RUSE OF THE YEAR

SMACKDOWN, JUNE 21ST, 2001

"…So, I guess he couldn’t take my flirting anymore because he suddenly said, ‘Trish. You have to make a choice. Either you want me or you don’t. But if you do want me, it has to be just me.’ But I just think that’s so unfair because I talk to other guys all the time, right? It doesn’t mean I’m with them. And Steve should have known. I mean, he surely knew where I was spending my nights. And that’s all that matters, not whether or not I think that young referee – what’s his name – I don’t remember, but it doesn’t matter if I think he’s hot, because if I’m with Steve I’m with Steve. Right, Angel?"

"Hmm?" Angel asked, looking up suddenly. "Oh, right. Doesn’t matter." She looked down again as Trish continued.

"Exactly. But Steve didn’t see it that way, so he gave me one of those ultimatum things. Now, I don’t know how you are with those, but I hate them. So, I said, ‘Steve. I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment. Maybe we should cool things off a little.’ And so we did. Only, not a little. A lot. I haven’t seen him since and that was, what, Wednesday, Thursday…nine days ago."

"That sucks, Trish," Angel murmured, eyes still downcast.

"It’s okay," Trish shrugged. "I’ve had bigger breakups. We weren’t together long and I think I’m more or less over him. How about you? How are you doing?"

Angel finally looked up, her expression focused but unreadable. "Did you know that the only match booked for tonight so far is a tag title match?"

Trish frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"What it means," Angel told her. "Is that if I want a match, tonight’s the night to do it, without Regal giving me any shit about the card being full. And then, if I perform well enough, maybe they’ll include me in the pay per view on Sunday. So, what I’ve got to decide is who I want to challenge. If I challenge a woman like Terri or whoever, I’ll probably win, but chances are they’ll pass me over for a pay per view match, but if I face a man, he might be twice my size and, to tell you the truth, I’m still not feeling so hot from that concussion Monday night. So, what do you think, Trish?"

"Angel," Trish frowned sympathetically. "I know what you’re doing. But you can’t always avoid the question."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Angel told her, staring at her paper.

Trish gave an impatient sigh. "I asked you how you’re doing now you and Chris are over. It’s been a week and a half. You must be feeling something."

Angel looked up for a fraction of a second and gave a crisp nod. "I’m fine," she replied curtly, looking down again. "So, who do you think deserves the wrath of Angel? My only limit is that it can’t be either Chris, or the older Dudley Boyz. Who should I choose?"

Before Trish could respond, another voice cut in. "I think you should choose Shane Helms. I hear he’s good. Real good. In fact, isn’t he the WCW cruiserweight champion?"

"Shane!" Trish cried, jumping up to hug him.

"Hey Pam," Shane replied, hugging her tightly, before turning to Angel. "Don’t you think she looks like Pamela Anderson?"

"I guess," Angel shrugged.

Shane formed his gentle smile and leaned towards Angel. "How’s your head doing?"

"Better," Angel replied coolly.

"Good," Shane nodded, before forming a frown. "Look, I’m sorry about what happened at the hospital. You had one of the worst concussions I’ve seen in a while and I shouldn’t have sprung that real identity stuff on you."

Angel shrugged. "I was more upset about you being Shane Helms than about you lying to me."

"Lying," Shane repeated. "You make me sound like a real jerk. You’ve gotta understand why I did what I did."

"Sure I understand," Angel shrugged again. "You do what you gotta do. What I don’t understand is why people think I’d be interested in you. You’re not my type in the slightest."

"Again, ouch," Shane frowned.

"Don’t worry about Angel," Trish cooed, putting her arm through Shane’s. "She’s very, very choosy. Me, on the other hand…"

Shane gave her an incredulous grin. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Well, sure," Trish chirped perkily, touching her hand to his face.

"That’s it!" Angel cried suddenly, causing them both to stare at her. She sprang to her feet. "I’ve got it!" She leaped over the table, grabbed Trish’s face and kissed her cheek, then did the same to Shane before walking quickly from the room without another word.

Shane and Trish looked on with identical confusion.

"She’s a little different, isn’t she?" Shane commented.

"That’s our Angel!" Trish agreed, giving him a zillion watt smile. "I think the word ‘different’ was made for her."

* * * *

"What I want is this," Angel said coolly. "A match, tonight…"

"Impossible!" Regal interrupted.

"Hear me out," Angel spat, eyes blazing dangerously. "I know Mr. McMahon is going to be here tonight, just like he was on Monday, so I can sign another release and you can give me my match."

