(It's been a long-time coming folks. But I hope that it was worth the wait. Thank you for your patience and please enjoy the newest chapter of This Is The Moment. Hannah x)

'Your fight is with me.'

You fight is with me. So was everyone else's. Every fight. All the time. With Seth Rollins. Had he created this cycle of madness around himself? Was he the dismal sun at the centre of this solar system of violence? Had his craving, his ambition put into motion some sick kind of magnetism which ensured that everything was drawn to him, him all the time? If it wasn't physical pain, physical harm being done to him, to people he loved and people he cared about, then it was others being taken away. He couldn't count on his crippled fingers any more how many battles had been fought to come to this deadlock of war. There was no belt in his future now, he could only hope to run Smackdown and perhaps pray that one day he would be in a good enough condition to attempt to clamber between those ring ropes with a whistling hope of competing again.

'Leave Sami out of this Hunter.'

That cold laugh. It was a husky, deep sound which reverberated from the throat to Seth's gut. He could feel the echo turn whatever was left of the scraps of food he'd managed to stomach that day. Clearly Hunter hadn't lost his sense of humour in his time away, because he was in horrifyingly good spirits it seemed.

'Please, Seth. Have some sense, I have no argument with Zayn. That's Owens' fight, not mine. I just happen to be benefitting from their ruthless hatred of one another.'

'How?' he regretted the question as soon as it left him.

'Because I get to speak to you, Seth. Zayn disappearing caught your attention and it's got you on broken glass, though I must wonder, have you ever left that field of eggshells that you so perilously entered when you stepped into my ring?'

He hated him. He hated him with every fibre, every muscle, every cell, every drop of blood that swam around his veins and arteries. Once he could have, perhaps, thought of the man as a comrade – the long game was enough that he'd been able to put himself where he needed to be but his seething resentment at times had given way to a familiarity that he was ashamed of. He would never like Hunter, but respect him? He had. But now, any ounce, any hint of respect was replaced with that loathing, that depthless loathing that could only have been called abyssal.

'Fine, you have my attention, have Owens let Sami go, and you can have time. Is that what you want, Hunter? Because you've taken so much of it already in my time here, what's a few more seconds, minutes, hours, days? Fuck it, why not years?'

'Delightful of you to offer, but I don't want years,'

'What do you want, Hunter?' Seth growled through gritted teeth.

Next to him, Bren mimicked him, bearing her little sharp jaws at the phone, snarling, nostrils flaring, ears tucked back, sensing the threat. Roman bent down and started to gently stroke her head and ears to calm her. It was apparent, that he was listening in his quiet, focused way. But he wasn't looking at Seth, he kept his bespectacled eyes on the ground, ears pricked much like the dogs.

'Decades.'

The word was said with such joyful sincerity that Seth nearly threw the phone across the room. But he somehow restrained himself.

'Hunter, you've already won. I'm crippled. I can't compete. There's nothing more to break. My wrestling career is over, done, kaput. Unless there's a miracle, I'm not aware of then I'm finished. What's the point of this, of all of this. Revenge? Short of killing me Hunter, there's honestly little more that you can do. Me, my family, we're broken, we're tired. I have no idea what more you can take.'

This, apparently, bemused Hunter. There was a short pause on the other end of the phone – mumbled voices that Seth couldn't quite make out. Roman finally looked up at him, there was a grim line on his mouth, but there was something else there, Seth could see it, a faint glimmer of an idea within his brother's eyes. He didn't dare ask, but the intrigue was enough to take some of the frustration out of his tone.

'I'm not saying we will have peace Hunter, because God knows I hate you. But honestly, what's the fucking point now?'

'Because I have a proposition for you Seth. You see, I'm a patient man. I'm willing to wait. You say you're unable to fight, and I know that to be true. Your brotherhood? I know they are broken too, Roman's fighting a concussion which could kill him, your Ambrose has toddled off to join a different family and I know that Paige's mental health right now is rock bottom -,'

'Don't you talk about her. Don't you fucking dare -,'

Hunter ignored him, 'Seth, we're going to get you fixed up. The best surgeons. The best professionals. From across the world. To fix you. To get you better. To help Roman too. The best nurses, psychiatrists, everything you need. Available to you, your brotherhood, and your fiancé – congratulations of course, I never gave them.'

Seth felt practically ready to vomit. His stomach was churning to an unholy degree. A sickness akin to poison. Venom seeping from a viper's bite. The very idea that Hunter was even thinking about Paige in the slightest was an abomination of a thought. It was like bile burning in the back of his throat. He felt himself waver and Roman stood up, allowing him to lean against him like a pillar of salt, unmoving.

What did he think of what was being uttered?

