It didn't take long to convince Buttercup Jones to see the doctor, and it didn't take the doctor long to figure out that, thankfully, Buttercup was neither hurt nor crazy. Apart from the broken nose, all of his injuries were minor and superficial, and for reasons that no one could seem to explain, Buttercup had recovered nicely from his outburst.
"I'm sorry, Shawn, Gus," he told them. "I don't really know what came over me. I think it was this nightmare I had. It really freaked me out."
"You had a nightmare?" asked Shawn with an excited smile. "Dude, this is great! Dreams are like the caverns of the soul. We can use your dream world to help figure out your identity! Tell us everything that happened."
"Okay," Buttercup said, wiping his mouth nervously. "Well, first I was walking down this hall, and there weren't any doors. Then, I got to the end of the hall, only there was this big mirror there. And I could see—I could see how awful I looked and how ugly I am, and—and what a failure I am, and everything. And then—then there was this snake, and it—it was horrible!" Buttercup coughed quickly, trying to cover up the fact that his voice was cracking toward the end of his story, and he blinked to stop the stinging in his blue eyes.
"Wow, that's intense," commented Gus.
"Yeah, it was, and it tells us absolutely nothing except that you have rock-bottom self-esteem and an Indiana Jones-like fear of snakes," said Shawn. Then Shawn glanced over at Gus. "Dude! Seriously? Are you playing a video game while Buttercup was telling us about his nightmare? That's so insensitive!"
Gus frowned as he looked up at Shawn over the screen of his silver Game Boy. "Like you have the right to lecture me about being insensitive, Shawn. Besides, I've been working on this same level for three days, and any minute now, I'm due to beat the Aquamentus."
"Aquamentus?" Buttercup said, quickly and loudly enough to surprise everyone, including himself. Apparently he knew what that was. A vision swam behind his eyes, an image of three gold triangles. "Give me that!"
Without saying a word, Gus passed the device to Buttercup, and immediately Buttercup knew what he was looking at. "I know this game. Oracle of Seasons." Thirty seconds later, the dragon was defeated, and Buttercup passed the little Nintendo back to Gus.
"You beat it already?" Gus said, eyebrows flying up in shock. "Wow, you must really be good!"
"I have no idea how I know what that is, but apparently, even though I don't remember my own name, I know everything about The Legend of Zelda," Buttercup said sheepishly.
Shawn grinned. "Dude, this is awesome! You're like Rain Man, but with video games!"
Thirty minutes and six video games later, Shawn and Gus and Buttercup were startled out of their pixelated haze by the return of the blonde detective, Jules. Buttercup squinted nervously up at her blond-framed face, covering up his face with one hand.
"Shawn," Jules repeated as she put her hands on her hip. "Shawn, are you listening to me?"
"Huh?" came Shawn's answer as he finally looked up from the computer. "Oh, hey, Jules!"
Jules frowned. "Have you seriously been playing video games instead of helping your John Doe uncover his identity?"
"Not John Doe, remember? Buttercup Jones is what we agreed on," said Shawn.
"Well, it doesn't matter now, because unlike you, I've been working and I've figured out who he is."
Buttercup's hand slid away from his face as he sat up straight. "Did you really?"
"Yes," replied Jules. "And Shawn, you're an idiot."
"What? That's so rude!" Shawn pouted.
Jules shook her head. "Shawn, how many times a week do you and Gus watch wrestling?"
Shawn stared at his girlfriend in confusion. "At least two. We have to watch Raw and SmackDown."
"And we watch it more than that if there's a pay-per-view," added Gus.
Jules scoffed as she held up a piece of paper, unfolded it to reveal a photograph, and slid it across the desk in front of them. "Who is that?"
Shawn glanced down at the photo, looking at the dark-haired, blue-eyed man pictured with a serious expression on his youthful face. "Cody Rhodes. Why?"
She rolled her eyes and gestured to Buttercup. "What would Buttercup look like without those scratches and with his nose fixed?"
Shawn squinted, and then suddenly his eyes went wide and he let out a strangely girlish squeal. "Cody Rhodes! Buttercup! That's you! You're Cody Rhodes!”
Gus gasped. "It is him! It's Cody!! I can't believe we missed it!"
"Wait, wait!" protested Buttercup. "Let me see that picture again." He snatched the photo up from the desk and stared at it for a long minute. "That's not me. There's no way this is me. It can't be. I'm not—I'm not Cody. ...Am I?"
"I believe you are," said Jules. "Cody Rhodes went missing 22 hours ago, and he was last seen less than 100 miles from here. Not to mention that there are so many facial similarities. It could easily be you."
"But...this guy could be a supermodel. I don't look that good. I'm—I'm so ugly," said Buttercup. "And there's no way I'm famous. Did you say this guy's a wrestler? I can't be a wrestler. I can't be athletic. I'm a video game nerd. That's got to be a coincidence."
"Maybe you recognize one of these people," said Jules, pulling photo after photo from a case file she was holding. "Ted DiBiase, Jr. Dustin Rhodes. John Cena.
