IT'S TRUE, IT'S TRUE

RAW IS WAR, MAY 14TH, 2001

"Oh I give up!" Angel cried. "Forget this. It’s impossible."

She angrily frisbeed a stop sign across the ring, narrowly avoiding decapitating Steve Blackman.

"So you want to stop?" he asked calmly.

Angel sighed. "This is not working. Sorry for wasting your time. I’ll be back when my arm heals."

"You know where to find me," Blackman told her.

Angel slowly broke into a smile. She stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks for being so patient today. That can’t have been easy."

Blackman shrugged. "I’d be here with or without you. It doesn’t bother me."

Angel smiled again.

"You’re great," she told him. "I’ll catch you in a few weeks."

By the time her feet hit the ground outside the ring, her mood had faded. What was she thinking, attempting hardcore training with a busted arm? She couldn’t even hold her damn sticks, much less swing a street sign properly. If it required two hands, she couldn’t do it, and unfortunately, that counted out most things. With Benoit, training was difficult, but she refused to let him bring her down. She psyched herself up to take whatever he could dish out, no matter what. She had no problem with Blackman and, as a result, no motivation to keep on with the frustration. It had to stop, despite the fact that it was only the first day she’d even attempted hardcore training since leaving the hospital. It didn’t matter. She’d be back.

Hoping the fluid she was wiping from her face was just sweat and not tears as well, she rubbed the towel across, then put it down and picked up her water bottle. She used her teeth to unscrew the lid, then took a long drink. She’d had about enough of the damn broken arm. She was a goddamn invalid and it was giving her the shits!

"Hey Angel."

Angel looked up. "Hi Trish. What’s up?"

But Trish wasn’t looking at her anymore.

"I thought Chris Benoit was your coach," she puzzled.

"He is," Angel told her, reaching for her towel again. "Blackman teaches me martial arts and hardcore. Well, he did. I’m gonna have to take a few weeks off until my arm’s better."

"Oh," Trish replied distractedly, still staring up at Blackman. "That’s awful."

Angel couldn’t help but smile. "Hey, Trish. Trish? Trish!"

"Hmm?" Trish asked, turning to face her at last.

"What’s up?" Angel grinned.

"I need your help," Trish announced.

"With what?" Angel frowned.

"I have to do a speech tonight and I don’t know what to say. You have to help me with it."

"Okay," Angel agreed. "So, what’s it about?"

"Hedonism."

"Right," Angel muttered. "Hedonism."

"See you round, Angel," Steve Blackman said, stepping past them on his way to the door.

"Bye Steve, and thanks."

Blackman nodded, then left the room.

"I never noticed that before," Trish breathed.

"What?"

"Steve Blackman is really, really fine!"

Angel laughed. "Okay, Trish. So, what’s this about hedonism?"

Trish snapped out of it. "It’s a video. Me and the other divas in the Caribbean, wearing bathing suits and getting all wet."

"So what’s the speech for?"

"I have to convince the fans to buy the video. But I just don’t know what to say."

"Why should they buy it?" Angel prompted.

"Huh?" Trish frowned.

"You want the fans to buy the tape. Well, why should they when they can go get the Star Wars movies on DVD?"

"Well, because I’m in the video, of course," Trish replied, deadly serious.

"Uh huh," Angel nodded. "What else?"

"Me and the other divas are almost naked and all wet," Trish went on.

"Exactly," Angel smiled. "So, that’s what you’ve gotta say."

"It is?" Trish frowned.

"It is. Listen, just let me go and get a shower, then I’ll meet you at your room and help you get something down on paper," Angel suggested. "Sound good?"

Trish nodded, cheerful again. "Yes, Angel. Thanks so much!"

"Hey," Angel grinned. "What are friends for?"

* * * *

"So, let me get this straight," Angel said. "On Sunday you’re fighting Kurt Angle and you’ve spent the entire weekend preparing for it, but tonight you want Edge and Christian anyway?"

Benoit nodded coolly. "That’s right."

"Well, okay," Angel shrugged. "Still, I think I better wait until Jericho gets here, just to make sure."

"What?" Benoit snapped.

"Well, he would be your tag partner, right? I can’t just assume that he wants what you want. Yes, I know I’m your manager and not his, but it really wouldn’t be right to put him offside by just…"

She was cut off as the door swung open. There stood Jericho.

