After plowing our way through nearly everything on the breakfast menu, we leave the little restaurant (practically in shambles) and head back towards the elevator.
“So, I guess you’re feeling better today,” Benoit comments and I notice a shadow of a smirk.
“Amazingly enough, yes, although I’m pretty worried about next Sunday, though. Of course, considering the last few shows I’ve had and haven’t had, I have to show up this week. I just wish I could say I won’t get beaten down again before the pay per view,” I tell him.
He presses the button for the elevator. “Good to know you’re finally wary of your situation.”
“I just never thought Paul would take me so seriously. I mean, I know he and Stephanie are dating for real, but everything I’m doing is in character… it just happens to be my face character,” I say. The elevator doors open and we get in. “And Vince, too. Stephanie must have gone crying to daddy or something because she didn’t get her way.”
Benoit folds his arms over his chest. “For your sake, I hope that the fact that you’ve been away from them the last few days will help ease their vengeful minds.”
“All I know for sure is that they’ve got atleast one more thing in store for me and it involves WrestleMania and my Undisputed Title.” I pause. “You know, those Tag Titles are looking better everyday.”
“Face it, you had a good run an champ. Granted, you were a heel for most of it, but you *had* it. Besides, things will become alot calmer once you lose that title. I say give that match your best, make it worth-while for the fans, but make sure Paul walks away with that title,” he says.
I give him an odd glare. “Since when did you get so long-winded?”
“Hanging around you too much,” he replies. The elevator stops and we get off.
“I don’t really think I deserved that shot,” I tell him.
“You may not have deserved it, but you still got it,” Benoit says, matter-of-factly.
We turn the corner and nearly run into Amy, who looks rather disheveled. “Dammit, Chris, you had me worried!”
I shrug. “Sorry, Red, but I was hungry and ran into the Woverine, here, and, well, I think you know the rest.”
“I still oughtta pound you into the ground for scaring me like that!” Amy says.
“Awe, I didn’t know ya cared!” I quip, immediately hugging her, noticing the Hardyz coming down the hall.
“Geez, Ame, we could hear you down the other end of the hall,” Matt comments, sligging his arm around her once I detach myself from her.
“Should’ve known you ran into these two, though,” Jeff says, then adds, “Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital still, Chris?”
“I snuck out, I couldn’t stand being there. Too many sick people,” I say, making a bit of a face.
“So I guess the reserved rubber room is out of the question, then?” Amy says.
I fold my arms over my chest and pout. “Very funny.”
“Oh, please, a rubber room is too *good* for him!” We all turn and spot the owner of that piercing voice: Stephanie. “This isn’t a town square, even though you do seem to be the Town Crier, Irvine.”
“That hurt me deep, Steph. Ouch,” I say, sarcastically. “By the way, where’s your bodyguard?”
“I told him to stay in the gym and wait until WrestleMania to beat the crap out of you,” Stephanie says.
“Well, then, he’d better be careful with all that pent up aggression,” I say, then wink at her.
She lets out a loud, frustrated sigh and stomps away.
“That went rather well,” Jeff comments.
“I thought so,” I agree.
“What are we gonna do with you?” Amy ask, as we head back to our rooms.
That afternoon, we’re in the training ring… and I land on my butt once again. “Come on, Benoit, ease up a little!” I stand up.
“Your timing is off. I’m only trying to help,” he says.
“You know, I should be the one helping you,” I say, “not vice versa.”
“But you’ve been out of it the last few days, Chris,” Amy points out.
I wave her off. “Whatever.”
“Why don’t you two team up and spar with me and Jeff,” Matt suggests.
“Yeah, you guys keep talking about going for the tag belts, and there’s some pretty good competition from Tazz and Spike,” Jeff adds, then wiggles his brow.
I nearly laugh. “Yeah, but I’d rather pound on ol’ Horseface and Booger Tea,” I say, smirking.
“We’re talking about competition, Irvine, not a couple of push-overs,” Benoit says.
“I’ll tell them you said that.” We turn and find that Paul had snuck in while we weren’t paying attention.
I smile. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the ol’ Big Schnoz himself.” I leave the ring and walk right up to him. “Don’t seem so tough now without the Dudley Boyz backing you up.”
“This isn’t my fault, Irvine. You brought this on yourself. *You* were the one who wouldn’t give your new angle a chance. *You* were the one who took liberties on the script. *You* were the one who made it personal. Your actions told me that you think Steph isn’t good enough to be around you…” Paul says.
But I interrupt, “Wait, whoa, hold on, and back the train up! Just because I didn’t agree with being partnered with Stephanie doesn’t mean that I, personally, have anything against her. The problem is, I was thinking of my past character that had spent atleast a good year humiliating her. I just couldn’t see partnering with her as being realistic, no matter how much of a heel I was. *That’s* why I did what I did.”
