QUEEN OF THE RING

SMACKDOWN! JUNE 14TH, 2001

Angel sat glumly in the hotel restaurant, staring at her hands and waiting for Jericho to arrive for their daily debrief session. She seriously wasn’t in the mood, but she was grateful for his persistence. If it wasn’t for these meetings and travelling, she probably wouldn’t get out of bed.

She was the type of person who moped for days and sometimes weeks after a heavy breakup, but it was funny. Her last few breakups had been too overwhelmed with other things…most of them to do with Benoit, that she just hadn’t had time. But now it was Benoit she was mourning…not that it had really been a breakup. They hadn’t exactly been going out. It had sure been heavy though, real heavy. But Jericho was right. She had to get over it. Who’d have though she’d find it so hard to get over Benoit? It was just wrong.

"Hey Rogue, been waiting long?"

She gave him a small smile. "No," she replied and it was the truth. It only felt like an eternity.

"So," Jericho smiled, sitting opposite her and tapping his hands on the table. "How you holding up?"

"I’m doing better," Angel shrugged, and she really was. She hadn’t cried at all today…yet.

Jericho gave an interested nod. "And have you decided what you’re going to do next?" he asked, signaling for the waiter to bring some menus.

"Well, I’m still here, if that’s what you mean. I’m not gonna run away. I’m gonna do what I always intended doing once I got away from Benoit, and that’s get a contract."

"Are you okay for money?"

"Should be," Angel told him. "Hopefully it’ll last me about a month. That’s plenty of time to get myself on payroll. I mean, with my looks and talent, who’s gonna refuse me?"

Jericho grinned as her smile somewhat broke through her sadness. "So, who are you gonna bug for a trial? Big Mac Daddy Vinorama?"

"Yeah, I think so," Angel nodded confidently. "I still have a lot I want to accomplish here in the WWF and Vinnie’s not gonna be able to touch me unless he employs me, so it works out good for both of us."

"You’re not going to run to Shane?"

"WCW?" Angel frowned. "God, no. Well, only if Vince won’t give me the time of day, but why wouldn’t he want me, huh? I kick ass."

"You sure do, baby," Jericho grinned.

"So, what have you got tonight?" Angel asked casually. It was an unspoken agreement that, once Angel had spilled her guts about Benoit all Monday night, they wouldn’t discuss him unless absolutely necessary. So, if she wanted to know anything, she had to be subtle.

"Tag title defense," Jericho shrugged. "Same old thing."

"Oh yeah?" Angel frowned, reaching for a piece of bread. "Who’s it against?"

"Our old friends, the frat boys from hell."

"Edge and Christian," Angel grinned. "I love those guys."

"Yeah, me too, baby. Hey, you should come along, cause some…oh, that’s right," he cut off, noticing her incredulous expression.

"It’s okay," Angel shrugged. "You might see me anyway. I think I’ll pull some random run-ins, you know, get the powers that be to notice I exist, that I’m not going anywhere and that, dammit, I want a contact and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get one."

"You might not have to go that far," Jericho announced.

"Why not?"

"There’s a rumor going around that, now Greasebag Guerrero’s injured, there’s still a place left in the King of the Ring qualifying round. Elroy Holly has a match tonight, but he doesn’t have an opponent. Plenty of people want that place – especially against Elroy – like Billy Gunn, Essa Rios, those kind of guys. What you’ve gotta do is get yourself the match, beat Elroy, then, baby, your contract’s assured. In fact, you could be the next King of the Ring. How does that sound?"

Angel’s eyes widened. Angel Torres. 2001 King of the Ring. Or Queen of the Ring. Whatever way, it sounded pretty damn cool. Kurt Angle had won King of the Ring last year and had gone on to become the heavyweight champion. What could Angel do, given the same opportunity?

"Jerky," she grinned, eyes sparkling. "That qualifying match is mine."

* * * *

Angel tapped confidently on William Regal’s desk.

"Before you even start, I must know. Chris Benoit and Chris Jericho. Where are they?"

Angel formed a sick smirk. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

"Miss Torres!" Regal cried. "Would you please stand up straight? I’ve told you before that they’re…well…quite distracting."