"Wolverine," he nodded at Benoit, before turning to Angel. "Rogue."

Angel broke into a smile and returned his nod. "Gambit."

"A purist," Jericho commented. "I like that."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Benoit demanded.

Angel turned to him with a smirk. "Talk to Raven about it sometime. I’m sure he’ll fill you in."

"Oh yeah," Jericho agreed. "Raisin’s a big X-Men fan."

Benoit scowled as the conversation continued to travel over his head. "Do you think we can talk about our match tonight? Oh wait. We don’t have a match, do we, bitch?"

Angel grinned at Jericho. "He wants Edge and Christian. How about you?"

"I’m up for that," Jericho told her.

"Okay," Angel nodded. "I’ll go set it up."

She headed for the door.

"Where the hell are you going, Y2J?" Benoit cried.

"I’m just going to make sure commissioner assclown doesn’t try anything. Don’t worry. We’ll be back to talk strategy in a few minutes so sit tight, junior."

Benoit just scowled and shook his head. Why couldn’t Jericho see what the bitch was doing? What the hell was the matter with him?

* * * *

Angel stepped confidently up to Regal’s desk and leaned over imposingly.

"Hello, commissioner. How are you today?"

Regal cringed and drew back. "Please, Miss Torres, you must cover yourself up. Your…uh, well, they’re quite distracting."

Angel looked down at the view Regal would be getting, then back at him. "You revolting pervert. I came here to talk business. Do you think you can handle that or do I have to report you for sexual harassment?"

Now Regal was on the back foot. "What is it, Miss Torres? What do you want?"

Angel straightened up and formed a reflective look. "It’s not about what I want. It’s about what Benoit wants. He and Jericho want Edge and Christian in tag, just like you refused to give them on Thursday."

Regal was unmoved. "Oh, and I suppose they’re waiting for you just outside like the loyal bodyguards they are."

"They sure are," Angel smirked.

"Do you know what I think, Miss Torres?" Regal asked.

"No, what?"

"I think you’re lying to me, you bloody little tart," Regal cried, lunging forward and grabbing Angel by the neck. "I think they’re not out there at all. I think you’re trying to make a fool out of me."

"Help!" Angel screamed. "Jericho! Help!"

"Keep on shouting," Regal encouraged, slamming Angel down onto the desk. "We both know they’re not coming."

At that moment, Jericho burst into the room, fists flying. Angel jumped to safety and waited as Jericho gave Regal something to think about.

"I thought I told you not to give her any more trouble!" he cried. "How many times to I have to kick your ass before you get it through your head?"

Regal cowered back until he hit the wall. Luckily for him, Jericho didn’t follow. He just stood furiously, fists clenched.

"Did he give you what you wanted, baby?" Jericho asked Angel. She shook her head in response so he turned back to Regal, sick smirk in place. "Now, why not, assclown? Don’t you ever learn?" He slowly approached Regal, eyes wild.

"Wait!" Regal cried at the critical moment. "You can have it! You can have your bloody match! Edge and Christian, you say? Done! Now remove yourselves from my office at once!"

Jericho raised his eyebrows and turned to Angel. "I don’t know, baby. I didn’t hear him say please."

"Please! Please!" Regal cried.

Jericho nodded smugly and stepped over to Angel. "Done and done. See you later, assclown."

He and Angel put an arm around each other and headed for the door.

"You won’t get away with this, Jericho," Regal told him.

Jericho stopped and turned back. "Of course I will. Who are you kidding?"

With that, he and Angel exited the office, leaving Regal flat on his back and his desk looking like a disaster area. All in a day’s work.

* * * *

"That is bullshit!" Benoit seethed.

This time, Angel had to agree with him. Raw had started a while ago and Kurt Angle had gone to visit the commissioner, who told him that if he won his match against Rikishi that night, he would be able to choose stipulations for the Judgment Day encounter with Benoit.

"No kidding, it’s bullshit," Angel muttered. "He’s only doing it to soften up Rikishi before Judgment Day. Damn yellow pussy."

"Look on the bright side," Jericho told them. "Maybe the big guy will come up with the win."

"Right," scowled both Angel and Benoit.

