Chapter One

Too Much Credit

Dave Batista stood in the parking lot with his hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork. He was dressed stylishly, head to toe in black. Minutes before, he had arrived unannounced to SmackDown in a silver rental convertible. Without a word, he had pulled a baseball bat from the backseat of his car and approached John Bradshaw Layfield's white limousine with the longhorns on the front. After a moment's thought, he began to lay waste to the limousine, smashing all the windows out with the bat. When he was done with it, the windows were damaged and the bullhorns on the hood had been ripped off and strewn around the parking lot. He fixed himself up as best he could, using the undamaged side mirror to fix his hair.

That's when he heard her feminine giggle.

He turned around and saw her standing several feet away with her arms crossed over her chest. She was short, around five-foot-four. She was curvy, with an hourglass figure. Her hair was long and wavy, a beautiful caramel color that complimented her peaches and cream complexion. Her eyes were big and brown, framed by long, blue-black lashes. She was dressed in an emerald green flowing tank top with a gemstone centerpiece on the bust and black bell-bottomed pants. Open-toed heeled sandals and diamond earrings completed the look. He didn't recognize her, but he was pretty sure she was a new Diva.

"Oh, man," she laughed. "Cena was telling me you did a number on Bradshaw's limousine, but...wow. I guess it's true what they say about you; you really do know how to make an impact." She stepped forward and extended her right hand for him to shake. "Cassie Wallace."

"I'm..."

"Dave Batista, 2005 Royal Rumble winner. You're probably the hottest free agent in WWE right now." He nodded, impressed that she knew his stats. Most of the new girls didn't know how to chew gum and walk at the same time. She stood beside him, surveying the car. "So, this is what happens when people try to run you over on Raw," she observed. Dave nodded, feeling a slight rush of embarrassment washing over him. He hadn't meant to lose his head, but he had almost been run over. He stared down at her. There was a look on her face. He could sense some hesitation.

"What?"

"I hate to be the one to break this to you, Mr. Batista, but I think you're giving JBL way too much credit here."

"What, are you actually trying to defend him? Are you saying JBL didn't try to run me down on Monday night?" he demanded. She could sense him becoming impatient and angry with her. He sensed her shrinking under his hot gaze.

"Can I ask you exactly why you think JBL did it?" she asked. "Did you see him do it, or is it just because you saw a white limousine with bullhorns on the hood?" He didn't have to answer her. She knew everything she needed to know just by the irritated look in his brown eyes. "Look, Dave, I've been with SmackDown a short time, and Kurt, Cena and I have talked about this. JBL does not have the guts to pull off something like attempted vehicular manslaughter. Trust me. We work with him. He's a coward."

"He's been running his mouth about me," Dave informed her. She laughed.

"Running your mouth and acting out on it are two completely different things," she argued. "I heard you used to be a bouncer, so I know you know this is true."

He stroked his chin. "So, you're saying he was set up. By who, then?"

"Think of the limousine."

"You saying it was somebody in his stupid Cabinet?" She scoffed.

"Orlando and company are small-time. You're assuming that they actually used Bradshaw's limo."

"Are you saying one was made?"

"Well, the white limousine is easy enough to find. The longhorns might be tough, but it's not impossible to find them."

"So who would have access to that kind of power?"

"I don't know. For that, I think you might have to look into your own camp."

"You mean, somebody from Raw?" he asked her, surprised. From the look on her face, Dave assumed that she knew something, but had said too much.

"I should go. Good luck with making your decision," she told him.

"Wait -" he called out to her, but she was already gone, disappearing back into the arena. Dave sighed, then retreated to his car. He knew the cabinet was on their way. He needed to get out of there.

"Cassie, you didn't."

"I just told him what we discussed. He can take it for what it's worth."

Cassie was standing backstage, sipping from a cup of coffee. John Cena stood beside her, drinking from a water bottle. He was incredulous that Cassie would go outside and approach "The Animal" while he was laying waste to JBL's car. "You really don't think JBL is behind it?" he asked.

"Oh, come on, John. You and I both know that Bradshaw is the biggest chickenshit," she told him. She paused and then John noticed her eyes light up. "Let me put this question to you: if you were JBL, would you want Batista to come over here and challenge you for your title in a triple threat match at WrestleMania?"

"Hello no," John replied without a moment's hesitation. "With each person added to the equation, the chances of walking out with a championship diminishes."

"Exactly! So why would JBL try and bait Batista to come here so he can have a thirty-three and a third percent chance of walking out of WrestleMania with his championship? This is a guy that's survived Last Ride matches, Barbed Wire Steel cages and Fatal Four Way matches?" John nodded at the logic. "Now, if you were Triple H, would you want to take on your hand-picked enforcer?"

"Batista would lay down for Hunter," he replied. Cassie shot him a look, and he instantly retracted his statement. "Okay, you're right. He wouldn't."

"Exactly."

"So you really think Hunter's behind this? That he's trying to push Dave here?"

"After all these years, Triple H definitely has that kind of power. Look who he's married to. Anyway, to get rid of a threat to his title, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd try driving Dave to Timbuktu."

Dave was driving back to the hotel, the cold Pittsburgh air aiding in keeping him awake behind the wheel. He tried to turn on the radio, but was greeted with some sappy country song. He kept fiddling around with the radio dial until the soothing melody of Linkin Park's "Numb" filled the car.

He thought Cassie was cute. Her words had fascinated him. Look into your own camp. Who would want him gone, though?

He knew Randy Orton had nothing to gain with him out of the picture. Now that Dave had won the Royal Rumble, he was the true number one contender, and Randy was out of the title picture. Edge was crazy, but he knew Edge was going to wait to do anything until Dave had made his decision. He had a sneaking suspicion that Triple H would be so underhanded; after all, he knew Hunter would have sold his firstborn to keep the championship in his hands. Shawn Michaels laid down in the ring for Hunter so he could capture the European Championship one time, but Hunter wasn't the type to do something like that, and neither was Dave. Dave wanted the World Heavyweight Championship, to be the best. With Ric and Hunter questioning his loyalty to Evolution, Dave was already beginning to think ahead, what his future held in WWE.

This whole situation was Eric Bischoff's fault, for sticking him in the Elimination Chamber back at January's New Year's Revolution in Puerto Rico. Dave remembered how Hunter had the opportunity to help him, to save him from being eliminated by Randy Orton, but hadn't.

With a deep sigh, Dave turned his car into the parking lot of his hotel. He didn't think he was going to sleep a wink.