Chapter 18

It was a snowy evening in Cincinnati, Ohio, where WWE was for the night.

Why WWE would come to this slum of all places was beyond him. The finest hotel in the city didn't provide nearly enough class and posh for his style either. Vallea was currently off doing one of the many menial tasks he ordered her to do. Doing his laundry had been added to that list along with picking up his dry cleaning. He was making her miserable, pushing her to the breaking point and it was all on purpose. He wanted to break her, to make her submit to him and beg for relief or to simply quit. Ryan even forced her to work on her days off and he couldn't remember the last time she'd had a day off when she wasn't doing something for him.

The little bitch would break sooner or later.

Jon fucking HATED this place, and most people who knew him as Jon and not Dean, knew he did. Not everyone knew why, but…that was that. However, tonight, being back on his home turf, there were some advantages. He had been watching as Ryan steadily pounded Vallea into dirt and every night it seemed she was crying longer and longer in the shower. The man was purposefully out to ruin her, cause her a breakdown, and there was only so much a person could take before they snapped.

Or before someone snapped on their behalf.

He might've snapped. Just a little. Proof of that was the number he had texted, asking for a quick meet-up.

The man in question was none other than Nick Gage. He still lived in Philadelphia and wrestled in the Indies, after getting out of prison in 2011, but he was in Cincinnati for a very specific reason. Jon Moxley, one of his old friends and rivals in CZW, called him up and asked to meet in Cincinnati, but he wouldn't say why over the phone. Nick was very intrigued since he hadn't heard from Jon in a while, so he was curious what the man wanted. He walked into the bar of Jon's choice, looking around and spotted him after a few minutes since business was booming.

"Hey Mox." They collided hands, did the shoulder bump and sat down to discuss what was on the man's mind. Nick listened, raising an eyebrow higher and higher until it could go no more since he was bald, wondering if Jon was serious. He was. "So let me get this straight, you want me to…"

"Oh I'll help," Jon had absolutely no problem getting his hands dirty, again. Growing up rough, a lot of people tended to do shady things at one time or another as a matter of survival. Be it for a place to sleep, filling stomaches, or to stop someone from taking whatever one had, including their dignity. "He's a sick bastard, Gage." Now, so were they, but there had always been lines.

Women and children were usually where those said lines tended to exist.

Unless it was a scandalous, knife-wielding bitch, then sometimes exceptions were made.

"You will?" Nick had doubt in his voice because he couldn't think of a time Jon had gotten blood on his hands. Then again, the man had been born and raised in the Nasty Nati and it was the perfect place to pull something like this off. "No witnesses. And I want to be compensated for my part in this, man." Jon tossed over a folder stacked with bills and Nick let out a low whistle, knowing there had to be at LEAST 10 grand in here, maybe more. "When do you want this to go down? And why do you want this guy outta the picture?"

Jon had always kept information about himself at a minimum and there were reasons for that, not to mention just sheer habit. "Tonight. I already got myself an alibi set up and a few witnesses to my whereabouts." Because homeless people did a lot for money, including lie. That was probably the most honest and least degrading thing they did, actually. "Because he's going out of his way to hurt people I care about." Vallea's name was not leaving his lips tonight. Jon didn't need anyone to know about her or her name, just in case.

Her hands would stay snow white in this.

"Tonight? You want this to go down tonight? You gotta plan on how to make this happen?"

Jon went over everything with him, down to the last detail and all Nick had to do was the actual deed. Jon would hold the man down and Nick would take care of the rest. They had an hour before everything would go down, so they had a few beers and then left the bar to go hunting.

Ryan was right on time, sauntering out of a grungy motel straightening his tie. He'd just paid a whore off to tickle his pickle and now it was time to head back to the hotel for some shuteye. Naturally, he called the whore Vallea and ordered her to go by the name while he took her from behind, something he wanted to do to his assistant. The whore screamed out and Ryan relished in causing her pain, just like he did with Vallea, even if it was only emotionally and mentally. He could tell the toll working for him was taking on her and loved the agony in her eyes whenever he asked her to do something very demeaning.