All three tuned into the television. Surprisingly, it looked as though Jericho was right. At worst, the match was even. At best, Rikishi was ahead. He even trapped Angle in the corner and grinned at the crowd, ready for the stinkface.

At that moment, William Regal ran down the ramp.

"Not a chance, jackass!" Angel screamed, leaping to her feet and bursting from the room.

"Get your ass back here, bitch!" Benoit boomed, but it was too late. She was already gone.

* * * *

By the time Angel reached the stage, the damage had been done. Rikishi was on the mat and the DQ had been called. A gloating Regal was surveying the damage as he backed up the ramp.

With a fighting stick in one hand, Angel launched herself, just as she had a week earlier. Her legs were locked around his waist and she pounded his head with the stick and with the cast.

"I don’t even need Jericho to help me fight my battles," she sneered as Regal tried desperately to shrug her off. "But he is a damn useful friend. Don’t screw with me, jackass…argh!"

"Get off him!" Benoit screamed as he dragged her away. "What the hell are you thinking?"

He dragged her backwards up the ramp as she struggled against his waistlock.

"Let me go, Benoit! Let me go!"

Benoit didn’t speak. He had to use all his energy to prevent her from getting free. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Kurt Angle sprinting up the ramp and leading with his right. He’d telegraphed it like a charm, so Benoit simply threw Angel aside, ducked the punch, twisted Angle around and brought him down into the crossface.

Angel picked herself up and looked on, watching Benoit punish Angle. He was tapping, but Benoit was never going to let go.

Just then, Angel heard Kurt’s voice.

"You wanna see Edge and Christian? Sure, I’ll take you to them."

And then it all came back. She entered the locker room, all happy and proud of herself. Rhyno slammed a trashcan into the back of her head and then it was on. She tried to get away but Kurt held her as the others hit her in the head with fists, with props, with anything they could get their hands on, over and over and over. She got her left hand free and tried to block the conchairto, but they slammed the chairs into her arm instead and pain roared through her. Her arm fell uselessly to her side as they kept hitting her and she screamed, but no one came. No one came. She remembered. She remembered it all.

Eyes full of tears, Angel stared over at Kurt.

"You son of bitch," she whispered. "You son of a bitch."

A low growl left her throat and she lost control, running over to Kurt and sinking her boot into his side as refs tried to pull Benoit away.

"You son of a bitch!" she kept screaming. "I’ll make you pay. I will never forget this. Never!"

A few referees grabbed her and dragged her away and she fell to the ground, sobbing.

From far away, she heard Benoit’s voice. "Get my valet! Someone get my damn valet!"

And then she was being carried, though she didn’t know by who. Didn’t know and didn’t care. It was true. Everything Jericho had told her was true.

It was his voice she heard next.

"Are you okay, baby?"

She wept and held him tight. At least she thought it was him.

"He led me there, knowing what they were going to do to me. I had no idea. He held me back while they attacked me. They hit me in the head. They broke my arm. I couldn’t get away. I tried to call for help. I kept screaming and screaming, but no one came. No one came to save me."

"It’s okay," Jericho soothed, one hand on her back and the other supporting the back of her head. "It’s okay."

"You were the only one," Angel whispered, tears still streaming from her eyes. "You saved my life. They would have let me die. You saved me."

"It’s okay," Jericho repeated. "You’re still here. You’re still fighting. It’s okay."

They’d been standing there for some time when Trish Stratus walked past, on her way to the ring.

"Angel! Chris! How are you guys?" she enthused, giving them a knowing smile.

Jericho answered for both of them, keeping his hand on the back of Angel’s head so she didn’t have to look up.

"We’re okay," he replied solemnly.

"Great!" Trish cried. "Well, I have to go do my speech now, but I’ll see you guys later."

Jericho nodded. "Bye Trish."

By now, Angel had stopped crying, so Jericho drew back to look her in the eye. "How you feeling?"

Angel gave a meek half smile. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was going to get my memory back. I guess it shocked me."

"Hey, no problem, baby," Jericho shrugged. "But you look like a wreck. Let’s get you cleaned up."

Angel nodded slowly and let him lead her into the women’s locker room.

"Chris Jericho!" called a voice. "I haven’t seen you in here in what, at least two weeks."

Jericho gave a sarcastic grin. "Shove it, Chyna. And go get me a towel."

