#darkstate

Pair: Roman Reigns X Sol Ruca

Plot: In a world where old wounds never heal and old enemies never sleep, Roman Reigns is forced to confront the past he tried to bury. As new threats rise and forgotten shadows return, alliances will be tested, loyalties will fracture, and the truth will claw its way to the surface. Some ghosts whisper. Some ghosts haunt. And some refuse to stay buried.

okay so… yeah. this chapter dragged me straight to hell. everyone is lying, everyone is breaking, and sol’s ghost is basically screaming in the background at this point.

Everything is not as it seems.

song of the chapter: The Night We Met because the grief is LOUD.

chapter three is gonna hurt. that’s all i’m saying. ⚠️👀🖤🤍

The van idled at the end of Roman’s street, engine low, lights off, windows tinted so dark the night swallowed them whole. Inside, the air was thick — not with fear, but with anticipation.

Punk sat in the back, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His silence was enough to keep the entire van still.

Deon checked the small black device in his hand — no bigger than a coin, matte, unassuming, deadly in the right hands.

Cutler leaned against the door, chewing gum like he was bored, but his eyes were sharp, alert.

Sequann tugged the reflective construction vest over his hoodie, adjusting the hard hat Punk had tossed him earlier. He didn’t ask questions. He never did. He just followed orders.

Osiris sat in the far corner, hood up, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He kept his eyes on the floor, because if he looked up — if he looked at the house down the street — he knew something inside him would crack.

Punk finally spoke.

“Thread one.”

The van went silent.

Deon straightened. Cutler smirked. Sequann nodded once.

Osiris swallowed hard.

Punk’s voice was calm, almost gentle — the kind of tone that made everything he said sound inevitable.

“Sequann, you’re up. Roadblock. Make it look routine.”

Sequann grabbed the orange cones and stepped out of the van without hesitation.

Punk turned to Deon.

“You know where it goes.”

Deon tapped the listening device against his palm. “Won’t take me more than thirty seconds.”

Punk’s eyes flicked to Osiris — just for a moment.

“You stay with me.”

Osiris nodded, keeping his face blank.

He couldn’t let anything slip.

Not here.

Not now.

Cutler pushed the van door open and stepped out, stretching like he was just out for a walk. He positioned himself across the street, leaning against a lamppost, watching the house with a predator’s patience.

Sequann moved like he’d done this a hundred times — cones placed, fake signage set up, clipboard in hand. Anyone driving by would think it was just a late‑night utility check.

Inside the house, a light flicked on.

Gelina.

Home alone.

Osiris’s stomach twisted.

Deon slipped out of the van, moving low, fast, silent. He circled around the side of the house, disappearing into the shadows like he’d been born there.

Punk watched it all with a small, satisfied smile.

“See?” he murmured. “Simple. Quiet. Clean.”

Osiris didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because he knew exactly what that device would do.

He knew exactly what Punk was starting.

He knew exactly who this would hurt.

And he couldn’t stop it.

Not without blowing everything.

Not without putting Roman — and himself — in even more danger.

A soft click sounded in Osiris’s earpiece.

Deon’s voice whispered through.

“Device planted.”

Punk leaned back, exhaling like he’d just finished a good meal.

“Thread one pulled.”

Sequann began packing up the cones.

Cutler pushed off the lamppost.

Deon slipped back into the shadows, returning to the van.

Osiris kept his eyes on the house.

On the window where Gelina moved through the kitchen, unaware.

On the life Roman had built — the life Punk was about to unravel piece by piece.

Punk tapped Osiris’s shoulder lightly.

“Relax,” he said. “This is just the beginning.”

Osiris didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t trust himself to speak.

Because Punk was right.

This was only the beginning.

And Roman Reigns had no idea his world had already started to fall apart.

The morning sunlight spilled across the living room as Gelina folded laundry on the couch, stacking shirts into neat piles. The house was quiet — unusually quiet — the kind of stillness that made her glance over her shoulder every few minutes.