If she didn't do as she was told, her boss would get another phone call and she would more than likely lose her job. Ryan had her by the figurative balls, so to speak. The cold night air bit at his lungs and face as he trekked to his car, which was down the street from the motel. He didn't need anybody, especially Vallea, to find out about his extracurricular activities. Ryan was checking his phone while walking down the side of the road and stopped at the sight of two men standing in front of his Cadillac, raising a brow.

"What can I do for you gentlemen? Here to get your rocks off too?" He couldn't see them due to how dark it was and there were no street lights on this road.

"Something like that."

Ryan knew that voice, he was just having a hard time placing it right now. His eyes narrowed, then widened when one of the men dared to park his ass on the hood of his Caddy. His baby. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Polishing it. Nice ride, man." Nick, like Jon, wore a grungy old beanie over his head. It was dark enough that with their heads both down, their faces could barely be seen. "Who do I gotta kill to get something like this?"

At this point, Ryan was starting to get some weird, niggly feelings up his spine and in his gut. It wasn't very often that he was anxious, or afraid, money usually tended to buy his way out of problems. Something told him that these two men weren't going to care about who he was, his power, or his money.

"A whore, usually." He tried joking, walking around slowly as he pulled out his car keys.

Nick didn't move, purposely planting his boot on the hood and put a small dent in it, making Ryan stop in his tracks. He was nothing more than prey out here. They were the predators and Nick had a feral smile on his face, his gangly teeth glinting in the darkness.

"What do you think, Mox?" He knew better than to use the man's birthname right now and heard the deep chuckle. "Would a whore gain us this beautiful ride, or the owner itself?"

"A whore would be fun to take on a ride…" Jon singsonged, reaching into his back pocket and procuring a pair of black leather gloves, slipping them on slowly, letting Ryan sort of get an idea of what he was doing. Darkness made everything scary enough, adding some weird noises…he wanted the man to be terrified. "Hey man, you should give us a lift."

"Yeah. You should." Nick agreed, his eyes flashing wickedly.

"Now, gentlemen-" Ryan had no idea who had moved first, but one second they were right there and the next one of the men had bashed his head against the side of the car.

He began cursing and crying at the same time.

"Aww look Mox, he's crying like the little BITCH he is!" Nick crowed, wanting to draw this out a little longer and something told him Jon did too. This man had done something horrible to Jon, who was like a brother to him, and he was going to pay the ultimate price for it. Nick didn't need to know the specifics; Jon asked for his help to get this done and it would…with no witnesses. "Tell me something, Ryan," He watched the man's eyes widen in shock at the fact they knew his name. "Do you know what happens to those who think they have all the power in the world? Do you know what happens to those who THINK they rule all?" Another bash of his head against the car had Ryan screaming out in pain and Nick relished in it, the blood slowly pouring down the side of his face.

"All right, let's load him up," Jon said with a sneer, walking around to snatch the keys from Ryan. "We're going to take your car and you on a ride man, it'll be GREAT!"

Ryan could only whimper, hearing them moving around and then he was up in the air. Time went crazy, moving fast and excruciatingly slow as he was carted around his own car. And he was in a shitty party in town, nobody would blink twice about this. Most people would probably look the other way and pretend they hadn't seen anything. Then he hit something hard, groaning as fresh waves of pain wracked him.

He was in his own trunk.

"Time for a drive."

Nick had no idea what Jon was doing and just followed suit, knowing the man was unpredictable and changed his mind more than his boxer/briefs. He simply slid in the passenger side while Jon took the wheel and buckled up, safety first and all that. He smirked at his own pun and blasted music to drawn-out Ryan screaming and pounding on the roof of the trunk, trying to break free. They had made sure to confiscate his phone and anything else, crushing it to pieces. Jon hummed to AC/DC – Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, his favorite song and what he'd named his wrestling finisher after. Dirty Deeds. This was indeed a dirty deed they were doing, but it had to be done. The world would soon be rid of a dirtbag.