"Miss Torres, that won’t happen. The card is…"

"Practically empty," Angel gloated, holding up her booking sheet. "So, unless you’ve found a whole bunch of matches in the last twenty minutes you must have room for me. The least you can do is listen to what I want."

"Okay, Miss Torres," Regal muttered sulkily. "Perhaps you should go on."

"I want Christian," Angel told him. "One on one. Stipulation match. If I win, I get his King of the Ring semi final berth."

"And if he wins?" Regal asked skeptically.

"He gets the satisfaction of knowing he didn’t get his ass kicked by a girl."

"He would never agree to that," Regal warned her.

"Well, we’ll see about that. Why don’t you go get him and we’ll find out?"

"Why don’t I indeed?" Regal replied. "Tajiri, go fetch Christian. He’s the one with the nice blonde hair who says ‘totally’ and ‘awesome’ a lot."

Tajiri gave a quick nod and set off.

"Now, Miss Torres," regal mused. "I suppose we shall soon find out."

"I suppose we shall," Angel echoed, perching herself on the edge of Regal’s desk and reaching for his teapot. "You don’t mind, do you, Willie?"

"Mind? Of course I bloody well mind," Regal snapped, reaching over to grab the teapot from her.

Angel didn’t release her hold, forcing Regal to touch the hot body of the pot. He pulled sharply away, glaring at Angel.

"Come now," she scolded him. "Didn’t your mum ever teach you to share with your friends?"

"Give that back," Regal growled, reaching for it again, but Angel kept pulling it away, just out of his reach. "Miss Torres! I refuse to play these childish games with you."

Angel stopped still. "You’re absolutely right," she nodded. "I shall desist at once."

"Well, it’s about bloody time," Regal snapped, reaching for the pot one last time. Angel waited for him to grip the handle before she suddenly shoved it forward, causing the pot to spill all over Regal. He leaped to his feet, shocked, as the water burned him.

"Oh my God!" Angel shrieked as her hands flew to her mouth. "I’m so sorry! Are you burnt?"

"Yes, I’m bloody burnt!" Regal spluttered.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Angel asked innocently, taking a few steps backwards and inwardly reveling in the chaos she’d created.

"Yes!" Regal hissed. "You can get the bloody hell out of my office. Go, Miss Torres!"

"But…"

"Go!"

Angel shrugged and turned to leave, but just then…

"You wanted to see us, Your Commissionership?"

Regal scowled at Edge and Christian with agony in his eyes. "Yes, I believe I did."

"Whoa!" cried Edge. "Dude, did you wet yourself?"

"No, of course not," Regal snapped. "I had a mishap with my tea."

"Yeah," Edge nodded. "Someone put your hand in it and you wet yourself. Regal tea, right, Christian?"

"Yeah, more like Regal pee," Christian snickered.

"Tajiri!" Regal interrupted them by calling on his houseboy. "Did I not send you for only Christian?"

Tajiri had leaped into action and was trying to mop Regal dry, using his own shirt.

Edge grinned at the scene. "You want me to leave, compissioner…I mean, commissioner?"

Regal suddenly froze, a pained smirk etched on his face. "No, my boy. You may stay. Miss Torres," he went on, turning to her. "Your request for a stipulation match is denied."

"Great," Angel muttered, slapping her hands down on her thighs. "I don’t know why I bothered."

"Not so fast, my girl," Regal stopped her. "I’ve decided, in the circumstances, to give you a match against Edge and Christian. If that suits you two young men."

"You want us to fight her?" Christian asked skeptically.

Regal gave a nod. "I want you to tear her apart."

"Wait a minute," Angel cut in. "I’m not signing for a handicap match."

"You wanted a match, did you not?" Regal roared, but Angel stood her ground.

"I wanted a fair match. You’ve already denied the one I really wanted."

"Fine!" Regal snapped. "We’ll make it a tag match. Does that suit you?"

Angel paused. "I don’t have a problem with that. Who’s my partner?"

"Your choice," Regal mused.

"Great," Angel grinned. "Boys?"

Edge and Christian exchanged glances.

"We’ll totally fight the hosebeast and one of her imaginary friends," Edge announced.

"Totally invisiblicious," Christian agreed.

"Well, that’s settled, then. Edge, Christian, you may go. Miss Torres, I had a feeling you would choose to bother me today, so I took the liberty of arranging another release. All it requires is your signature."

"Done," Angel smiled, signing on the dotted line.

"It’s settled," Regal nodded, folding the paper and filing it away. "You and the partner of your choice will be facing Edge and Christian tonight. Of course, you are aware that Chris Jericho and Chris Benoit will be unavailable as they are defending their tag team titles against the Dudley Boyz."

