New Mutiny

Chapter 11

Everything was so familiar and yet so strange. Seth had spent countless hours at the Performance Center, whether he was honing his own skills or helping someone else with theirs. As he looked around on his way to Hunter's office, there were hardly any faces he didn't recognize, from refs to trainers to wrestlers. In some ways, the compound was a third home: he knew where the best cafes in the vicinity were, the best restaurants, the quickest shortcuts. But now that Becky wasn't at his side, he felt an odd chill. Bayley and Sasha were her close friends, members of the fabled Four Horsewomen—and he counted them among his friends and training partners as well. Something about the situation wasn't sitting right with him, though. Maybe I shouldn't have brought her, he thought as he knocked on Hunter's door. He had invited her, after all; she hadn't offered or insisted. She probably would have been quite happy to stay back at Roman's house with Joelle or even just sleep in.

"Rollins?"

Seth was expecting Hunter to say something like Yeah or Come in, so it took him a moment to respond. "Uh, yeah. It's me," he answered, resting his hand on the doorknob but not quite turning it.

"Come in." As Seth stepped inside, Hunter held up a hushing finger to his lips. "Yeah. He's here." The slightest frown twisted his lips. "It shouldn't take long. Give me ten minutes and I'll get back to you."

Seth waited until Hunter disconnected to pull out a chair and sit. "Ten minutes? Sounds like it's pretty open and shut, then." He was aiming for a casual, confident tone and if he hadn't been talking to the Cerebral Assassin himself, he probably would have sold it perfectly.

Hunter looked vaguely suspicious, as always. "Hey, Rollins. Long time, no see. Everything good back in Iowa?"

"Yeah. House is fine, pets are being taken care of...." Seth leaned back in his chair, feeling like a cat trapped in a room just waiting for the door to open a fraction so he could dart away. "I forgot to print out a copy of my contract," he added, "but you must have one you want me to sign." Over the last few days, Hunter had sent a few copies to him, all with minor changes—minor enough that Seth didn't understand why a trans-Atlantic flight was required.

Hunter made a settle down motion with his hands. "Relax, Rollins. There's no rush. At least not on my end. We've invested heavily in you and we hope to have you with us for years to come."

Once upon a time, that had been Seth's dream, one he thought might be destroyed by his werewolf nature. He had grown up watching WWE, collecting the toys and the magazines and dressing up as his favourite wrestlers for Halloween. Making it here had been a dream and a goal; reaching the heights he had was almost unimaginable, even for him. Countless titles and firsts, joining The Authority, even getting the chance to head a faction in the Disciples, even though the venture had failed: all of those were honours very few wrestlers were ever given, and he was still comparatively young. Some were already comparing him to Triple H himself, and considering that Hunter was now only mere steps away from the ultimate seat of power, that was heady praise indeed. "Of course. I'm not looking to wrestle anywhere else. You know WWE's always been my endgame."

"That's what I thought." Hunter leaned back and sipped at his coffee, drawing attention to the fact that he hadn't offered Seth anything. "But then I heard that Finn's pack might be splitting. Now, Balor's a cagey bastard, and there's not many people he would trust to branch off from his pack. It's a short list, and Becky's name is the only one on it. So when I also heard that a certain flame-haired werewolf has been popping in quite often at NXT UK headquarters, you can understand why I'm concerned. I told you when I sent you after Rhea. I'm sick of training wrestlers and making stars and then the second they get delusions of grandeur, their own the door and using the notoriety we built for them to make bank elsewhere."