SmackDown taping. I walk out of the bathroom of the locker room with an icepack practically attached to my head. Benoit is watching the monitor.
      “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” I ask.
      He ignores my question. “Vince and Paul have been too quiet tonight.”
      I quirk an eyebrow. “I guess you could call that interesting.”
      Benoit glances over at me. “Linda called me.”
      “So, she told you her idea, then?” I ask, partly commenting.
      “Yes,” he replies. “It’ll be good to have some gold again.”
      I pick up my two title belts. “You wanna carry one of these until I lose them Monday?”
      “No,” he responds, turning back to the monitor.
      I make a quick face at him, then shrug, putting the belts back down, then replace the icepack on my head. “Can’t say I never offered.”
      Adam comes in and stops to put an arm around my shoulders. “Bad news, Chris.”
      I roll my eyes. “Now, what?”
      “Looks like Vince is gonna call you out. Seems he heard about the new plan,” Adam says, removing his arm from me.
      “Yeah, call me out so I either look like a coward or get my ass kicked again. Just wonderful,” I mutter.
      “If he does call you out,” Benoit says, then turns to me, “I’ll go. I’ve been wanting to do some real fighting before my first real match back and I think it’ll be a great opportunity.”
      Adam looks at him like he suddenly grew a second head. I nudge him. “He’s been hanging around me too much.”
      “Oh,” Adam says. “Well, I’ll give you a hand, if you want.”
      “Thanks, Adam,” Benoit says.
      “Great, and I can make my plan of attack for Sunday,” I say.
      “I thought your win is in the bag,” Adam says.
      “It is, but other than the winner, it won’t be scripted,” I say. “Which reminds me, I’ll have to find out as soon as possible how I’ll lose the title next Monday, if I can. Hopefully, I’ll be able to participate in the tag match.”
      Benoit stands. “You better be ready or else I’ll team with Adam.” Adam smirks at that.
      “That’s fair,” I say, sarcastically.

      Later that night, Vince is in the ring doing his usual fifteen-minute monologue. Now, he’s calling me out. I kick back and watch as Benoit’s music hits, the crowd goes nuts, and he appears at the top of the ramp. At first, Vince looks a bit surprised, but it fades into his usual smug look.
      “Vance,” Benoit begins, surprising me so much I nearly fall off my chair. He gets another good pop from the crowd. “I know you called out my good friend Jericho, but I think you and Triple H have kicked his ass enough times in the past few weeks to last atleast a year, so I figured that since I haven’t had an official match yet, I’ll ask for one and save you the trouble. Tonight, I want Triple H.” And the crowd goes wild!
      Vince looks *pissed*! “Who do you think you are to come out here and request a match…?”
      “Hold on, there. I guess you haven’t heard yet, but a week from tonight, Jericho and I are going to face whoever the tag champs are for some gold. Do you know who signed that match? Rick Flair did, but do you know who’s *idea* it was? That’s right, Vance, your lovely wife, Linda, had the idea. So, as Mick Foley used to say,” he pauses for the pop, “have a nice day.” Benoit turns and goes back through the curtain, as the pop continues.
      A few minutes later, the locker room door opens and Benoit comes in. I can’t keep it to myself. ‘You called him ‘Vance’!”
      Benoit folds his arms over his chest. “I am *definitely* hanging around you too much, you’re rubbing off on me.”
      “Yeah, but is it really that bad?” I ask.
      “Yes,” he replies. I pout. “Don’t do that.”
      “Ya know, still at times you *can still* be Mr. Roboto,” I say, smirking.
      “Don’t make *me* kick your ass, too, Irvine,” he say, somewhat menacingly.

      Benoit’s match comes and goes. Of course, lucky Benoit didn’t get jumped… but he didn’t win either. Too bad, too, because I had talked him into letting me come down to the ring with him. Unfortunately, when I grabbed a chair and went to hit Trips, the ref saw it and DQed Benoit.
      “Those damn refs are never in the right place at the right time, nor are they ever not around when you really don’t want them,” I complain, entering the locker room, followed by the (almost) always-quiet Benoit. He just shakes his head, so I glare at him. “Well, they aren’t.” He ignores me, so I shrug and go about gathering my things. I pause a moment. “Are you gonna try for a shot at the Undisputed Title?”
      Benoit stops gathering his things and looks at me. “Never thought about it.” He goes back to his stuff.
      *knock, knock* Amy and the Hardyz come in.
      “Hey, guys,” Amy greets us.
      “Good match with Paul, Chris,” Matt comments.
      “Could’ve been better,” Benoit says, tossing a glare my way.
      I catch it. “Alright, so I got you DQed! So what? I just wanted to use a steel chair on him! Dammit, he used a sledgehammer on me…!” That’s about the time I realize they’re all staring at me and that my voice had gotten rather loud. I back off. “Okay, I’ll shut up now.”
      “Actually, I was thinking a handicap match would’ve been better,” Benoit says, relieving me of feeling really stupid.
      “Oh,” I say. “Well, I’m sure we’ll get that sometime, hopefully soon. As for now, I’ve got a title defense to prepare for.”
      “Does Paul actually know that he won’t get the title till Raw?” Jeff asks.
      “Well… Vince know, so I would think that Paul knows, especially considering the way he’s acting,” I say.
      “I’m sure he knows, which means he’ll be merciless on Sunday. I won’t be surprised if the match ends in ‘Last Man Standing’ fashion,” Benoit says.
      “Damn,” I say.