“I guess I can’t argue with that. I’ll tell you one more thing, though, at WrestleMania, Irvine, your Undisputed Title is mine,” Paul says.
“Yeah?” I prod. “Well, guess what? You can *have* it!”
Paul gives me his famous ‘I’m pissed off’ look and finally leaves.
“Wow,” Amy comments.
The guys applaud. I turn and look at them. “See, I’m in control.” I grin and we go back to sparring.
Our little tag match goes… kinda well. I mean, it’s going just great until I forget about my concussion and attempt the Lionsault. Instead of doing the backflip, I land on my back… hard… knocking the wind out of myself. I groan, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.
Jeff sits up from where he was lying in wait and scoots over to me. “You okay?”
I look up at him, slightly dazed and irritated. “I’m fine, Skittles. I always mess up my own finisher.” Sarcasm, thy friend.
Jeff just shakes his head as the others gather around.
“Too soon,” Benoit comments.
“Maybe you should get more rest, Chris,” Amy says.
I’m starting to really despise that word. I sigh. “I just want to get back to being me again,” I say, the sadness caused by defeat evident in my voice.
“You still have the whole weekend. Besides, who says you have to show up for Raw? You can just make an appearance on SmackDown and rest up for next Sunday,” Jeff offers.
Finally, I sit up. “That’s not a bad idea.” Jeff looks rather proud of himself, earning a glare from Matt. “But I’d still like to keep training. I can’t go into WrestleMania after being shelved for two weeks and expect to put on a good match.”
“The guys will go easier on you,” Amy says, then scans over them. “Won’t you?” They all nod their agreement. “See.”
“You guys are too much,” I say, bemused.
That night, I’m sitting in my hotel room… with an ice pack on my head and a heating pack on my back. I glance over at Amy, who gives me a guilty look.
She shrugs. “I thought I was taking it easy with you.”
“A hurricanrana is *not* taking it easy, Red,” I say, then wince remembering the moment of contact between my body and the canvas, hence the heating pad. “And here I thought of all of you, you’d be the least likely to hurt me the most. Boy, was I wrong.”
“Stop it with the guilt trip! I’ve been apologizing all evening,” Amy says, sounding rather irritated.
“Alright, I’ll stop,” I say, then sigh. “I’m just worried about being well enough to *make it* to WrestleMania. I know I’m losing the title then, but I’d like to give the fans one helluva match.”
She smiles. “And that’s admirable. You really have a good attitude about all of this, it’s just too bad that you’re so damn stubborn.”
“Here we go again,” I interrupt.
She glares at me, then laughs. “Maybe if I tell you that enough times, you’ll remember and try to be a little more lenient.”
I smile. “Fine. I’ll rest, but I’m still gonna atleast workout and keep from getting rusty.”
Amy stands and heads for the door. “You could be away for six months and not be rusty. Now, just relax and get some real sleep before I call your parents and tell on you.”
I give her a fake look of horror. “No! No, anything but that!”
She laughs. “See ya tomorrow.” She goes out the door.
“’Night,” I call out as she closes the door. I sigh. What would I do without Amy and the others? …Well, alot of things, probably.
Monday afternoon. We’re all in the training ring again… well, almost all of us. Adam and Benoit are sparring with the Hardyz and I’m leaning on the apron, outside, wondering if I’ll get a turn with them or if I’ll get my ass kicked by Amy again. My reverie is broken by someone--who apparently wants their finger broken--tapping on my shoulder. I turn… and immediately I have a headache. “Hi, Kurt.” I give him a fake grin.
“I hear you’re going to hand over the belt to Paul,” he says.
My brow lowers in confusion.. “I’m gonna what?”
He cringes upon hearing ‘what’. “That’s the buzz going around, that you’re not even going to fight Paul, that you’ll just hand him the belt.”
And now you know why I was glad he wasn’t the one sent to get me when everything began going downhill for me. I give him a patented Y2J smirk. “Well, Kirk, you can go back and tell the others…” I pause, “what?” I smile. “That I *will* be fighting Paul… what? And I’m not just going to hand over the belt… what?” I pause. “Oh, and if you e-e-ever tell me anything like that again, you will be on the receiving end of an official, unscripted, Y2J ass-kicking that you’ll never e-e-ever forget, Junior!”
Kurt stands there for a moment all flustered, then finally decides to leave. He is such a pushover, didn’t even *try* for a last word. Oh, well. I turn back towards the ring to find everyone staring at me. Oops.
“What?” I ask, receiving a group groan.