The dryer rumbled steadily in the hallway, warm air drifting out each time she passed by. She had another load inside, almost finished.

She carried a stack of towels toward the laundry room—

Beep.

She stopped mid‑step.

The dryer was still running.

She frowned, leaning closer. Another beep, softer this time, like something electronic… but not from the machine.

Her stomach tightened.

She looked around the laundry room — nothing blinking, nothing flashing, nothing out of place. The dryer hummed on, steady and normal.

But the beep wasn’t.

She backed out slowly, heart picking up speed.

And then she remembered.

The construction worker.

He’d been outside earlier — reflective vest, cones in the street, clipboard in hand. He didn’t say much. Didn’t even look at her when she waved. He was there… and then gone.

Too fast.

Too quiet.

Too strange.

A chill crawled up her spine.

She grabbed her phone with trembling fingers and hit Roman’s name without thinking.

He answered on the second ring

Roman was still at Jey’s place, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched. The morning had been calm — calmer than the night before — and Jey had been doing everything he could to keep him grounded.

His phone buzzed.

Gelina.

He answered instantly.

“Hey, baby. You okay?”

Her voice was thin, shaky.

“Roman… can you come home?”

He sat up straighter, pulse spiking.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I heard something. A beep. But the dryer’s still running and… I don’t know, it just felt wrong.”

Roman was already standing.

“Did anything else happen?”

She hesitated.

“There was a construction worker outside this morning. He didn’t stay long. I didn’t think anything of it, but now… I don’t know. Something feels off.”

Roman didn’t wait for more.

“I’m coming home right now.”

He hung up and grabbed his keys.

Jey stepped into the doorway, reading everything in Roman’s face.

“You good?”

Roman shook his head once. “Gelina needs me.”

Jey squeezed his shoulder.

“Keep your head up, Uce. Call me if you need anything.”

Roman nodded, but his mind was already racing.

The morning sun felt too bright.

The street felt too empty.

His instincts were screaming again — that same pressure in his chest, that same sense of something shifting around him.

He tried to tell himself it was just the nightmare lingering.

Just exhaustion.

Just nerves.

But deep down?

He knew better.

Gelina opened the door before he even reached it, relief flooding her face the moment she saw him.

He pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

She swallowed hard.

“I know it sounds stupid,” she said softly. “But something felt wrong. The beep… the construction guy… I just— I didn’t like it.”

Roman stepped inside, scanning the house with sharp eyes.

Nothing looked disturbed.

Nothing looked out of place.

But the air felt… different.

He wrapped an arm around her, grounding her.

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “You did the right thing calling me.”

But inside?

Inside he felt it again.

That shift.

That warning.

That invisible thread being pulled.

And he didn’t know why.

Not yet.

Jon sat in his truck across the street from Roman’s house, engine off, hands resting on the steering wheel. The morning sun was bright, but the air felt heavy — like the world was holding its breath.

Roman had gone inside minutes ago.

Gelina hovered close to him, still shaken.

The house looked calm from the outside.

But Jon knew better.

Calm was always the first lie.

He kept his eyes on the front door, watching for any sign of movement. Any sign of danger. Any sign that Darkstate had doubled back.

His phone buzzed once.

A single vibration.

The signal.

Jon answered quietly.

“You watching them?”

A woman’s voice came through the line — low, steady, and sharp as a blade.

“Yeah,” she said. “They’re at the hideout. Loud. Drunk. Gloating. They think they pulled off something big.”

Jon’s jaw tightened.

“They plant something?”

“Yeah,” she said again. “And they’re real proud of it.”

Jon exhaled slowly, eyes still locked on Roman’s house.

“And the kid?” he asked.

A pause.

Then her voice softened — just a fraction.

“He’s there. But he’s not celebrating. He’s sitting alone. Looks… wrong.”

Jon didn’t let the emotion show.

Not in his voice.

Not in his breathing.

Not in anything.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Keep eyes on them. Let me know if they move.”

