tossed around like a ragdoll, or the smile on Paige's face the entire time. The fact that Hunter was standing right next to him, meaning he couldn't show any sort of negative reaction to the whole business, didn't help either.

Carly tapped the instant Paige locked in the PTO. She probably thought it was all over, but Seth knew better. Whatever Hunter had planned for her, it was just getting started.

The rest, well… Cole would call it "vintage" Hunter, and it was downright disturbing to watch. In a company that wouldn't even let the women wrestlers have so much as a goddamn no DQ match, to see a girl get handcuffed to the ringpost and beaten as coercion was as shocking as it was horrible.

Did it really only go on for a few minutes before Carly's allies rescued her? It felt like a hell of a lot longer from Seth's perspective. He couldn't even imagine what it was like for Carly herself, and he really didn't want to.

AJ disappeared after they cleared the ring, but the other three stayed. Emma stood guard, on high alert in case anybody tried to come back, while Natalya and Naomi comforted Carly. Seth was kinda glad Carly'd left her hair down for this fight. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing her face right then.

But Hunter was looking expectant, and Seth figured he oughta say something before he blew his own cover.

"You know she was never gonna cave," said Seth.

"Oh, I know," said Hunter, "It would've been nice if she had, but that was never really the point, was it?"

Seth mirrored Hunter's sinister smile, turning back to look at the monitor as Hunter patted him on the back. Mistake. He caught a glimpse of Carly's face and felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. She looked... In the most literal sense, she looked pitiful. She always was a wreck when she cried. The camera changed almost instantly, giving Seth, the crowd, and everybody watching at home a good long close-up of Carly's back.

It felt deliberate, and accusatory, even though Seth knew it was just his own guilt talking. But, god, did it ever look nasty. Mercifully, Hunter switched off the monitor, cutting off the sound of the whole arena chanting Carly's name. Seth could still hear it, though. Not even a dozen or so cinder block walls could deaden that entirely.

Paige stalked in, looking like she was about to blow a gasket. Her longstanding – well, proportionally longstanding – rivalry with AJ Lee was a sore point with her. But more than that, Seth imagined that Paige wasn't too happy about the fact that she'd failed her first big mission as the Emperor's Hand and all.

"I can't believe they got past security like that!" Paige fumed.

And her first move was to pin the blame on somebody else. A serviceable defense, but there wasn't any real finesse to it. Paige was gonna have to do better than that if she wanted to keep her position as Hunter's protégé.

"It's alright," Hunter said soothingly, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "You did a good job, Paige."

The praise did the trick, and she simmered down to a less huffy state. Seth did his part by nodding his approval and looking duly impressed. He could keep that up until the end of the night, right?

But he just wanted to get the hell out of there. He wanted to get away and be alone, and not have to deal with these smug sadists or with the horror and disgust literally radiating off of everybody who wasn't in the Authority's pocket. And the instant he could excuse himself without seeming rude, Seth fled the scene.

Thankfully, his lucrative connections with the Authority allowed him to drown any fits of conscience he might experience in top-shelf whiskey.

xXx

Exhausted, Seth watched Dean drag himself up that ladder. So this was how it was gonna end. Everything he'd planned, and everything he'd done – all for nothing. Maybe he had enough strength left to get back in there and shove that ladder over. Maybe. But Seth couldn't bring himself to move. He was just so damn tired.

He'd done so many horrible things already, and there were just as many things that he let happen by his own inaction. It was supposed to be worth it. It was supposed to accomplish something, wasn't it? He was an idiot for thinking this would work. Look at where he ended up. No friends, no hope, no contingency plan.

When it came down to it, he didn't deserve for this to work out. What kind of person would be willing to do the things he did? How had he ever thought he was justified?

Dean had reached the top of the ladder, his fingertips just touching the bottom of the briefcase as he made a clumsy one-handed grab for it. Seth closed his eyes. Yeah, he'd only screwed himself over on this one. Maybe it was better this way-

Then came the explosion, the red glow of a sudden light filtered through his eyelids, the rush of heat against his face, the shocked outcry from the crowd. Kane.

Seth's eyes snapped open. What the hell was going on? A renewed surge of adrenaline enabled Seth to sit up and watch. The big red monster was storming down to the ring, and Dean… Goddamnit, Dean had more than enough time to snag the briefcase, but for some unknown reason he got down of the ladder to face Kane. And then ate a chokeslam and a Tombstone Piledriver.