It was a good long drive, mostly because Jon obeyed the traffic laws, not wanting to draw attention to them. He knew exactly where to do this, where nothing would be found for a good long while. Obviously, the car and the man couldn't remain together, no, that was just asking for trouble. Jon had every intention of driving it to his favorite chop shop and just walking away, knowing damn well the car thieves would have it stripped down within hours, if not less. When they had reached the spot, he cut the ignition and got out of the caddy, whistling under his breath.

Nick was pretty sure Mox was whistling…"Bro, is that…It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas or whatever that song is?"

Probably.

Christmas was in a couple of days, but why Jon would be humming THAT tune, when they were about to annihilate someone, was beyond Nick's understanding. Jon was always a crazy, wildcard and he learned that in CZW. Nobody could predict what he would do in matches, they were always called on the fly, on the spot, and somehow, everybody trusted him. They both got out of the car, hearing the slight sobbing from the trunk and Nick looked at Jon, asking him silently if this was what he really wanted to do. Jon answered him by opening the trunk and ripping Ryan's sweaty, bloody body out of it into the cold, unforgiving, deep snow.

This bastard was humming Christmas carols! Ryan realized that and began crying even harder, knowing without a shadow of a doubt he was going to die tonight by these lunatics. He had no idea who they were or what he had done to them, but he also knew they weren't going to show mercy and they couldn't be bought. That was just instinct coming through and Ryan knew to trust his gut.

"I kind of wish it wasn't snowy, I'd like to stomp your fucking skull in." Jon sighed, then looked towards the old rendering plant. "You know who the Joker is, right? How he got his ass dropped in a vat of acid?"

"That's sick, bro." But…it was smart. It'd take a long ass while to find the body, if ever.

"I-I never watched it…please, gentlemen…"

Nick was sick of the formalities from this asshole and slammed his foot into the side of his head, ordering him to shut the hell up. Ryan clutched his head, whimpering and pleading on his knees in the cold snow to spare his life. It was falling on deaf ears. Nick looked up at Jon and could see the resolve in the man's eyes, knowing his mind was made up. There was no changing it. Jon had made it clear this dickhead had to die, but he hadn't been clear on the specifics or how it would go down. Now he did.

"Up on your feet, dick. We're going for a little walk…" He yanked Ryan up by the back of his neck and punched him in the gut for good measure, watching him crash to the snow on his knees again. "What a pussy."

"That's what happens when you get soft, bro," Jon said scathingly. "You can't take your shit on your feet, like a real fucking man!" He planted his knee in Ryan's chin, watching as blood spurted out of the man's mouth, and sighed. Bending over, he grabbed the smaller, older man and hoisted him up over his shoulder. "Try not to bleed everywhere, okay?"

He led the way to the old plant, following the well-worn path through the snow. Hobos and homeless, junkies and whores, this place was somewhere people came, which was cool. It meant nobody would think twice about their tracks. Tonight it was all clear though, which was even better.

Nick followed silently, seeing the man unable to lift his head because of blood loss from his head injury as well as his face. Jon wasn't lying; he was going to dump this sack of shit into a vat of acid! Where the hell did he find this place anyway? Then again, it was Cincinnati, his hometown, and where he grew up. Jon knew this place like the back of his hand and he hadn't grown up in the most…pleasant conditions. Once they were inside, Jon ordered Nick to make sure there wasn't a blood trail in the snow on the way there. If there was, it would be evidence, should anyone come here. Nick nodded in understanding and went to do as Jon requested, refusing not to deliver since he'd been paid a shit ton of money to do this.