"Yes, master," Chyna muttered, finding one for him. "Hey, it’s Angel, right? What’s up?"

Jericho turned to Chyna as Angel bent over the sink and washed her face. "She was faced with the sight of both Kirk Angel and Commissioner Regal."

Chyna cringed. "That’d bring anyone to tears."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jericho nodded.

Angel took the towel from Jericho and wiped her face dry.

"I’m okay now," she said quietly.

"Great, baby. Well, I guess I’ll see you later," he said to Chyna.

"Bye Chris. And try to stay out of the women’s room. I know it’s hard for you."

Jericho smirked at her. "You want me."

"Right, Chris. Keep on dreaming."

Jericho just shook his head and led Angel from the room. "Oh yeah, she wants me, baby. Too bad she can’t have me."

* * * *

Angel sat quietly as Benoit and Jericho went through their final match preparations. Her eyes were closed and she rocked slightly as she concentrated on her thoughts.

‘I am a vigilante,’ she thought. ‘They broke me once. Never again. They will pay for what they’ve done. Everyone is accountable in the end. I am a vigilante.’

She slowly opened her eyes to find that Benoit was staring down at her.

"Come on," he said darkly. "It’s time."

She nodded solemnly and got to her feet.

"Here," Benoit added, handing her something.

"What’s this?" she frowned.

"A medal. Put it on."

"Okay. We’re wearing uniforms today. Whatever."

Angel hooked the medal over her head and followed Benoit from the locker room. They made their entrance, both cool and calm and when they reached the ring, Benoit turned to Angel and removed his medal, then motioned for her to do the same.

"Whatever," she said again, before handing it to him. He stepped over to hang them from the ringpost, but Angel wasn’t watching him anymore. Jericho was about to arrive. She smiled as he made his ever-flamboyant entrance and joined them at the bottom of the ramp. Angel held out her hands and Jericho brought his fists down on them gently, but when she turned to do the same to Benoit, he just gave her a look. She sighed, rolled her eyes and headed for the corner.

Jericho decided to start things off with Christian and circled him slowly, picking his spot.

"Come on, Jerky!" Angel cried as they locked up and the ringbell sounded. "Kick his ass!"

Jericho scored the first knockdown with a clothesline off the ropes and then a bulldog into a cover. Christian kicked out early, but Jericho pushed him into the corner and tagged in Benoit.

Angel peered up at the ref, who was busy giving Jericho the standard five seconds before making him leave the ring. She gave a slow nod and ran quickly, keeping her head low and pulling out one of her sticks. A she reached the opposite corner, she leaped off the steps, slammed the stick into Edge’s back and was running again before she even hit the ground.

"Hey!" Edge cried, looking down furiously, but Angel just kept running until she was safely back in her own corner.

"Come on, Benoit!" she cried, tapping on the canvas with her stick before she realized just how conspicuous that looked, so she put her stick away and started over. "Come on, Benoit!"

Just then, Benoit telegraphed a back body drop and Christian kicked him in the head, then raced over to tag in Edge. Christian wasn’t the only one racing – Angel was on the move again.

This time, when she reached the other corner, she had a new plan. Again she jumped, but this time she reached out, grabbed the top of Christian’s tights and dragged him down off the apron. Before he knew what was going on, she’d tangled her legs with his in a modified figure four and was landing fast, furious punches to his kidneys. Christian cried out and tried desperately to struggle free, but Angel was determined not to be beaten and held him down strongly, using her hold to hyperextend his knee.

Christian breathed heavily. There was totally no way he was going to let some crazy chick keep him down. So he moved his hands, grabbed her left arm and, using all his strength, slammed it down on the steps.

"Argh!" Angel screamed, immediately releasing him.

Christian wasted no time leaping back up onto the apron, then rushing in to help Edge, who had just experienced German suplex number two. But Benoit simply ducked the punch and brought Christian down into the crossface. Before Christian could tap, Edge connected with a dropkick to Benoit’s skull, forcing him to break the hold. Edge continued kicking Benoit, sending him back towards Christian and the corner.

Whimpering with pain, Angel had only made it to her knees, but she peered into the ring and spotted Benoit, who was reeling after each kick from Edge. She grabbed the apron and pulled herself up so that she was standing, then reached out, took Benoit’s hand and curled it over the rope. The ref chose that moment to look down.

