Randy Orton is a man who likes to live by his own way, helping & hurting only ones who benefit him. A viper, a snake. That all changes when he finds a blonde boy being attacked in an alley & saves him. The boy had been through hell & now Orton has to deal w/ not only his own troubled life, but Adam's as well... This fic is complete all except for typing it out. & it's Redge, Randy deff gets Adam here. My Jeff muse wanted nothing to do w/ it, he bowed out gracefully and I respected his wishes. There isn't a Hardy boy in this story. That's strange for me, I know. But eh, one fic that was Jedam/Jeff-less wasn't going to hurt. Esp since I ended up writing this all out in one night. I don't think it's that epically long, but oh-well. It's a fic just the same. There is dark themes, drama, rape, kidnapping, character deaths, bondage, forced, language, violence. It is AU, non-wrestling, OOC, etc. Randy/Adam. Forced Hunter/Adam, Phil/Adam, Miz/Adam, Drew/Adam, Ted/Adam. Adam is my damsel in distress, he bottoms. I also use characters in ways I'm not used to. Characters include; Randy, Edge, Hunter, Punk, Drew McIntyre, Ted DiBiase, Miz, Batista. Cody Rhodes & Morrison are also mentioned. I still own nothing, even after 45 fics. I still make nothing.
Vipers and Angels;
Chapter one/ 'Angel in the Alley'
Rated; M/ L, S, V (rape, murder)
The alley was dark and cold. Damp still from the earlier rain. There was water dripping from somewhere. Drip drip drip. In the distance he heard sirens and cars and honking. Some woman was yelling at a man that they were through and she had had it. A door slammed and the man started pounding and screaming to be let in.
"I'll call the cops, Tommy! I'm not kidding! You better leave here!"
"C'mon, Susan.." Pound pound pound. Then a clank as he probably kicked the door. "Ah, fuck you. You'll be sorry."
Standing propped up against a wall in the shadows, he smirked. Regular icy blue eyes made look like two deep black holes as his face remained half-silhouetted by both shadow and moonlight. It was chilly and he had his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his long coat. He stepped away from the wall. Not flinching as a cat hissed, yowling and clawing at his sudden movement before darting off the trash can lid it had previously been curled up on and running off. The lid made a clatter as it toppled off and crashed to the ground.
The man brought his cigarettes out of his pocket along with a lighter, sticking one in his mouth before lighting it up. He puffed what little comfort it brought to him, letting the smoke out through his nostrils. It was a quiet boring night aside from the usual busy city life around him. Rain, people walking and talking, arguing couples, traffic, fucking alley cats and other squeaking scampering vermin. A rat sat cleaning itself by his shoe. Its paws rubbing over its furry bowed head. He took another long drag before nudging the small gray creature with the toe of his shoe. The rat looked up at him, blinked its beady red eyes, little nose twitching as if asking 'why?' or trying to figure out for itself if the what that disturbed it were predator. Then it scampered away, its worm-like tail slithering along behind it and its nails scratching the pavement.
Rats. They had such a bad rep.
Like him, he supposed.
A Viper as he was called. A slithering snake with his belly to the ground, always coiled and ready to strike. Poetic.
He was modeled against a man called the Rattlesnake. Someone not on the right side of good or evil. A man who did whatever the hell he wanted. Be damned anything else or who got saved or hurt. It didn't make for allies. The occasional acquaintance, sure. But they were expendable. If need be, they could be used and then put out. He'd bite anyone in the ass for his cause. Good. Bad. Both were irrelevant terms for him. He turned on good people. Helped bad people and then turned on them. He could only trust himself and even then... he couldn't trust himself. He did what he wanted, lived how he wanted, and did whatever it took to survive. Beyond bad or good.
He flicked the cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out with the heel of his shoe before walking away. The alleys were quiet, reeking of the usual puke and decay. The usual sounds he knew so well. Some dogs barking in the distance. Those dogs always did that. It was nothing.
His feet made little sound on the ground. He'd learned to be quiet and stealthy. Like a viper. Like a snake hiding and silent in wait until he had to strike.
Movement caught his eye up ahead. Some clatter and a pained whimper.
"Please.. leave me alone.." A stressed voice, hoarse and small.
And a quiet whispered reply. "Shut up.. you're gonna do nothing to draw attention, y'hear?"
"Please.." Crying. "Please, no more.." And a scream. A heart-wrenching wail and a long drown out sob, another grunt from the other voice.
"Shut up." A slap in the dark. "I told you to be quiet. You're going to pay for that.. you're gonna get it harder.. oh, fuck.."
The Viper's eyes darkened. Cold and malicious. Some thing was having his sick way with some boy. Usually he wouldn't care. But that scream, those sobs, would haunt him.