Angel frowned and rose to her full height. "What? You don’t like my new halter-top? I think it’s sexy. What do you think?" she asked Tajiri.

He just stared at her, eyes bulging and announced something in Japanese.

Regal drew back in horror. "Now, Tajiri, you mustn’t say that. You mustn’t let this little trollop lead you in her vulgarity."

"Oh, Regal," Angel grinned, leaning over again. "William, William, William. You don’t seem to understand. I think you’re friend’s cute and I’m quite prepared to lead him wherever he wants to go."

Tajiri grinned and started bouncing around excitedly and exclaiming loudly.

"Miss Torres!" Regal cried. "Now, look what you’ve done. Would you mind telling me what it is you want? Chris Benoit and Chris Jericho already have a match tonight, so if you don’t mind…"

"No, I’m not here about them," Angel frowned incredulously. "I’m here about me."

"Well, what do you want?" Regal demanded.

Angel’s eyes became clear and focused. "Crash Holly. King of the Ring qualifier. Tonight."

"What about him?" Regal frowned.

"I want to face him. In that match. I want you to book me for it."

"Impossible!" Regal cried. "You’re not contracted. I can’t book you for anything."

"Sure you can," Angel insisted. "All you have to do is give me one of those one match releases to sign and you can book me in any match you like. Not that I advise playing silly buggers. I have a lot of friends and believe me when I tell you they have my back."

"I’ll just bet they do," Regal mused. "Bloody toe rags. But you aren’t listening to me, Miss Torres. I don’t have any releases for you to sign. I don’t have the power to make decisions such as that. Your request must go directly to Mr. McMahon, and I’m sorry, but he’s not here. He’s taken the night off tonight."

Angel glowered at him. "It’s simple, jackass. Real simple. You get me a release and I will sign it. If you refuse to do that, well, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass again."

"Now, don’t be ridiculous," Regal snapped. "I don’t have a release for you. And even if I did, what makes you think you even deserve a King of the Ring qualifier? That is an honor which must be earned. You’ve done nothing to warrant that honor, nothing at all. And no, besmirchment of your WWF commissioner in cage matches, singles matches and after other matches does not qualify you. You’re simply going to have to look elsewhere, for, of all the people I could choose for that match, you would be the last. Is that clear?"

"Well," Angel smirked. "In that case…" She leaped onto his desk and hit him with a dropkick and then a big splash before punching him furiously. Regal didn’t even have time to retaliate before Tajiri grabbed Angel and dragged her away. He stood her against the wall, frowning at her intently.

"No!" he cried, waggling his finger. "No, no, no."

"Tajiri!" Regal screamed, face bright red. "Hold her there while I give her the thrashing of a lifetime. I’ll teach the little tart not to besmirch me."

But, for some reason, Tajiri stretched his arms, refusing to let Regal past.

"Tajiri, get out of my bloody way!"

Tajiri let out a little screech and then a barrage of Japanese and Regal finally backed off.

"Fine, my boy. I shall relent and show mercy. But just this time, do you understand? This girl has been a thorn in my side ever since she sided with that bloody Chris Jericho. Miss Torres, I suggest you remove yourself before I change my mind."

Angel held his gaze. "Give me my damn match."

And suddenly Tajiri was in her face, screaming at her with words she couldn’t understand. She tried to give him the slip, but his incessant banter was hurting her brain. Finally, she lifted her gaze and glared at Regal, trying to talk over Tajiri.

"Okay, assclown," she said evenly. "I’ll leave. But you will see me again tonight. I’m not saying where, I’m not saying when, but mark my words, you’ll see me. I haven’t even begun to fight." She gave him a confident half-smile and a single nod, then turned and walked away.

Regal shook his head and made a ‘tut-tut’ sound. "Take heed of that girl, Tajiri. She used to show so much promise, but then she fell into the wrong company and now I’m afraid she’s nothing but a frightful nuisance. She needs a good spanking, she does."

This only made Tajiri start exclaiming and bouncing again.

