So he was utterly dismayed and shocked when he heard the name of Clay "The Punisher Cavasso being hailed the winner and Champion of the first annual Smackdown tournament, taking home every dime of the two-million dollar purse. Clay's people rushed into the ring, his family, his wife, screaming ecstatically as the entire arena erupted into noise. Clay himself looked completely confused, his eyes flying to Heath.
He was stunned.
"No way!" Connor was shouting angrily. "No way! I counted the points! No fucking way!" He stared at Heath in disbelief, who could only look dully back at his brother.
"This ain't right!" John shouted, pointing at the judges. "You know this ain't right!"
Heath looked over to where the judges were; all three of them were looking at him, talking behind their hands. Then, simultaneously, they each looked away and got up from their table.
"Hey!" Connor rushed to wall of the cage, shouting at the judges through the wire mesh. "Hey! What the fuck are you doing? You know this is wrong!"
One of the judges stopped in his tracks and glanced coolly back at Connor. The judge glanced around then chuckled before walking off.
"Goddamn it!" John raged.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," Heath muttered. Without waiting for any commentary from his father or his brother, Heath made his way to the entrance of the ring, then turned suddenly. He crossed the ring to where Clay stood, being interviewed by Bryan Callen, still looking utterly confused.
"Good job, man," Heath said quietly to Clay. Clay looked at him, opening his mouth to speak. Whatever he wanted to say never came out as if he thought better of it.
"Thanks," he managed, shaking Heath's hand. "Thank you. Hey—you, um, you put up a hell of a fight."
Heath gave one nod of acknowledgment and walked out of the ring.
What a fucking bust, he thought angrily, then chided himself for being a sore loser. He was just disappointed, he knew. He'd had major plans for that money, but it was nothing that needed to end those plans. They would just be redirected and slightly postponed. It wasn't even so much that he felt like he was invincible—he'd lost before, and he'd taken it like the man he was. But something about this situation didn't sit well with him. It had been a close fight, to be sure, but it hadn't been that close.
The uneasy feeling that grew in his gut intensified, and doubt started to worry at his brain. When he was back in his dressing room, he glanced at his big brother's face in the mirror and saw the expression of confusion and unease on his own face mirrored on Connor's.
"Something about that seem utterly fucked up to you?" Connor finally asked, folding his arms. "I scored all your rounds in my head. Both you guys. And you came out on top, Heath. There's no way that kid won. There's just no way."
Heath shrugged, pulling off his wraps. He didn't feel like talking about. He didn't feel like doing anything right now but going to sleep. He winced as he checked his face out. Besides the cut that didn't seem to be able to stop bleeding, he had a lump on his cheekbone and his lip was slightly split at the corner. His body ached and his neck and shoulders were sore. His ribs hurt like hell and drawing in breaths was painful. He knew he'd need to see the medic and get them taped before he left.
John walked into the room holding a cold bottle of water, and handed it to Heath. He nodded his thanks and drained it quickly, taking the two ibuprofen his father handed him as well. He glanced at Connor again and felt a surge of annoyance at the absently concerned look on Connor's face as he stared at the floor.
"Let it go, Connor," he said impatiently. "Kid won. Apparently fair and square."
"Bullshit," John grumbled. "Fair and square, my ass."
"John, please," Heath muttered. "It is what it is, now." He looked at Connor. "Right?"
His older brother met his eyes, and Heath saw deep suspicion and something else in them, as though a light bulb had just gone off in his head.
"Yeah," Connor said lightly. "It is what it is." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began punching buttons furiously.
"Who are you texting all pissed off like that?" Heath asked absently, wincing as pain tore through his abdomen when he tried to draw a deep breath.
"Uh, just—just Lana," Connor said quickly. Heath's eyes narrowed at his brother. Just then the door flew open and Lana rushed inside.
"That was fast," Heath said coolly, noting the look of near-panic on Connor's face at the sight of his wife.
She looked at him in total confusion. "Huh?"
"Nothing, babe," Connor said quickly. "Listen—we'll get out of your hair. John—you ready to leave after this? Heath—you got your car, right? Can you even drive? John could drive your car while you rest. You want to come over for dinner tonight? Hang out with us, with the girls?"