"One…two…three...four. He’s on the rope, Edge. He’s on the rope."

Angel let out a relieved sigh and dragged herself back to her own corner. She reached it just in time to hear the crowd go "Whoo!" after a Benoit chop to Edge.

"Come on, Benoit," she encouraged, trying to ignore the pain in her arm.

But Edge simply raked Benoit’s eyes, scored a takedown and tagged in Christian.

Angel grabbed a stick, took a deep breath and ran. Again, Edge wasn’t ready for it and her stick shot to his back caused him to release Benoit from the boot to the throat. By the time he turned around, Angel was nowhere in sight.

Edge shook his head and encouraged Christian, who now had the cover.

"Yeah! Alright!" Angel cried as Benoit kicked out.

Christian tagged Edge and Angel was on the go again.

"Hey!" cried an unfamiliar voice. "Valet! What are you doing?"

Angel stopped to give the ref and innocent look. "Just taking a walk, sir."

"Stay in your corner!" the ref ordered.

Angel simply raised her hands and walked slowly back towards Jericho. She’d have another chance. The ref couldn’t watch her all the time.

And just then, as the ref reprimanded Christian for being illegally in the ring, Angel got her chance.

Jericho was set to go up top.

"Rogue, baby, get a chair and be ready near the ramp."

Angel nodded rapidly and set off. She didn’t have much time.

"Chair!" she screamed, evicting the nearest seated person. Then she ran quickly and stood right behind Christian.

She didn’t have long to wait. Jericho nailed the missile dropkick on Edge, then raced over and punched Christian in the face. As he fell from the ring, Angel was there and the chair cracked across Christian’s skull with sickening force. She then looped the chair through the air and slammed it down into Christian’s stomach. Finally, she went for a third shot, but Christian got his legs up and kicked out, sending Angel tumbling backwards and forcing her to drop the chair.

Humiliated, she picked herself up and noticed immediately that Christian was in; Edge was out.

She formed a sick smile. Edge. Reaching down for the stick, she was on her way again. But just as she leaped, Edge spun around and reacted quickly, grabbing her flying body and flipping it over, letting it slam down onto the ground. Angel lay where she fell, gasping in air and trying desperately to reinflate her lungs. Things had been pretty scary there for a second, but she was okay; she was just winded.

When she finally picked herself up, she noticed that Benoit had finally made the tag to Jericho and Christian had tagged in Edge. Edge reversed a chop into a whip, which sent Jericho flying into Christian, knocking him off the apron.

Angel was off and running again. Sure, she was opportunistic and possibly even a little crazy, but this was about revenge and she was damn sure gonna have it.

This time, she didn’t use any fancy props. She just sunk her boots into Christian, just as she’d done to Kurt Angle earlier in the night. Whenever he tried to fight back, she jumped away, just out of reach, then ran into again and continued her assault.

Christian dug deep and despite Angel’s kicks, managed to pull himself into the ring and break the Walls of Jericho Y2J had on Edge.

Angel scowled up at him, shaking her head. Next time, she wouldn’t let him get away. Benoit had just thrown Christian from the ring and jumped down after him to continue the battle on the outside. Angel gave a confident nod and climbed up onto the apron. In a few seconds, Benoit and Christian would appear around the corner. In a few seconds, she would fly.

Bam! Christian slammed Benoit’s head into the ringpost, then kept on walking. He hadn’t seen Angel.

"Arrgh!" Angel screamed, just like she used to.

Christian looked up just in time to see Angel leap through the air and bring him down in a hurricanrana. She bounced to her feet and ran to get a chair, forgetting about the one she’d dropped at the bottom of the ramp. Smirking to herself, she turned back to Christian, chair in hand when crack! The other chair slammed into her head and she fell heavily to the ground.

Christian gave a satisfied nod, grabbed the chair from her and put it in the ring, then climbed in after it, still carrying his own chair. Edge picked up the one on the mat. It was conchairto time and Y2J was the man of the hour.

Benoit was just picking himself up when he spotted her, lying on the ground and holding her head.

"Bitch!" he screamed, climbing into the ring.

Edge and Christian slammed their chairs against the canvas, then sung them towards Jericho, but he ducked just in time. Edge and Christian then spun awkwardly into a Benoit dropkick, which slammed the chairs into their bodies and their backs into the mat.