The boy let out a gasp, kicking at a trash can and clawing at his attacker's arms as they held to his throat, thrusting into his tired body in the filthy alley. Some folded up boxes and trash bags under him. He had been beaten and raped and was scared and alone.
"You've been a pretty little whore." The attacker said, voice thick and gruff with lust. He reached up with one hand to push his long black hair out of his face. "Good little bitch.. my dick sure likes being in you.. I hate what I'm about to do you.. Sorry, bitch, it's just business." He said, pulling a knife out from his boot. He drew back and the boy caught a glimpse of himself in the shinning blade. His skin pale and drained, his long blonde hair greasy and tangled in his face and around his neck. Hazel green eyes, lost and jittering, wide with intense fear and his lips parted in a silent gasped whisper of a plea for mercy.
The man tried to swing the knife down but someone strong caught his arm, jerking it back. The attacker yelled out in pain and felt his arm snap. The blonde curled up in himself, crying silently as his rapist was yanked off him. All was blurry and muffled, dark images flashed before him but he couldn't make them out. He heard his attacker screaming but everything sounded like he was under water. His eye lids fluttered shut and he let the darkness claim him.
The attacker swung his good arm, his broken one hanging loosely at his side and the knife dropping to the ground with a clank. "You sonofabitch!" He stumbled back as he was punched in the face, his nose shattering on impact and the blood flowing freely down his lips and chin. The man held his nose, charging at the Viper as the taller man reached down to pick up the knife. The attacker's eyes bulged and he let out a shocked sputtered gasp as the knife jammed into his stomach. The Viper shoved it in further, twisting it and feeling the life drain out of the shivering blonde's attacker before dropping his dead weight to the ground. More scum off his streets at least.
A stressed whimper, a pained sigh caught his ears. The blonde boy laying half-way on his side in the rubble, his eyes half-shut and his lips parting. His arms lay over his abdomen and his jeans lay crumbled up over his nakedness. His legs bruised and bloody, such a pitiful sight.
The Viper took a breath, narrowing his eyes. The boy was dying slowly. He had thought he'd be dead anyway. Even if he didn't want that jerk to get away with such a cowardice act in his alleyway. The boy was a casualty, but he shouldn't care. It was stupid of him to care.
The boy's eyes opened, struggling to focus before making a pitiful attempt to look up at the man who 'saved' him. "Ple..s..." Came the shallow breath and the eyes shut.
The Viper's heart tightened. He saw the blonde still breathing, his chest slowly rising and falling. He was sure there'd be a faint heartbeat if he checked. The boy was shivering and in pain. His face was bruised and cut and he was dirty. The Viper told himself he was just waiting for him to take his last breath and die so he could walk away. It wasn't his mess to clean up. But no one should really die alone. Especially no one as beautiful as this blonde should die like this in a filthy cold alley surrounded by scum. No one should. And sometimes they did. He had seen it all the time and this should be no damn different.
But for some reason it was different. There was something about this boy that captivated him. Called to him and held his attention firm. Those eyes and those strangled screams and whispers would be burned inside his brain for all eternity or more. There was something damning and alluring about this beauty that lay before him even in death and decay ruins, as he lay in filth and blood, worthless and wrecked probably beyond repair. He was damaged and so breath-takingly beautiful.
The Viper swallowed, stepping forward.
The boy writhed, groaning mournfully. "Pl-please.. help.."
He would probably not recover or come back from this, he told himself about the blonde. There was no saving him. The boy would be better off dying. He tried to reason with and tell himself this..
He knew he should pick that knife up and end the blonde's pain and suffering... But he couldn't. It was too tragic. Too captivating. He swore he wouldn't have to get attached. Though he knew that was a damned lie because he was already attached. He swore he'd just nurse him back to health and set him free..
He heard sirens in the distance and looked down at the weak and dying blonde at his feet. That night he'd found a fallen angel. Some light to his dark. He picked up his frail angel and carried him away into the night.
I dunno. It was a good writing exercise.. These chps may be short. I didn't write it w/ the chps in mind so I have to average it out and I dunno how long they'll be. The thoughts of typing it out actually frightens me, lol. I kept that Grand Theft Auto main-protagonist-inspired persona to Randy- as seen in 'Baby Doll's Sex Slave' chp- not really a good or bad guy, more like the anti-hero. I really wanna tell you who the attacker in the alley was now so I can tell you that I swear I wrote this before Randy broke Punk's nose. I think I jinxed it. Sorry, Punkers :P Punk pops up a little more. Adam has flashbacks. The arguing couple, Tommy & Susan, were no one in particular. I just used the first two names to pop into my head. Anything else, blame Randy muse. This was his project.