Ted, Dustin, John... Buttercup knew all of those names. Maybe... But no. It was impossible. There was no way. There was just no way.
"Randy Orton." Another photo slapped the desk, and Buttercup felt a sudden chill.
The snake... The green-fanged snake from his nightmare, dragging him down, pulling at him, staring at him with ice-blue eyes... Randy Orton...
The Viper...
The Viper's venom runs deep...
The scars of Legacy...
Buttercup gasped.
Jules paused. "You know him?"
"Yes," Buttercup admitted finally. "I don't know how, but I know all of these people."
"Cody," Jules said softly.
"No!" Buttercup shouted and jumped to his feet. "No, I don't know who you're talking about. I'm not Cody!"
"Yes, you are," said Jules. Her voice was gentle but firm. "There isn't another explanation. I'll have to find a way to contact your next of kin and confirm your identity, but it's got to be you."
Buttercup licked his lips nervously. "But I don't want it to be me," he whispered.
"Why not?" she asked.
Buttercup paused for a moment, mulling over the answer to her question. Why, indeed? It seemed foolish to turn down a perfectly good identity, one that logically had to be his own. She was right, about everything. She had to be. But...no.
"I don't know," he said at last. "But that guy—that guy, Cody Rhodes—Cody... That's not me. I'm not Cody. And somehow, I've got to prove it." He cleared his throat and took a few steps away from everyone. "Is there some way that I could get a paper bag? Just a brown paper bag. I—I don't know why I need one. I just do."
Shawn and Gus both stood up, odd expressions on their faces as they looked at him. Buttercup didn't like it. They made him uncomfortable. They knew something he didn't—or they thought they did.
Shawn shook his head a little bit. "Man, if you really don't remember... Dude, you got your nose smashed in a while back, by Rey Mysterio."
A faint wave of an almost phantom pain lapped at Buttercup's face, and as if of its own accord, his hand lifted up to just barely touch the edge of his shattered nose. Twice-shattered, now? Or more?
"And you came back with some kinda plastic mask," Shawn continued. "They were talking about all this facial reconstruction stuff, but the really weird part was that you were all freaking out because you thought you weren't dashing anymore..." The psychic trailed off for a brief pause before finishing, "...and you liked putting bags on people's heads..."
Buttercup's mind jolted with another memory, unwanted and unbidden.
The Viper was in his clutches...he grabbed the evil snake by the neck, intent on destroying it. They were at a crossroads...it was either him, or the Legend-Killer... Would you like a receipt with your paper bag?
The laughter seeped between his lips so quickly and so softly that at first he didn't realize he was laughing. He only fully became aware of the laughter, and the increasing volume and intensity of his laughing, when he realized that the other three people standing there with him were staring with wide eyes. He didn't care.
All people are inherently bad... They will crush you, they try to destroy... No one is pure, or innocent, or untainted... "Not even you! Not anymore..."
The laughs continued, forcing their way out of his throat, squeezing his larynx, crushing the breaths as they entered and exited his lungs.
Then, with an abrupt and horrifying snap, he came back to his senses. His hands were clammy and his entire body was slicked with a thin sheen of cold sweat. He sucked in a deep breath of air as the awful laughter cut off, and his ocean-sky eyes went wide.
"Oh my gosh..." His breaths came quicker and shallower as he began to comprehend what had just happened. "I'm so sorry... I don't know what happened... Is there still a doctor here? Can I see a doctor? Are we sure I don't have a concussion?"
"Yes, I'm sure," said Jules slowly. "I saw the report myself. You don't have any major head injuries apart from—" She cut herself off.
Buttercup took another deep breath, craving more oxygen. "Apart from the broken nose."
Jules lifted her chin in a tiny nod. "Yes."
"So what you're saying," Buttercup said, "is that it's all in my head. Isn't it?"
Jules said nothing, and nobody else said a word.
*********************
Buttercup was sitting in a plastic chair with his head in his hands, waiting for something to happen—he wasn't sure what—situated somewhere behind Officer Allen's desk when Jules came to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey," she said, her voice soft and low, like she was trying not to make him angry or upset. "I should let you know that I made a few calls, and now there are some people here to see you. I think they can help us verify your identity and figure out what happened to you. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," said Buttercup. He stood up, wiping his hands on the legs of his pants, and followed Jules to one of the conference rooms to meet the people who would finally tell him, once and for all, who and what he was.
As the detective and the amnesiac approached the conference room, the psychic intercepted them.
"Come on, Jules," said Shawn. "Can I pleeaaaasssseee go in there?! Or can you at least tell me who you found to bring in for this? C'mon, Jules, you know Gus and I are huge fans! Don't deprive us of this!"
"I can't," Jules said, her voice stern. "It's a confidentiality issue. I'm sorry." The tone of her voice made Buttercup think that she wasn't sorry at all. That was fine by him. No offense to Shawn or anything, but he thought she could do better.