While Nick was off concealing evidence, Jon lugged Ryan up onto the rusted, rickety scaffolding. "So, Ryan, I really think this is for the best," He said conversationally, glad he was on the strong side or else this trip with this useless meat sack would suck. "Because you're terrible at your job, you know? You question everything about everything and then you get proven wrong by sales…" His shirts, for example. Those were still selling fantastically. "And you're a shitty boss." Which was the reason they were here. "Smell that?" He inhaled deeply, setting his boots onto the metal grating and peered down into one of the vats. "Delicious, isn't it?"

"P-Please…please, I-I'll give you a-anything you want! I-I'm rich! You can have my c-car! Y-You can have e-everything I h-have, just spare my l-life! D-Don't kill me…" Ryan was grabbed by the throat, trembling from head to toe, and finally looked into the cold, icy eyes of none other than Dean Ambrose.

There was light in here and he could see the man's vindictive face, swallowing hard. Why was he being targeted by this wrestler, of all people? His words pierced through Ryan's mind about being a shitty boss, trying to find the final piece of the puzzle.

"I-I won't…question you…anymore. Please…" He clawed at Dean's arm, trying to get the man off him and Dean's hand just squeezed tighter.

"See, it's not about me, Ryan, bucko. I'm just the one handling it for her." Jon purposefully let that last bit out, waiting to see if there was anyone truly at home in Ryan's beaten, addled skull.

There was, but only slightly. Ryan licked his lips as he mulled that all over, light and comprehension suddenly flaring in his eyes. "V-Vallea?" He whispered hoarsely, his hands still grasping at Dean's as he was raised over the ledge.

"Vallea." He dropped Ryan without a second thought. His hands dropped to the railing as he stared over, watching as Ryan landed right in that vat.

The screams were instant.

Music to his ears.

Nick was still outside cleaning up the mess Ryan had left behind, though it wasn't a lot and easy to cover up. He could faintly hear the shrill scream from the man from outside and knew Jon had done it, dropping him in the vat of acid. What a way to die! Nick did NOT envy that man one bit and made a mental note not to piss Jon off in the near future. He really didn't want to be dropped in a vat of acid – that's not how he planned on leaving this world.

"Hey Mox, everything is cleaned up and the car guys are ready for us to drop the Caddy off. You sure you don't wanna keep it as a souvenir?" He chuckled, turning to look at Jon, and noticed the faraway look in his friend's eyes. "Yo, Mox, you straight, man?"

"Yeah, I'm straight, bro." Jon reached out to grab his friend's hand, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. "Thanks, man, couldn't have done it without you."

"Hey, we're brothers, you know I'd do-" Nick didn't get to finish his sentence.

Because Jon had snapped his neck. Quick, hopefully painless, and he really didn't want Nick to finish that sentence anyway. This was one murder he would probably feel remorse over, he didn't need anything added to that. Sighing, he lifted Nick's body and turned back towards the plant. One down and then he'd get rid of the caddy.

No witnesses.

There could be none because Ryan was a well-known man with a million-dollar company. A corporate stooge that enjoyed abusing his power when it came to his employees. Vallea was the perfect example of that. After Ryan had established himself with WWE, he had ordered Vallea to take the brunt of the workload that came with it. Instead of hiring someone more qualified, he forced his personal assistant, since she was under contract, to do all the work by herself and bogged her down.

It was his way of slowly breaking her down into nothing and proving his superiority over her. When Jon found that out, he had to act before Vallea wound up dead from exhaustion and stress. She barely slept at night these days because she had so many deadlines to meet with the designs and whatnot. Now, her problem was solved with Ryan's death and hopefully, Vallea would be able to breathe a little easier with that sack of shit gone and out of her life forever, thanks to her mountain savior.

Her exhaustion had played out in his favor tonight. Jon had told her he was going to meet up with old friends from the neighborhood and she had nodded once before passing the hell out. He had done as he said, and then come and done this. Once the caddy was in place, he headed back to the bar he had been hanging out in, pretty sure a lot of people would swear up and down he had been there all night. He changed in the bathroom, stuffing the clothes he had just committed double homicides in into a black bag, planning on tossing them into a hobo's burn barrel.

Right now, he needed a drink.