"Tajiri! Please control yourself. In fact, go make me a fresh pot of tea and for heaven’s sake, calm down." As Tajiri ran off to carry out the orders, Regal shook his head again. "I frankly can’t see what all the fuss is about, myself. The girl is vulgar and the way she displays herself to all and sundry…"

* * * *

Angel stepped reluctantly into the women’s locker room. She’d only been here twice before and it had been almost empty both times. But now, it seemed, everyone was present and accounted for. Well, not Lita, but her appearances in the women’s locker room were about as common as Angel’s.

Not meeting anyone’s gaze, Angel continued her walk.

"Angel! You’re here!" Trish cried joyously, jumping forward to give her a hug.

"Not so fast, blondie," called a voice. "Let me talk to the new meat." Angel turned as about five foot nothing of Jacqueline approached her. "Now, green thang, you fancy yourself a diva, do you?"

"No," Angel shrugged, meeting the older woman’s gaze. "I fancy myself a wrestler."

"Is that so?" Jackie sneered, hands on her hips. "You think you’re one of us, do you, green? You think you belong in here? You think you can play with the big girls? Let me tell you something, little miss Angel. I’ve seen bigger women than you come and go. I’ve seen them cry for their mommas because they just can’t cut it. Thousands and thousands of little girls, just like you, think they can be here, think they can be divas, think they can mix it with the real superstars. Let me tell you something, girl. I see girls like you every day, you’re just like every one of them…"

"That’s enough, Jackie. Let her be," Molly piped up.

"Miss Molly, do you mind? I’m not done talking." She turned back to Angel, glaring right into her eyes. "You’re just like those others. You’re no better than any of them. You think you’re better? You’re not. You think you’re tougher? You’re not. If I were you I’d just pack it in and go home because, honey, you ain’t gonna make it. Look here. I don’t trust you and I sure as hell don’t like you, so what I want to know is this. Are you crying?"

Angel narrowed her eyes. "No," she replied coldly.

"You’re not? Well, I have just one thing to say to you, green. One thing." She reached out a hand and tapped Angel on the cheek. "Welcome to the asylum. I think you’ll fit right in." With that, she roared with laughter and returned to her area of the locker room, leaving Angel to look on, a bewildered expression on her face.

Trish stepped up to Angel, grinning broadly. "She does that to everyone. She’s a complete nut."

"No kidding," Angel muttered, walking over to Trish’s gear and throwing her bag aside. "So, what do you guys do in here? Other than make yourselves look pretty," she mused, eyeing off all the divas who were doing their hair and makeup with the precision of a military regiment.

Trish giggled. "Well, there’s a lot of that, of course. It really all depends on whether or not we have matches. There’s the TV, but usually most of us go watch in the catering area. It can be real fun having interns drooling all over you."

"I’ll have to try that some time," Angel smiled.

"Definitely," Trish agreed, before turning serious. "Anyway, Angel. Why are you here? What about Chris and Chris?"

As Angel’s stomach started its spin cycle, she set her gaze. She’d been prepared for this question; she just didn’t know if she was ready.

"You remember," she said reflectively. "How all I had to do, in order to be able to get away and live my life was to make Benoit let me go? Well, he let me go."

Trish’s eyes widened, but then she formed a frown. "But what about…"

"He let me go, Trish," Angel cut in. "That’s all I wanted. I’m free. I never have to valet or do anything else for him again."

Trish’s frown only deepened. "You mean, all this time you were just…"

"It doesn’t matter," Angel told her. "I’m free. That’s all that matters."

Trish gave a slight nod, then slowly, slowly broke into a smile. "Well, way to go, Angel. That’s great!"

"Yeah," Angel replied curtly. "It is great."

Trish gave her a strange look. "You’re weird, Angel. But that’s okay. I like you anyway."

"I’m glad," Angel murmured. "At least someone does."

* * * *

Angel examined her fingernails as the familiar strains of ‘Shooter’ filled the air. She could still hear, but that didn’t mean she had to look. Howard Finkel was speaking.

"And first, from Edmonton, Alberta, weighing in at two hundred twenty-five pounds, one half of the World Wrestling Federation tag team champions, Chris Benoit!"

‘That crowd is popping him big,’ Angel noticed. ‘Well, good for him, he deserves it.’

Michael Cole spoke next.

"Well, no doubt Chris Benoit is not once hundred per cent heading into this tag team title match, here tonight."