“Already on it.”

Jon hesitated — just for a second — then said quietly:

“Zaria… thank you.”

On the other end, Zaria took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried more weight than anything she’d said yet.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I’m doing it for Sol.”

Jon closed his eyes.

Just for a moment.

Then he hung up.

And the war kept moving.

The house was finally quiet.

Gelina had fallen asleep curled against Roman’s chest, exhaustion pulling her under the moment he whispered that everything was okay. He waited until her breathing evened out, until her fingers loosened around his shirt, until he was sure she wouldn’t wake.

Then he gently slid out from under her, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders.

He stood there for a moment, watching her sleep.

She looked peaceful.

He didn’t.

Roman stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. The hallway felt colder than it should’ve. The air felt heavier. Every shadow felt like it was watching him.

He checked the dryer again.

Still running.

Still normal.

Still wrong.

His jaw clenched.

He grabbed his phone off the counter and walked out the back door, letting it click shut behind him. The morning air hit him hard — cool, sharp, grounding. He sucked in a breath and walked to the far end of the porch, out of sight of the windows.

His hands were shaking.

He didn’t even try to hide it.

He hit Jey’s name.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

“Yo,” Jey answered, voice low and alert. “Uce? You good?”

Roman didn’t speak at first.

He couldn’t.

His throat felt tight, like the words were fighting their way out.

Finally, he exhaled.

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not.”

Jey’s tone shifted instantly.

“What happened?”

Roman ran a hand over his face, pacing the porch.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered. “I don’t know what it is, but… something’s in my house, Jey.”

Jey went silent.

Roman kept going, voice rising with every word.

“Gelina heard a beep. The dryer was running. There was some construction worker outside this morning. I checked everything — EVERYTHING — and it all looks normal but it doesn’t feel normal.”

He stopped pacing.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Jey… I think someone’s watching me.”

Jey inhaled sharply.

“Uce—”

Roman cut him off.

“No. Listen to me. I’m not imagining this. I’m not panicking. I’m not seeing things. Something is wrong. I can feel it.”

His voice cracked — not from fear, but from anger.

“Who the hell is after me?”

Jey didn’t answer right away.

Roman could hear him breathing, could hear him thinking, could hear the weight settling in his silence.

Finally, Jey spoke — quiet, steady, but shaken.

“I don’t know, Uce… but we’re gonna find out.”

Roman closed his eyes, gripping the railing until his knuckles went white.

He didn’t know that Darkstate was already celebrating.

He didn’t know Punk was already planning the next thread.

He didn’t know Jon was watching his house.

He didn’t know Zaria was watching the men who planted the device.

He didn’t know the storm had already begun.

All he knew was this:

Something was coming.

And he wasn’t ready.

The house felt too quiet after Gelina left for work.

Roman watched her taillights disappear down the street, then locked the door and exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. The silence pressed against him like a weight.

He grabbed his phone.

“Jey,” he said when the call connected. “I need you to come back.”

Jey didn’t ask why.

He just said, “I’m on my way.”

Jey arrived with his hood up, eyes sharp, shoulders tense. He stepped inside and immediately felt it — the wrongness, the heaviness, the sense that something unseen was sitting in the corners.

Roman didn’t waste time.

“I’m telling you, Uce… something’s in here.”

They moved through the house with flashlights, checking vents, closets, behind furniture. Roman’s hands shook every time he opened a door. Jey kept glancing at him, worry etched deep.

“You think someone actually came inside?” Jey asked quietly.

Roman swallowed hard.

“I don’t know. But Gelina heard something. And that construction guy this morning—”

Jey stopped him gently.

“Say it.”

Roman hesitated.

Then he whispered it.

“Sol.”

Jey’s chest tightened.

Roman kept going, voice cracking.

“Ever since she died… I feel like something’s unfinished. Like someone’s still out there. Like she’s trying to tell me something.”

Jey put a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not crazy, Uce.”

Roman looked at him, eyes haunted.