A promise…a potential…to get himself healthy? To get his legs and his hands fixed? The very thought of even being able to get back into a wrestling ring again…it was a deal with the devil, and it was being served up on a fucking silver platter and he knew it. The opportunity to have someone who was able to help Paige far better than he could…He knew that beyond hiding the bourbon and offering his heart up to her still beating and bloody there was little he could do without more help…he'd never faced her kind of grief before, the trauma she was experiencing at the hands of Wyatt…he knew what they had done to him, but it was a physical pain. Not what she felt. Not what Dean felt.

'What's the catch Hunter.'

'Why, when you're cleared and ready, you fight me of course. The battle to end this once and for all Seth, because when I come for you, I'm coming for everything that you have, everything that your family have. I want to build you up, to watch you lose it all. To see it crumble through your fingers as you desperately try to hold on. I'm giving you hope, Rollins. Because nothing will please me more than when I get to take it away from you forever.'

Seth's tongue felt fat in his mouth, but somehow, somehow the muscle connected to his brain.

'And…if we do this, if we fight again Hunter, if I win – what then? What if I win Hunter?'

The thought had apparently not crossed the bastards mind, because there was a considered pause. He could almost imagine the magnanimous fucker tapping his massive chin in thought. All the while what was happening to poor Sami beyond the mask of Hunter's voice? Owens needed to be taught a lesson. But all this violence was circular, Seth realised it now. If Owens got beaten, Sami got beaten, worse. There had to be some way to end this. All of this, not just with Owens and Sami, but the divide between the wrestlers. The days of respect and well-meaning rivalry had given way to loathing, to rage, to bitterness and desire to cause pain and crippling injury.

When he was a kid and watched wrestling on the television, he could remember wrestlers shaking hands. He could remember rivals showing respect after campaigns of matches. He could remember a golden age where there was nobility to the sport.

If only there was some fucking way back.

'If you win Seth,' Hunter said, very slowly, 'the McMahon family will hand over full control of the WWE, to you,'

Holy shit.

The balls. The sheer fucking confidence. He could have choked on it. In fact, he hoped Hunter did. But Seth nearly did first. He held that phone so far away from his face that he must have looked terrified of it. He could feel his eyes drying out from how wide they were, and when he finally turned to look at Roman, his brother had near the same expression. Neither could believe what they were hearing.

'Full control?' Seth finally repeated.

'Agreed,' Hunter replied, oddly cheerful despite the weight of his promise, 'Vince will be handing over to us later in the year, which gives you plenty of time to heal up. Come next year Seth, we will all be in a very different position to where we are now, which presents us with ample opportunity to bring this dance to a climax. One delicious, raw, bloody ending. You see Seth, my promise of reward to you is beyond diamonds, but the likelihood of you claiming that prize is below zero. When you and your brotherhood are healthy, Seth. I will dismantle you, piece by piece, properly this time. When I am done with you, your dreams of a belt will be mere childhood memories. When I am done Seth, you, and your brothers, will never walk, talk, or smile, again.'

Seth glanced to Roman, who responded with a singular nod. Yes. It was as if the man, that Superman didn't have to even think about it. The opportunity to get fixed, even if it could be at the cost of losing it all once more was too promising, too much. They were all fucked. The potential to be fighting fit once more…and the chance to rid themselves of the Authority for good.

It couldn't be passed.

It couldn't be ignored.

There was only one answer.

'Hunter. You're on. But just one side note to our agreement, just one additional thing. If you'll entertain me.'

'Taking advantage of my good intentions Seth? Very well. Tell me Rollins. Tell me what it is you want.'

'A contract. A signing. In a ring. On National Television. Bound in ink. Bound in blood I don't care what. But if this is not in writing, if this is not legally bonded, then we have no deal, Hunter. I want this clean. I want this understood, because we do this Hunter, I need you to have clarity. I need you to know. You broke me. You destroyed me. You took everything. And now? It's your turn.'

He ended the call.

Roman glanced at him, 'Not what either of us expected,'

Seth shook his head, pocketed his phone, and ran his crippled fingers through his hair. He could feel the lack of care it was currently surviving with. His whole body was suffering, his skin was gaunt, his nails were a heading toward an unhealthy shade, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything green. He was killing himself slowly with stress, let alone worrying about future Hunter deciding to finish the job once and for all.

'His confidence shall be his downfall,' Seth muttered, 'Fuck, I wish I'd recorded that. Just in case the bastard backs out.'

Quite suddenly Roman smiled. He held up his hand. He had his own phone, and Seth could see that the voice recorder app was running. Seth could have fucking kissed him.

'Rome, you beautiful bastard! We've got him! We've got the prick!'