"Hey man," Tazz went on. "Have you noticed he’s missing something? Where’s that Devil?"

"Apparently, Tazz, word is that Chris Benoit and Angel Torres have parted ways. He didn’t take too kindly to her desertion from that cage match Monday night."

"Hey, the girl had to go," Tazz argued. "And when you gotta go, Cole, you gotta go."

"Well, Angel’s gone, alright," Michael Cole pointed out. "And it’s gonna be interesting to see how he functions without her in his corner in this match, especially with those injuries he’s carrying courtesy of that cowardly attack by Stone Cold Steve Austin after that steel cage match."

"No doubt it was a brutal assault by Austin," Tazz agreed as Jericho’s countdown started. She looked up to smile at her friend but discovered two things. One, the camera was still on Benoit in the ring and two, she still wanted him, in a big way.

"Shit," she spat as her body started reacting to the mere sight of him in his wrestling trunks. It was screaming, ‘you want him, you want him, go get him’, but she was doing her best to ignore it. She had to ignore it. Benoit belonged with his wife. He and Angel were wrong together, completely wrong. But try telling her body that.

"I gotta get out of here," she muttered, bouncing to her feet and storming towards the door. It suddenly flew open, almost smacking her in the face.

"Whoa!" cried a voice as a hand snaked out to steady her. "Careful there."

Angel scowled and shrugged away from the hand. "What the hell are you doing bursting into the women’s locker room? You don’t look like a female impersonator…much."

"Well, that’s nice of you to say," he told her, giving her an easy smile. "I’ve got a delivery. Full size punching bag?"

"Oh," Angel muttered. "That’s mine."

"Then I guess I’m in the right place after all," he nodded, giving her another smile and easing into the room as he hoisted the bag onto his shoulder.

"You need some help with that?" Angel asked, backing off a bit to give him some space.

"No, I got it. I’m stronger than I look."

"Ooh, I can see that!" Trish cooed suddenly, trotting after him so that when he rested the bag against the wall and turned around, she was right in his face. "I’m Trish Stratus."

"Evan," he replied, shaking her hand before turning to Angel. "You want me to string this up?"

"Yeah, could you?" Angel asked. He was an intern. It was his job to carry out orders.

"No problem," he smiled, getting to work. "So, this thing’s impressive. You can really work it?"

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "It’s great to relieve tension or when you’re pissed with someone."

"By the sounds that happens pretty often," Evan commented. He was softly spoken, with a neat southern accent like a Hardy Boy and Angel found herself smiling.

"More often than you can possibly imagine."

"Angel kicks a lot of ass," Trish enthused. "Of course, some of us don’t like to get our hands that dirty. We like keeping them busy with other things."

"Like Playstation?" Evan asked. "Playstation’s cool."

"I love Playstation!" Trish cried.

"Cool," Evan nodded, stepping down from his chair. "And I’m done. You want to test her out?" he asked Angel.

"Sure," Angel agreed, stepping up as sound roared from the TV.

"Crossface! Crossface! Can he lock it in? He’s got it!"

Angel set her jaw and examined the punching bag.

"Say bye-bye, sexual energy," she muttered. "You’re out of here."

She really let rip, shot after shot burning from her hands, her feet, her knees.

"Wow," called a voice. "Trish is right. You really do kick a lot of ass."

Angel stopped and spun around as ‘Break Down The Wall’ played and an image of Benoit and Jericho hugging filled her eyes.

"You still here?" she asked irritably, but she couldn’t glare at Evan. He was just too nice looking.

"I like to see a job through," Evan told her, before frowning over at Trish. "She’s intense."

"That’s Angel!" Trish grinned.

"Angel," Evan repeated. "Not what I would have called her, but anyway."

"Look," Angel sighed, his subtle ripping on her not going unnoticed. "I have a few more important things to worry about than whether or not an intern thinks my name is made up."

"That’s right, I forgot. I’m nothing but a lowly intern. I guess I’ll leave you ladies in peace. I’m sure they can find a few more jobs around here. You two have yourselves a good night."

"Thanks Evan," Trish cooed. "You too."

"Will do," he smiled, heading for the door. Just as he began to open it there was a knock. "Hey, you got more company. Whaa!" he cried as he saw who it was. "You never saw me, okay, bro?" he hissed, making his escape.