“Then who the hell is after me?”

Across town, Punk lay in bed, headphones on, eyes half‑closed as he listened to every word.

Roman’s fear. Jey’s concern. The mention of Sol. The confusion. The desperation.

He smirked.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

Beside him, AJ lay on her side, eyes closed, breathing slow and even — pretending to sleep.

But she wasn’t asleep.

Not even close.

She heard everything.

Every tremor in Roman’s voice.

Every crack in Jey’s.

Every mention of Sol.

Her fingers curled into the blanket.

Her heart hammered.

And when Punk whispered, “He’s breaking already,” something inside her twisted.

She kept her breathing steady.

Kept her eyes closed.

Waited.

Waited until Punk’s breaths deepened.

Waited until his hand slipped off the headphones.

Waited until he finally, fully fell asleep.

Then she slid out of bed silently.

The hallway was dim, lit only by a flickering bulb. AJ moved quietly, pulling her jacket around her shoulders.

She passed the room where Darkstate slept — Deon sprawled on a mattress, Cutler snoring, Sequann dead asleep on the floor.

She didn’t stop.

She didn’t look in.

She just kept walking.

She pushed open the back door and stepped into the night.

The night air was cold against AJ’s skin as she stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind her. She took a breath — shaky, uneven — and rubbed her arms.

She wasn’t alone.

A figure stood near the side of the building, half‑hidden in shadow.

Osiris.

He stiffened when he saw her, eyes wide, breath catching like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“AJ?” he whispered.

She stepped toward him slowly.

“You okay?”

He shook his head instantly.

“No. No, I’m not— I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

AJ’s heart clenched.

She reached out, placing a hand on his arm.

“You have to,” she whispered. “Just a little longer.”

Osiris’s face crumpled.

“Why did he do it to her?” he choked out. “Why did he do that to Sol? Why?”

AJ didn’t think.

She just pulled him into her arms.

He collapsed against her, shaking, burying his face in her shoulder like he was trying to disappear.

AJ held him tight.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

Osiris stiffened.

“You can’t—” his voice cracked. “You can’t call me that. He doesn’t know.”

AJ closed her eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

From the shadows near the treeline, Jon watched them.

AJ holding Osiris.

Osiris breaking.

AJ whispering to him like she’d been waiting years to say those words.

Jon stepped forward just enough for his voice to carry.

“Don’t worry, sweet AJ,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “I’m working on it.”

AJ’s head snapped up.

Osiris froze.

Jon stayed in the shadows.

Watching.

Waiting.

Planning.

The war was no longer coming.

It was already here.

To Be Continued

TAGLIST

YOU IDIOTS BETTER LEAVE BABYGIRL JOE ALONE!!!!

I'm diggin' Izzi's blood gear. Feels very Halloween Havoc. Also looks very familiar. Has someone else worn that gear? Was it her?

Brooker T is pretty much saying "giggity giggity" at this point when Lola uses that hip attack lol.

Tony D'Angelo's new theme sounds like so many other wrestling themes. I know his old theme obviously wouldn't make sense, but I'm gonna miss the "IT'S ALL ABOUT FAMILY" Sal's Pizzeria soundin' music.

Tony, you might need a new family if you're planning to take out DarkState, who famously never do anything on their own (except Dion sometimes).

ZARIA! STOP BEING MEAN TO SOL! YOU BOUT TO BREAK UP A HAPPY HOME!

I am heartbroken after that ZaRuca match.

Booker T singing Joe Hendry's theme song brings me joy every time.

Uh, did Keanu Carver rip a LADDER in half???

Shiloh Hill is a fun character (love the spot he did using the ripped ladder as stilts), but man, I hope they stop doing so much stuff with his teeth.

Getting a ladder match like this on a regular NXT episode on a random Tuesday is such a treat. There are main roster PLE matches that don't touch this.

Keanu woke up from that nap under the ladders and went on a killing spree. This man gotta see Oba Femi in the ring one day.