She led him inside the conference room, the room that had its blinds drawn shut, and tightly closed the door behind her before the psychic and his friend could slip in. Buttercup stared at the two men before him. One was blond and bulky with shorter hair, and the other was brunet and thinner, with long hair. Both men wore business suits, but the brown-haired one wore a cowboy hat.
"Do you recognize these people, Cody?" asked Jules quietly.
Buttercup stared at them for a second, taking in their faces. The one with the cowboy hat had a kind face, and open, like someone you could trust. But he knew straight away that, though he couldn't remember the reason, he definitely didn't like or trust the blond one. "I recognize them, but... I don't know." He shook his head slightly. "If you don't mind, I'd still rather go by something else. I'm not Cody."
The two men looked at him strangely, but it was the blond who spoke first.
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you're Cody. You're one of my best wrestlers."
"Who are you?" Buttercup asked. "How could I possibly be an athlete?"
"Well, you didn't get those muscles overnight," said Cowboy Hat, smiling good-naturedly.
"You must have gotten seriously hit on the head if you don't remember us," said Blondie. "Especially after we beat you and your buddies so many times."
"Come on, Hunter, that was years ago," Cowboy Hat said. "Things have changed." He extended his hand to Buttercup, still smiling. "I'm Shawn Michaels, and this is Hunter Hearst Helmsley. He's your boss. Well, one of them."
"Okay," Buttercup said slowly, shaking Shawn Michaels' hand. "Are you one of my bosses, too?"
"No," said Michaels, chuckling a little. "I don't even work with you anymore. Nowadays, I'm just along for the ride." The smile reappeared, and this time Buttercup smiled back. He could see that in the folds of his white dress shirt, Michaels was wearing a metal cross necklace. That symbol gave him comfort. Michaels was a Christian. Did that comforting feeling mean that Buttercup was a Christian too? He didn't know, couldn't remember for sure. Before he could ask about it, he heard something.
"Is that the Heartbreak Kid in there?" came a wailing from behind the closed and locked door. "Is that HBK in there?!"
Blondie—or rather, Helmsley—glared at Jules. "I thought you said this would be a private meeting."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Helmsley," Jules said, wincing slightly. "It's difficult to keep things constrained in here sometimes, when we have so many people going in and out..."
"Call me Triple H," he said with narrowed eyes. "And maybe you should keep a better eye on who comes and goes around here. I have a lot of experience with private security, and I can tell you right now that enforcing the rules and establishing your authority is key."
As Buttercup looked at Jules from the corner of his eye, he could see that she was trying very hard to keep herself composed, but for the most part she was failing. She nodded. "Thank you, Mr.—I mean, Triple H. I'll keep that in mind."
Triple H nodded. "See that you do." His gaze turned on Buttercup. "Come on, Cody. It's time to get back to work."
"I'm not going with you," said Buttercup, surprising himself with the intensity behind his words. Why was he disagreeing so vehemently? It seemed foolish to turn down the opportunity to step into a life and a job that was being handed to him so freely, to turn down a chance to maybe get his memories back... But at the same time, he just didn't want to do it. He didn't want to go. Whatever life he was going back to...that was Cody's life, not his.
"What?" said Triple H.
"I said I'm not going. I'm sorry, but I just can't. I'm not coming with you."
Triple H's eyes narrowed even more, until they were tiny catlike slits and Buttercup wondered how he could even see. "What do you mean, you're not coming?"
Shawn Michaels stepped forward a little and put a hand on his friend's shoulder to rein him back. "Give him a second, Hunter. He's confused. He doesn't remember us at all. Just give him time to think about it. He'll come around."
"He'd better." Triple H's eyes bored holes into Buttercup.
He didn't like it. He didn't like the lack of choice, he didn't like the evil eyes, and he definitely didn't like the intimidation factor that Triple H was trying to exert. Buttercup tipped his chin upward in defiance, as if to challenge the other man to do something about it, to change his decision by force if he dared.
Triple H's slits met Buttercup's blue eyes for a second before the blond man finally and slowly nodded. "Fine. I'll give you a couple hours. Detective, if you can just keep him here for a while, I'll come back to pick him up once he remembers his place. You have my number. Call me when he's ready." He nodded for his best friend to follow him as he headed for the conference room door.
As Shawn Michaels passed by Buttercup, he gave the younger man a pat on the shoulder. "Good luck getting your memories back, Cody." He paused for just a second. "And listen, Detective O'Hara has my number, too. Feel free to call me if you need anything or if you want to talk. I know Hunter can be intense, but it's only because he wants what's best for the business and everybody in it."
Buttercup nodded and mumbled his thanks, returning the good-natured smile once more as Cowboy Hat followed Blondie out of the room and, he thought, maybe out of his life too. He could hear Shawn and Gus screaming outside the conference room as he followed Jules out. The psychic and his sidekick were being physically restrained by Officers Allen and McNab as they shouted and kicked, trying to run for their heroes.
Buttercup smiled. He hoped that, at some point in the shadowy life he could no longer remember, he had once loved something that much.
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