Jeff frowned and slowly shook his head, walking coolly into the locker room. "I know that guy."

"Who, Evan?" Trish asked, interested. "I swear, he is the hottest intern I’ve ever seen."

"He’s not an intern," Jeff frowned. "And that’s not Evan. Evan’s shorter and he used to wear braids a whole lot. You know, little ones. Anyway, never mind." He shrugged it off. "How are you, Angel?"

Angel gave a little smile. "Fine, now I got my punching bag."

"Right," Jeff nodded, leaning against a chair. "’Cause, um, I heard you’re not with Benoit anymore."

"That is correct," Angel told him, while adding in her mind ‘in more ways than one’.

"Well, good," Jeff smiled. "Because, he wasn’t good to you, Angel. He was a real jerk."

"Yup," Angel mused. ‘A jerk I fell inexplicably in love with’.

"So, this means you’re free now?" Jeff asked her.

"As a bird," Angel smiled.

"Well, great. So, you wanna come valet for me and Matt? We’ll pay you again, of course. My next match is Sunday but Matt’s got…"

"Jeff," Angel cut him off. "Thanks for asking, but I’m not gonna valet. I want to wrestle and I’m in the process of working out exactly how I’m going to get a contract. Speaking of which…" she murmured, suddenly distracted by the TV. "I’ll be right back. She raced to the door but stopped to turn around and grab the chair from Jeff, almost knocking him off balance. "I might be needing this." And then she was gone.

"What was that about?" Jeff smiled.

"It’s Angel," Trish shrugged. "Who knows?"

* * * *

The timing was absolutely perfect. The Big Show had just thrown Raven from the ring, so Angel dove right in and unfolded the chair, setting it up near the ropes. Then she took a run up, hit the chair, bounced off the ropes and spun her body through the air until her feet connected with Show’s head in the perfect missile dropkick, bringing him down. She leaped nimbly to her feet again and climbed the steps so she’d be closer to face height when he was standing.

"Come on, Show, you big piece of crap. Get your ass up!" She held out her hands and beckoned him, her expression truly mocking. "Come on!"

Show let out an animalistic roar and charged. At the last second, Angel grabbed the ropes and hauled herself out of the way, launching herself onto the top turnbuckle. She flew back in a corkscrew moonsault, connected with Show and hit the ground running, sprinting all the way back to the locker room.

"How was that?" she panted, noticing with some surprise that Jeff was still there.

"You’re a nut," he told her, unable to conceal the admiration in his eyes. "I mean, the Big Show? I’ve seen his meals and they’re bigger than you, Angel. I’m not kidding."

"Yeah," Angel shrugged. "So he craps bigger than me. That was a King of the Ring qualifying match. And besides, he tore my shirt off a couple of weeks back. I didn’t appreciate that. I mean, I usually have to actually like you before I let you strip me."

"Well, you like me, don’t you?" Jeff asked.

Angel froze. Jeff was putting the hard word on her and it made her sick to her stomach. What was up with that? She was just trying to think of a reply when Trish beat her to it.

"Of course she likes you. In fact, we both do. Who do you want to see first?"

"Uh, can I say both?"

"Of course you can!" Trish cried. "Come on, Angel. Let’s put on a show for Jeff." Her tank top was already half off before Jeff stopped her.

"That’s okay, Trish. I was just kidding. I think," he added, stepping up to Angel and resting his hands on her shoulders, staring deep into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Angel mused, dazed. "I was just thinking." ‘Yep, thinking. Thinking of Benoit tearing my clothes off, throwing me down and screwing my brains out, but I can’t say that out loud because it would probably kill you.’

"Oh," Jeff smiled, sliding one hand up her neck to cup her face. "Just so long as you’re okay."

"I am," Angel told him, though she was sorely tempted to shrink from his touch. It was making her incredibly uncomfortable.

"Hey, Jeffrey Nero. I’m up, you wanna come?"

Jeff turned to the door. "No, man. I think I’ll stay here, keep Angel and Trish company. That cool?"

"Sure, man," Matt nodded. "Women’s locker room. Pops’d be so proud."