"I know," Angel told him. "It doesn’t matter."

Regal pursed his lips. "Then perhaps you’re not aware that just twenty minutes ago I booked a six man tag match which will involve the Hardy Boyz and Kane against the X-Factor."

"Oh," Angel muttered. That counted out her first choice. Jeff. He’d do anything for her and the fact that it involved beating up Edge and Christian would have just increased his eagerness.

"Yes, oh," Regal gloated. "You hadn’t counted on that, had you? Don’t worry, Miss Torres. I’m sure that both you and Miss Stratus will have a lovely match."

Angel raised her eyebrows. Trish? Was he crazy? There was no way Angel could do that to her friend.

"I won’t worry, Willie," she replied as an idea struck her. "I’ll just call for a ringer."

"I’ll believe it when I see it," Regal challenged. "But now, Miss Torres, I do have a lot of work to do, so if you wouldn’t mind…"

"Of course," Angel nodded. "I’ve gotta go find a tag partner anyway. Catch ya later, jackass. Oh, and Tajiri? You might have to go make some more tea. I think your boss had an accident." Taking Regal’s besmirched expression as all the incentive she needed to keep going, Angel left the office.

* * * *

"So, how’d it go?" Shane asked when Angel returned to the catering area.

She gave him a funny look, sizing him up. "Where’s Trish?"

"She went to check her makeup," Shane told her. "So she’ll probably be awhile. Why? What’s up?"

Angel met his gaze, her expression serious. "You remember how I told you you’re the bane of my existence?"

Shane broke into one of his smiles. "How could I forget?"

"Well," Angel went on. "I’m going to give you the chance to redeem yourself. Do you have your wrestling gear with you?"

"Yeah," Shane nodded. "We’re supposed to always be prepared for a run in if we feel like making one, so that means bringing our gear. Why, what’s going on?"

Angel broke into a grin. "Shane McMahon will give you a bonus for a run in, right?" Shane nodded again and she went on. "I can do better than a run in. I just got you a match."

"What?" Shane cried. "A match?"

"That’s right," Angel confirmed. "I got a tag match against Edge and Christian with the partner of my choice. Chris Jericho and Jeff Hardy are both busy, so that means I’m giving you the nod. That’s if you want it, of course."

"Yeah, I want it," Shane told her, nodding rapidly, only partly offended that she’d made it perfectly clear that he was her third choice. "Edge and Christian, huh? I’m betting you know them better than I do."

"Probably," Angel shrugged. "But I want to know more about you. I’ve never seen you fight. What style are you. A luchador?"

"Kind of," Shane told her. "But I like to think I have some mat skills too."

"Excellent," Angel smiled. "Sounds like me. I guess we’ll be a good team after all."

"I guess," Shane agreed, smiling at her.

Angel tilted her head a little. "So, um. You and Trish. Are you…you know, together or whatever?"

"Me and Trish?" Shane repeated. "No! I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s a great girl. She’s just not my type."

Angel nodded thoughtfully. "Not your token Sugar Babe, huh?"

"Exactly," Shane grinned.

Angel gave another nod before changing the subject again. "I think you should get changed in the men’s room and then put your clothes back on over your trunks. If the guys around here worked out who you are you’d get your ass kicked."

"You’re probably right," Shane agreed. "So, I’ll come by your locker room when SmackDown starts?"

"You bet," Angel nodded. "See you then, partner." She held out a hand and gripped Shane’s, then walked away.

* * * *

"Geez," Angel muttered as Rhyno’s music hit. "This just got good."

"Hey, partner!" Shane called, pushing the door open and entering the locker room.

Angel held up her hand, silencing him.

"Oh," he muttered, leaning down on the back of her chair. "It’s our opponents, right?"

Angel nodded. "And until now, all four of those guys were friends. I think we’re about to see the disintegration of Team RECK."

Shane stood quietly and watched with Angel and Trish as Rhyno began to speak.

"Angle," he growled, before signaling Edge and Christian. "It’s real simple. They never needed you." He went on in that funny disjointed manner. "And yeah, I may be wrestling Edge in the semi finals, but if there’s one thing for sure, the three of us are gonna make damn sure you don’t repeat." With that, he threw down the microphone and, keeping his eyes locked on Kurt’s, gored Edge.

"Oh my God!" Angel cried as Christian went to retaliate, only to be stopped by Kurt and thrown in the Angle Slam. Kurt evacuated the ring, leaving Rhyno to look over the fallen bodies of Edge and Christian.

"Geez," Angel muttered again. "I honestly never thought I’d see that."

"It’s good for us, though," Shane commented. "Those guys softened them up real nice."