"Dammit," Angel seethed, grabbing at her head with her right arm and rolling to her side.

"No! Kurt!" she cried suddenly.

He had sprinted down the ramp, headed straight for the ringpost and the medals. Before anyone could stop him, he’d grabbed them and raced up the ramp again.

Inside the ring, Jericho hit the lionsault on Edge, hooked his leg and one…two…three. They had the win.

Benoit clambered to his feet and finally spotted Kurt, who was calling out to him from the stage.

"I got my medals back, Benoit. I don’t have to go to the Pay Per View. I got my medals back."

Summoning all her strength, Angel dragged herself into the ring and Jericho’s side. He helped her stand, giving her a concerned frown.

"Are you okay?"

Angel blinked at him through the pain that was roaring through her skull. "My head hurts."

She opened her eyes a little wider and was faced with the sight of Benoit glaring at her.

"What?"

"Get the microphone, bitch."

"Fine," Angel groaned, searching for it, picking it up and holding it out for Benoit to take.

He formed a smirk and turned to the stage.

"Hey Angle!"

Kurt looked back at him. "I got my medals, Benoit!"

Benoit went on. "Kurt Angle! I hope you like your medals. They’re real sweet. As a matter of fact, they’re a lot sweeter than you think they are. Because they’re made of candy, just like your ass!"

"What?" Kurt cried incredulously.

He ripped the medals from around his neck and examined them urgently. He tried bending one, but it just snapped in his hand. He tested the other one, but it too crumbled.

"You son of a bitch! They’re candy!" he cried incredulously. "You son of a bitch!"

Back in the ring, Benoit and Jericho were gloating, while a still dazed Angel kept blinking heavily and attempting to remain upright, despite her urge to curl up and go to sleep. She watched Benoit and Jericho through slitted eyes. They seemed to be having a lot of fun with Benoit’s purple tights, although she really couldn’t see or think clearly enough to be sure. Suddenly, Benoit held aloft the gold medal he kept down his trunks, then looked expectantly over at Angel.

‘Oh,’ she thought. ‘He wants me to hold up the one I’ve got.’

She did just that, reaching down her top, locating the medal and whipping it out. The crowd went crazy, but Kurt Angle was far less impressed.

"Hey, those are my medals! You better give those back, Benoit!"

Benoit quickly grabbed the medal from Angel and held both of them up. "These Olympic gold medals. Well, I know how much you want them. All you have to do is prove me wrong at Judgment Day."

Kurt was livid. "Just you wait ‘til the Pay Per View! Just you wait!"

But the moment belonged to Benoit, who put both medals around his neck and raised both arms for the crowd, before finally exiting the ring.

Jericho stepped over to Angel and put a hand on her back. "You ready to go, baby?"

She nodded weakly.

Jericho raised his eyebrows at her. "Do you need to go see the trainer?"

Angel nodded again.

"Okay," Jericho mused. "We’ll get you there."

And that was the best idea Angel had heard all night.

* * * *

"What the hell’s wrong with you?" Benoit demanded.

"It’s Monday," Angel replied, ignoring him in favor of the trainer, who was checking her eyes for their accommodation reflex.

Jericho answered for her. "She got a knock to the head."

"I asked her," Benoit snapped. "She can talk. What’s wrong with you, bitch?"

Angel squinted up at him, unable to see through the blinding light. "I got hit in the head."

"How?" Benoit demanded. "How did that happen?"

"Christian swung a chair and my head jumped in the way."

Benoit was not amused. "I thought I told you to stay in the corner and keep out of the action."

Angel just blinked heavily. "Since when have I given a crap what you tell me to do?"

Benoit slowly shook his head. "Do you want to keep getting attacked?"

"No," Angel pouted. "But I do want to fight my own battles."

"You can’t," Benoit replied emphatically.

"Why not?"

"Because you’re a girl."

"Wow, how observant of you, asshole. What the hell has being a girl got to do with it?"

"Everything."

"Like what?" Angel insisted.

"You’re smaller than a man."

"I’m like the same height you are, shortass," Angel challenged.

Benoit scowled. "You’re weaker than a man."

"The Big Show, yes," Angel agreed. "But I honestly think I could take Christian."

"You can’t."

"Why not?"

