Thank you to everyone who is following, favoring or reviewing. I appreciate all the support you guys rock! Disclaimers and warnings are in chapter one. Randy doesn't make much of an appearance in this chapter its punkcentric. I'm still not sure I am in love with this chapter but it gets the story going in the direction I need. I promise soon Punk will be getting revenge on certain people. My Punk muse is pissed after this chapter and I understand why. So i am going to sooth his ego and hide from any thrown objects. Please read and review I live for the reviews they are my addiction. Thanks on to the story.
Punk was evaluating his life, and recent choices. Everything was upside down and inside out. How is it that he woke up snuggled into Randy Orton of all people? How did he end up in the Vipers Den and willingly allow the snake to coil around him as he slept and feel safe. Lately he seemed to be losing a part of himself, even before the attacks and the stalking began Punk had felt lost. Between family issues, work issues, and relationship problems Punk's confidence had taken a hit and the cocky attitude had become a harder act then usual. Now here he laid watching randy sleep and wondering how the man in front of him could look so peaceful while he was asleep but tear apart everything around him when he was conscious to the world. Punk knew it was ridiculous to feel safe here Randy was insane and no one around him was ever immune to the vipers venom. Yet he found himself drawn to the man, he enjoyed his company and the talks they ha when Punk was fearing for his life were actually quite eye opening. Last night though he had allowed Randy to cross a line and that would never happen again. Punk did not do one night stands let alone make out with guys and he had been seriously close to begging Randy for more. This was going to stop he was not going to let some bitch ass stalker fuck up his life anymore, he was done with these games. The person behind this had to be a coworker and Punk was going to find out who, then they were going to have hell to pay. Punk slide quietly out of the bed and after dressing left the room glancing back briefly at the sleeping figure of Randy.
Punk spent the whole morning doing press, then proceeded to the airport to catch a flight home. Randy had texted him a few times but punk did not respond he needed space and time to figure everything out. The only good thing about the day so far was he hadn't felt like he was being watched, every move hadn't been scrutinized and he was able to relax. By the time he got to his home he felt exhausted. It was early evening and Punk was extremely glad to be back in his beloved city. After a light dinner Punk settled in front of his TV for a marathon of Walking Dead.
It was almost midnight when an eerie feeling settled into the pit of Punk's stomach, he looked around the room he had been about to doze off when he had heard a noise, he could have sworn it was coming from the main bed room, a light thumping sound. He tried to tell himself it was just paranoia that what he had heard was all in his imagination but he could shake the feeling someone was in his home. He stood slowly making his way to the door and found the alarm system still armed and the door securely locked just the way he had left it upon entering his home. Punk pulled his cell phone out of his pocket tempted to call Colt and ask him to come over to ease his mind. He stared at the phone and took a deep breath he hadn't heard from Colt in three days and that was highly unusual Punk had a feeling he had done something wrong in Colt's mind but he had no clue what it was. Paranoia that's all this is Punk thought to himself you cannot call Colt at midnight to have him come check under your bed for monsters. Punk took a deep breath and turned walking towards his bedroom his finger hovering over the phone in his hand in case he needed to call for help. He pushed open the door to his room slowly stepping inside at first glance Punk saw nothing unusual until he noticed the slight breeze through the room. His window was wide opened and Punk felt the panic rise he hadn't open that window had yet to even be in his bedroom his bags were still sitting in the living room. Like a moth to a flame Punk walked towards the window his finger subconsciously hitting the bottom to call Colt. He lifted the phone to his ear just as he reached the window. He heard a obviously half a wake Colt answer "Colt I think I am in trouble" he stated quickly he heard a noise behind him but didn't turn freezing slightly in fear he kept his eyes trained on the glass in front of him "I'm at home come quick" he pleaded. That's when he saw him, his reflection in the glass the light from the hallway just enough to illuminate his stalker. Fuck thought Punk as his attacker struck his head hit the window in front of him hard the glass spider and crackled and that was the last thing Punk heard before he dropped onto the floor unconscious.
Brock Lesner stood over the fallen man smirking, bouncing from one foot to the other his adrenaline running at top speed. "Relax Brock" a voice stated from the doorway " it's not about beating the crap out of him today, its about destroying his reputation and getting him a little vacation. Get him up onto the bed." Paul Heyman strolled into the room looking at the man who betrayed him and laughed lightly to himself. "Cabana is on the way I'm sure so we have to hurry." Paul stated watching his beast place Punk's unconscious body on the bed. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled a needle from his coat pocket. The syringe was already filled with a brown liquid, and Paul felt a little twinge of guilt in his gut. Yet it did not stop him from raising the sleeve of the straight edge superstar and a few moments later pulling the now empty syringe from his tattooed skin. Brock watched on with a sick fascination, the truth was he had nothing against Punk hell he liked him and really did want to have a chance at that ass but he would not go against Paul, hell if anything the last few weeks showed Brock how incredibly far off the deep end Heyman had truly gone.
"Do you really think that's going to work the whole world knows he doesn't do drugs?" Brock questioned Paul as the man stood.
"Of course it will, this plan is fool proof. Cabana will arrive shortly and find Punk here with a needle beside him and Punk unconscious, the man will be rational and call 911 not knowing that there is barely enough drugs in there to make Punk high. They will do a tox screen in the ER and before ya know it all the wrestling community will be reporting that Punk was brought in on a drug overdose. When Punk wakes up he will be trying to tell everyone the truth but it will sound like the paranoid delusions of a druggie put that together with the beating he took a few weeks ago, the emails he's been sending and everyone will think he has lost it. By the time Randy finishes with him in a few weeks he will be so broken that he will come groveling back to me apologizing for ever trying to leave me in the first place its fool proof. Nothing can go wrong so just relax Brock." Paul Heyman was a genius and was currently relying on the stupidity of the rest of the human race. However even evil masterminds can overlook the small things and make mistakes. As the duo left the house they didn't see Colt standing in the shadow his cell phone still pressed to his ear. When Punk had dropped the phone the call didn't disconnect so as Colt had hurried to Punk's he had over heard everything, yet he was torn. He knew Punk well enough that he would want Heyman to think that his plan was working so Punk could have the upper hand, yet he couldn't ruin Punk's reputation. So as he went into Punk's house he did not know if he should call for an ambulance or wait until his friend woke up on his own.