"Kiss my ass, Matt," Jeff grinned.

"Good luck, Matt," Trish piped up.

"Thanks, Trish. See you later, Angel."

"Bye, Matt," Angel muttered, before turning to Jeff. "Who’s Matt got?"

"K-Kwik."

"Really?" Angel grinned, getting a hard look in her eyes. "Hey, Jeff. Wanna come screw K-Kwik with me?"

Jeff paused a moment to ponder this before responding. "Angel? It’s K-Kwik. Matt’s got it covered."

Angel nodded thoughtfully. "Matt retains his title if I get him disqualified, right?"

"Yes, but…"

Angel grabbed him by the face and kissed his forehead. "Back soon. Run in number two, coming up."

Jeff watched her leave before finishing his sentence. "…I really don’t think he needs it."

* * * *

K-Kwik rolled Matt up for a two count as Angel leaped into the ring, grabbed K-Kwik’s head and sent him for a swinging neckbreaker. She dragged him to his feet, formed a waistlock and bam! One German. Bam! Two Germans. Bam! Three Germans into a bridge. She easily counted the three in her head before someone grabbed her and dragged her free, standing her on her feet.

"What are you thinking, Angel?" Matt demanded.

"Matt, it’s not about…"

Suddenly, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and dove frantically out of the way. Matt caught the brunt of the flying clothesline on his back. It sent him hurtling towards Lita and he only just managed to stop himself before they collided. By this time, Angel was almost all the way up the ramp. She kept running, all the way back to the locker room.

"See?" she cried. "I can fly, I can wrestle."

"What are you doing, Angel?" Jeff frowned. "If that ref had caught you, Matt would have…"

"It’s not about Matt," Angel waved him off. "I’m only doing it for one thing. In fact…" She held up her hand for silence and counted down quietly. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…"

There was a knock at the door.

"Huh," Angel murmured. "He’s early." She quickly stepped up to answer it.

"Angel Torres? Commissioner Regal wants to see you in his office. Says it’s urgent."

Angel gave a nod and leaned confidently against the doorframe. "You can tell Regal, that unless he’s going to give me my match he can suck my dick." With that, she closed the door and turned back to her friends. "I hope he quotes me on that. I just love offending wankers like Regal."

* * * *

"What?" Angel shrieked. "Oh no. No bloody way. If he thinks he’s gonna get away with…" She broke off, forming a sick smirk. "Excuse me. This vigilante is about to take down a thief." She stormed furiously from the locker room, leaving Jeff and Trish to look on in amazement.

"If I were Regal, I’d skip town," Jeff commented.

"No kidding," Trish grinned. "But that’s Angel, eh? She sees something she wants and then she goes and gets it. You better not even try to stand in her way."

Jeff broke into a smile, green eyes sparkling. "We could all learn a thing or two from that," he told Trish, leaning back against the wall. "How is she really, Trish? ‘Cause she seems really distant to me. Except for when it’s about wrestling, then suddenly she’s all gung ho again."

Trish shrugged. "Well, she was hanging out with Chris Benoit for four months, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," Jeff sighed. "It’s just…I don’t know. A week ago I kissed her and she just completely froze up. I didn’t know what to do."

Trish pouted sympathetically. "She’s in a weird place right now, Jeff. All the stuff with Benoit, it’s really taken a lot out of her."

"What can I do?" Jeff asked. "I want her so bad, but I know I can’t push it or I’ll lose her forever."

"Exactly," Trish nodded. "You need to back off a bit, maybe even start seeing other people."

"I don’t want other people. I want her."

"I know, Jeff, but right now Angel just needs some time alone, to work out who she is, without you or me or Matt or Lita or Chris or Chris."

"This sucks," Jeff scowled. "I blame Benoit for this. If it wasn’t for him…"

"I know," Trish cut in. "But don’t worry, Jeff. She’ll come around eventually, when she realizes exactly what she’s missing."

"I don’t know what her problem is, you know?" Jeff muttered, hardly hearing Trish. "I mean, when we were together, it was like there was no one else. Those few times we made out…it was, well, it was incredible. And she knows I want her back, I’ve told her, but she just doesn’t seem to care. Why can’t it be like it was, you know?"