"Because you’re a girl."

Angel fumed at him. "So, why the hell are you wasting your time training me, huh? And don’t say it’s so I’ll keep making your matches because you wanted to coach me before the manager thing even came up."

"I coach you to fight women," Benoit scowled.

"What a crock!" Angel cried. "I know why you started coaching me. It’s because you wanted Al Snow out of the way. While I was training with him, that was just one little part of my life you didn’t control. Well, guess what, Benoit? Just because you got rid of Al, it doesn’t mean you control me. If I want to interfere, I’ll interfere. You can’t stop me."

"The hell I can’t!" Benoit snapped.

Angel shook her head and glared at him confidently. "Not without putting your own matches at risk. I’m going to attack who I like when I like and there’s nothing you can do about it."

"Oh no?" Benoit challenged.

"Well," Angel replied slowly. "I guess there is one thing. You could fire me. You could set me free."

Benoit smirked at her. "Nice try."

"Oh well," Angel shrugged. "It’s your choice. But as long as you keep fighting people I have issues with, I’m going to keep on reminding them that I’m still alive. And the best way to tell them that is with the only language you people seem to understand. Hardcore violence."

"I think she did a good job," Jericho piped up.

Benoit spun to glare at him. "I don’t care what you think. I didn’t ask you."

"Okay," Jericho shrugged. "But before you judge her, just remember Chyna. She’s been IC champ as many times as either of us."

"The bitch is not Chyna," Benoit said darkly.

"No and I’m not you. It doesn’t mean we’re not both great wrestlers."

Benoit scowled at him. "When I want your opinion, Y2J, I will ask for it. Now, come on, princess. We’re leaving."

"But Mr. Benoit," the trainer protested. "I’m not done…"

"We’re leaving!" Benoit shouted.

Angel cringed and stood up slowly, before sharing a smile with Jericho. "My dad says I have to go now."

Jericho grinned. "I’ll see you later, Rogue."

Angel stepped up for a hug goodbye and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for sticking up for me."

Just then, Benoit grabbed her arm and wrenched her from Jericho’s grasp and out of the trainer’s room.

"God," Angel cried, pulling her arm free. "Take a pill!"

Benoit spun furiously. "That’s not funny."

Angel raised her eyebrows. "It wasn’t supposed to be."

She sighed and reached into her pocket before pulling out a broken and slightly melted candy gold medal and popping it in her mouth. The chocolate melting in her mouth was just like heaven.

"Mmm," she murmured happily. "That’s good medal."

Benoit turned to give her his death glare. "Are you eating the medals? I got those to fool Kurt."

"Best tasting prank ever," Angel enthused, grinning at how pissed off she was making him.

Benoit grabbed her arm even more tightly and pulled her along at double speed.

"Walk faster!" he ordered, knowing she was having a little trouble walking at all.

He was in foul mood and it was all her fault. Tonight was supposed to be his night, teaching Edge and Christian a tag team lesson, having Kurt fall right into his little trap. But the bitch had ruined it all. Couldn’t she once do as she was told? It wasn’t as though it was such a big request – stay out of trouble. Benoit was sick to death of having to avenge her stupid mistakes. But she was intent on making them, intent on picking fights, intent on ignoring everything he said.

Jericho thought it was great – finally she was on their side. She wanted to be a part of the team. She wanted to help out, even if that meant foolishly putting her own body on the line. Benoit didn’t buy it, but Jericho was sold. The impossible was happening. The whore was charming Jericho and he was falling for it. Benoit really hadn’t thought it possible, but the bitch was young and smart and pretty and it seemed no one was immune. Not even Jericho. And if she asked him to fight for her…

Benoit was losing control. The thought hit him like Triple H’s sledgehammer. The whore had been right about that. He was losing control. And, for a man whose life was so ordered, so precise, there was nothing more worrying in the world. And the thought that the bitch would rise above him, taking Jericho with her; Jericho with his pretty blonde hair and smart mouth; Jericho, who’d punished Benoit so many times before. It couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let it.

The bitch thought she was part of the team? Well, he’d show her for what she was – a weak, pathetic, fragile little girl. Then Jericho would see. And he’d stop putting her on a pedestal. Things would be as they had been, as they should always be. There was no room for a girl on the team. And if Benoit could help it, there never would be.