Seth pulled himself back into the ring and scrambled to his feet. This wasn't part of the plan. Not Seth's. Not Hunter's. At least… not as far as Seth knew. Kane stared at him for a long moment, and then… took hold of the ladder, holding it steady. It was always hard to read Kane's expression under that mask, but Seth could tell he was impatient. This was what he'd been sent out here for: to ensure that Seth won.

It took Seth all of a split second to recover from his shock, to try to recalculate the fact that he wasn't going to lose everything he'd worked for, and to run up that ladder and grab that briefcase before Kane had a chance to change his mind.

Seth undid the clip, felt the weight of the heavy metal case transfer into his hands, heard his music blaring through the speakers. He had just enough presence of mind to start celebrating like he'd actually earned this victory. But inwardly his thoughts were in chaos.

Going from accepting that he was gonna have to lay down and die to being right back on track for his plans, and all of it in under five minutes? Talk about whiplash. But he could do this. This was the tipping point, right? After tonight, it'd just be a matter of waiting for an opportunity, and then taking it.

The next stretch of time was a bit of a blur, with being congratulated by the Authority's supporters and hangers-on, and Stephanie, too, before she shuffled him off to a backstage photo shoot. Hunter was somewhere else – busy, apparently – and that raised even more questions than Seth already had. Something didn't feel right.

Before long, Stephanie had gone off to attend to whatever the hell business it was she did, and Kane and Randy were on their way down to make their entrances, and it was just Seth and Hunter left in the Authority's office. Now, there'd been a couple of times where Seth was worried about blowing his cover or something. But not since that first meeting with Evolution had he felt honest-to-God nervous.

"Hey, Hunter? I just… I gotta ask," Seth said, laughing a little awkwardly, "That whole thing with Kane coming down to the ring and… I mean, was that always part of the plan?"

Hunter turned that mixed-messages smile on him, gripping his shoulder.

"Look at it this way, Seth," he said affably, "There was no way you were going to lose that match. After everything I've invested in you, did you really think I was just gonna let you embarrass me like that?"

Hunter's expression hardened, and the grip on Seth's shoulder tightened, but only for a fraction of a second. Then Hunter's smile turned friendly again.

Shit.

"Right! Of course," said Seth.

"Still, you did win the match, and the contract," said Hunter. He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to Seth, "And when you're part of the Authority, that sort of thing gets rewarded."

It was a set of keys for… a Cadillac ATS? Seth's eyes lit up, no acting required. The luxury models wouldn't be his first choice (he'd prefer something sportier, if anybody asked) but a car this nice was nothing to turn up his nose at.

"This is… Is this really-?"

"It's yours," said Hunter, "A future World Heavyweight Champion oughta go around in style."

"Thank you! Hunter, this is… God, this is incredible. Mark my words, when the times comes for me to cash this baby in," Seth said, patting the briefcase, "It's gonna do the Authority proud."

"Oh, I know," said Hunter, "I know."

But there was that edge in his smile again, and there was a sinking feeling in Seth's gut as he pocketed the keys. He suddenly had a very unnerving suspicion about what a gift like that meant.

Hunter didn't see him as an investment, or even a yes-man. He was keeping Seth around as a goddamn trophy. He was saying "See that? See the best member of the Shield? He's mine now." And the gifts and the titles and protection and threats – all of it was to keep Seth under his control. To keep him around to make Hunter and the Authority look good.

Dean was right. Dean was absolutely goddamn right. He was a freakin' puppet. All the time he'd been playing Hunter, Hunter'd been playing him, too. Shit.

Thank God he hadn't realized what Seth was up to. As long as Seth could keep up the act of being an arrogant, self-absorbed ladder climber (oh God, the pun was painful) he was safe.

And yet, things still managed to go freakin' slantways before the night was out. Randy didn't win the WWE WHC title. Neither did Roman, for that matter, or Kane. It got snapped up by Super Cena, of all people. Well, that was… unfortunate. Seth reached for the briefcase, turning towards Hunter.

"Should I-?"

"No." Hunter gestured for him to stay put, frowning thoughtfully. "No, not tonight."

Seth shrugged and sat back. Things weren't looking so great for Randy. Hell, things suddenly weren't looking great for his plan again, either. He'd really thought, of all things, Hunter would make sure Randy ended up with the win tonight. Looks like he'd just have to wait and see what the Game's angle was in all this.

Eh, Seth might as well look on the bright side. There was nowhere to go from here but up, right?

(Note: It's kinda funny, writing this and looking back on that time, considering all the things that've changed in canon since then. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me and is still reading this, and thanks especially to the lovely people who leave reviews!)