"Jeff," Trish said slowly. "My dad always said to me, that we can’t go back. We have to keep on plowing forward. And the world’s not gonna stop turning while we remember all the mistakes we’ve made. So, we have two choices. Either we just sit back and let the world carry us around or we run on ahead, making our own lives, making our own opportunities."

Jeff frowned. "I’m not sure I understand."

"Jeff. What you need is a plan. And I’m going to help you."

"You are?"

"I’m not just a pretty face, you know? Trust me, by the time I’m finished, Angel’s going to be so stuck on you, you won’t know what to do with yourself."

"Oh, I hope so," Jeff muttered. "’Cause frankly, I’m fresh out of ideas."

* * * *

"This is bullshit!" Angel snapped, slamming her hands down on the desk.

"Miss Torres, your outfit, your language, please!"

Angel glowered at him. "I know you’re just doing this to piss me off and guess what, jackass? It worked. Change it. Now."

"I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about," Regal muttered. "And please, if you wouldn’t mind…"

"You know exactly what I’m talking about," Angel growled. "That match was mine and instead you gave it to him." She pointed to a very startled Tajiri.

"Wrong, young lady. The match was open to whomever I invited to participate. I chose Tajiri."

"But we’ve never even seen him wrestle! You’ve seen me, you know what I can do. You know I can beat Crash Holly, hell, you know I can beat you and…"

"Miss Torres," Regal said evenly. "The matter is closed. The final King of the Ring qualifying match is Crash Holly against Tajiri. That is final."

"Fine," Angel mused. "Make it a triple threat. I’ll beat both of them."

"No," Regal insisted. "The match is set. Now, kindly remove yourself from my office."

"But…"

"Out, Miss Torres."

Angel opened her mouth to argue some more, then gave an emphatic nod. "This isn’t over, assclown. You enjoyed my run ins before? You ain’t seen nothing yet." With that, she stormed furiously out of the room.

"There you are, girlie, I’ve been looking all over for you. You just been to see Regal? He’s one hell of a guy, ain’t he? Now listen, hey, where you going, girlie? Hold it right there."

"Shove it up your ass, Austin," Angel scowled, without turning around.

"Huh, what was that, girlie?"

"Oh, you’re deaf, huh? Well, in that case, I’ll tell you in sign language." She spun around, gave him his own patented two-finger salute, then ran off again.

Austin was bewildered. "Well, hell, I only wanted you to sign a damn petition, you little bitch. My name is Stone Cold Steve Austin and…"

But it didn’t matter what his name was. Angel was long gone.

* * * *

Angel sprinted down the ramp and jumped onto the apron. She climbed up top quickly, watching her opponents clinically as Tajiri hooked Crash over the ropes in a submission hold. ‘Rana or dropkick? ‘Rana or dropkick? Whichever way, Crash wasn’t going to like it. ‘Dropkick,’ she decided, taking off. Bam! Her boots slammed into Crash’s skull, causing Tajiri to release the hold and fall headfirst to the ground next to the steps. But Angel wasn’t watching Tajiri. Instead, she grabbed Crash and dragged him into the ring a little way, got the leg scissors on his arm and locked on the crossface. Crash started tapping frantically, but Angel just pulled back even harder. Suddenly she heard footsteps and relaxed the hold, ready to leap if need be. Tajiri was approaching her calmly. Obviously, he too had underestimated her. Bam! He was flat on his back, courtesy one spear. He only weighed abut two hundred, meaning Angel could lift him, at least for a little bit, so she scooped him up clumsily and started running towards the ring post, ready to post him. She heard movement again and bam! A boot to Crash’s groin had him flat on his back. She continued her movement and boom! Tajiri was posted. He squealed in agony as Angel made the cover and glared up at the ref.

"Count it."

"But you’re not…"

"Count it!"

The ref just shrugged and dropped to the canvas. "One…two…"

But somehow, Tajiri kicked out. Angel scowled and scooped him up, forming the waistlock. Bam! Angel hit the throwaway German and Tajiri slammed down on top of Crash. Angel pounced on both of them, made the cover and hooked all four legs.

"One!" cried the ref. "Two!"

But suddenly, Angel was grabbed by the leg and dragged from the ring. Regal held her roughly.

