Sanctuary

Chapter Twenty Two - Conflict

Conflict noun

1). A serious disagreement or argument.

"I really hate to have to break this to everyone," Dean angrily scratched at the back of his head. "But last night was not the first time that we've got our asses kicked and I'm pretty sure that it won't ever be the last."

My eyes followed him as he was pacing back and forth across the ring, tightly clenching his microphone.

"Paul Heyman, being the evil little self proclaimed genius he is, set up a very calculated agenda for us. He's put myself and the team is a very compromising position, he tried to get in our heads. Tried. See, because, we're not his clients that fall for any persuasive bull that he pulls out of his porky ass, we are strong minded, we are bonded together like the strongest adhesive, and we will not tear apart over something as simple as the chance to become a champion. Because everybody knows, a real champion is not defined by a belt." He growled, making the crowd cheer. "A real champion is the one who keeps getting back up when they're held down and that's the thing about The Shield. We don't lie down and take it. We won't just accept this. And against doctor's ordered assigned to the four of us, we showed up tonight looking for a fight and we want one."

He stopped pacing at the side facing the ramp and glared at it. "So, we really don't care who it is. Send out The Wyatts, The Rhodes brothers, The Ascension, hell, bring on the entire main roster for all we care! Just. Give. Us. Something." He threw the mic down, allowing it to bounce and land at the tip of my boots.

I very much shared the same mentality. My hands were just itching to punch some faces and my feet were aching to stomp a mud hole in someone. So were Rollins and Reigns who were beginning to do pacing of their own.

"Come on!" Seth urged, "Anybody, just come on!"

I stared at the stage expectantly but instead got a surprise of a slow clap ringing out, we all looked up at the titantron to see CM Punk being the cause.

The crowd started booing at the sight of him. The background obviously being his apartment and if that wasn't enough, him wearing a black silk bathrobe was a dead give away.

"That was an amazing little speech, Dean. Didn't know you had it in you, I was almost impressed. " He chuckled, letting his hands fall. "You actually almost for a second convinced me that you really don't care about that match. That it doesn't bother you that you'll all be trying to rip each other apart for the chance to face me."

Ambrose smirked, beginning his pacing yet again.

"You know more than anyone standing in there, that you want this match, badly. Well on the second thought - I think Blake might want to claw my face off more than you," He said as Valientina came into view and sat on his lap in her matching robe. "Hell, Blake might want to fight me more than she wants to fight my Valentine,"

I glared at him, feeling myself wanting to say something in response but he kept going.

"Or hey, maybe the one who wants me more is Rollins. Maybe he wants to prove he's not a useless flying squirrel. Maybe it's Reigns. Maybe he wants to attempt to live up to his last name. Who knows? I don't, that's between you four. But honestly I don't care. However I assume whoever it is, won't stop until they get what they want." He grinned. "Now you four have gone out of your way trying to prove yourselves. You're all ruthless, yeah. You're all dominant, sure. But that's only beneficial when you're together."

He reached out to a table where he had something underneath a black cloth, Valientina pulled it back to reveal a small statue of a German Shepard, with HOJ carved into the side.