"I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, my girl…"

Angel said nothing. She simply reached up, grabbed him by the head and hit the Jeff Hardy style jawbreaker off the apron.

"You should know by now, jackass," she sneered, clambering onto the apron. "I’m always ready to play. Now, get your ass up."

The second Regal found his feet, Angel hit the hurricanranna, dragging him back down again. Then she stood over him, gave another two-finger salute and ran back up the ramp. She threw the door to the locker room open, her expression set and focused.

"All that nastiness could have been avoided if he’d just given me my damn match."

"You’re unbelievable, Angel," Jeff breathed. "You just stepped out there with three grown men. Not only did you not get hurt, you kicked ass! How’d you do it?"

Angel grinned. "Me, Benoit and Jericho. Benoit taught me how to be a shooter. I taught myself when to run and how to listen real closely for movement. And Jericho? He gave me this." She held up her necklace and kissed it once. "Saved me again."

Jeff couldn’t take his eyes off her as she picked up her bag and shouldered it.

"Hey, Trish," she called, obviously not noticing him. "I think I’ve proved my point. I had wanted a match of my own tonight but since I’m obviously not going to get one I might as well call it a night. Can I bum a ride with you? ‘Cause, I came over with Jericho, but I think he’s already left. That’s if it’s okay with Blackman, of course."

"Um, Angel," Trish frowned. "Me and Steve…"

"That’s okay, Angel," Jeff cut in. "You can ride with me. Matt and Lita are just back waiting in our locker room and I’m sure they’re ready to go."

"Great." She smiled at him, she actually smiled at him, just like she used to. "I’ll see you later, Trish."

"Bye Angel," Trish called, watching them leave. She lowered her gaze to the mirror and examined her reflection. "Me and Steve aren’t together anymore. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll go find Evan."

* * * *

"Angel! You’ve got some explaining to do and you better do it real quick."

Angel sighed. "Hey Crash."

"Don’t you ‘hey Crash’ me. You cost me my place in the King of the Ring tournament. Last year I went out to Kurt Angle in the semis, and he won the thing. This year, I was determined to go all the way. Only I didn’t and it’s all your fault. Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Sorry I made you tap out," Angel nodded.

"That’s right you’re sorry, what?" Crash shrieked, suddenly realizing what she’d said. "And get that smirk off your face, Hardy. This has nothing to do with you."

"It’s not about you either, Crash," Angel told him calmly. "This is about Regal, refusing to give me what I wanted, so I retaliated. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. So, if you want to blame someone, blame Regal."

"Now, I won’t blame Regal. I blame you. Hey, come back here." He ducked around and got right in her face. "You think that just ‘cause you’re taller than me you can push me around? Well, you can’t. I’m at least as tough as anyone else in the World Wrestling Federation, especially a little girl like you."

"Little girl, huh?" Angel mused.

"That’s right. When I first became a wrestler, people laughed at me. They laughed! They said I’d never make it. Well, guess what? I’m still here. I have been the World Wrestling Federation hardcore champion twelve times. Without me, the 24/7 rule wouldn’t even exist. And I was the light heavyweight champion too, not so long ago," he announced, eyeing Jeff’s title belt nostalgically. "So, all those people who laughed at me? I showed them. And I’ll show you too, Angel. I want you in a match on Sunday Night Heat. So, how about it, Kangaroo Girl?"

Angel eyed him coolly. "Sorry, Crash, but that won’t be happening."

"Why not?" Crash demanded. "You yeller or something? A little yeller chicken? Bock-bock!"

"Hey, back off, Holly," Jeff growled suddenly.

"Did I ask you?" Crash cried. "Hey, Jeff? Did I? Well, did I?"

"It won’t be happening," Angel went on coolly. "Because I’m uncontracted. Before I fight in any match I have to sign a release. And the only way you’ll get me to do that is if I’m given once of two things. An entry to the King of the Ring tournament or a long-term contract. Now, maybe you can persuade Commissioner Regal to give me that, because I’m about ready to give up. I’ll see you later, Crash."

"Wait!" Crash cried. "I want to fight you. I want to take you on. Then we’ll see who makes who tap out, Angel. That’s right. We’ll see."