"I can’t believe my two favorite people have a tag match together," Trish piped up. "That is so cool!"

Angel and Shane gave her matching smiles, then began talking strategy as SmackDown continued on the TV. Finally, when they were done with that, they began to stretch up, having been told that their match would follow the X-Factor match, which was now blaring from the TV.

"You ready to go?" Angel asked, giving Shane a smile.

"You bet."

"Great. Now we just have to wait to be called." Just then there was a knock at the door. "Well, that’ll be the messenger now."

She opened up to find head WWF gofer Harvey Wippleman, dazed and completely out of breath, as though he’d run a marathon.

"Harvey," Angel greeted him. "Is it time for my match?"

"No," Harvey gasped. "That’s why I’m here. Commissioner Regal sent me. Your match. It’s been cancelled."

"What?" Angel spat.

"I’m sorry, Angel," Harvey went on nervously. "Edge and Christian decided that their new feud with Angle and Rhyno was more important than their old one with you, and the commissioner agreed, so that match got preference over yours. He told me…he said to tell you that he sends his humblest apologies."

"I bet he does," Angel scowled. "Thanks, Harvey." She slammed the door shut and turned back to Trish and Shane, a murderous expression on her face. "Guess what? They pulled our match."

Shane and Trish had heard, so they just watched as Angel went into a rage, throwing furniture around before spotting her punching bag and settling into a furious rhythm, cursing at the top of her lungs.

"Um, Angel?" Trish ventured after a while.

"What?" Angel screamed, causing Trish to flinch noticeably.

"Maybe you could go talk to Regal," Trish went on gently. "Convince him to go with your match after all."

"What’s the use?" Angel asked, punctuating each word with a hard right to the bag. "He holds all the cards. I have no power. None at all."

Shane nervously cleared his throat. "Well, I still have my trunks on. We could pull a run in at Edge and Christian’s match. That’d really teach them."

"You know what?" Angel roared, suddenly turning on him. "I am sick of run ins. I am sick of dealing with jackasses like William Regal. None of it accomplishes anything. It doesn’t matter how much I want it, nobody cares. Not in the slightest. I’m sick of it! And above all…above all! I am sick of the World Wrestling Federation. I’ve had it. Do you have Shane McMahon’s cell phone number?" She didn’t even give him a chance to respond before turning to Trish. "Can I borrow your phone?"

Trish ran off to get it, before handing it to Angel. "You just key in the number and then press this button here."

"I know how to use a cell phone," Angel told her coolly, before looking at Shane expectantly.

"At your service," Shane smiled, handing her a card which was identical to the one Angel had been given, except for one thing. This one had a cell phone number printed on the back.

Angel broke into a smile and hurriedly pressed the buttons on the phone, then held it up to her ear. It was ringing. Once...twice...three times...

"’Lo?" called a voice.

"Shane McMahon?" Angel asked breathlessly.

"This is Shane O’Mac. Who’s this?"

"Angel Torres. Do you…do you remember me?"

"Yeah! Yeah, of course! I’ve been watching the work you’ve been doing lately and I’ll tell you what. I’m impressed, Angel. Real impressed. Whenever you want a trial with WCW, it’s yours, okay?"

"Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?"

"Ooh," he mused. "I really don’t. There’s something I gotta do tonight, and I gotta be on my toes, you know? But, I’ll tell you what, Angel. How about, once I’ve done what I gotta do, I give you a call back and we can arrange a meeting. How’s that sound?"

"Um, sure," Angel replied. Well, it wasn’t as though she had any better offers.

"Great. That’s terrific, Angel. Hey, before you go, maybe you can help me out with something. You know your way around, right?"

"I guess," Angel muttered, wondering what he was going to ask.

"Well, I need a little help. Do you have any idea where I can find one of those kendo sticks?"

"Kendo sticks?" Angel echoed dumbly.

"Yeah, you know the ones. Pack a real punch when you hit someone with them."

"Oh, yeah, I know." Angel thought about it. "You’d probably find one in Steve Blackman’s locker room."

"Blackman," he repeated. "That’s if I can get in and out without getting my ass kicked. Hey, I guess I could always send Stacy or Mike Awesome, right?"

"Right," Angel repeated, though she had no idea who Mike was, or why he was so awesome.

"Great, well, that’s great, Angel. I’m real glad you called and I’ll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Shane." She clicked off and frowned over at Trish. "I’m going to have to keep this tonight, okay?"

Trish nodded. "But wait, Angel. What if someone calls for me?"

"You’re right," Angel sighed, handing over the phone. Only seconds later, it rang and Trish answered, her voice chirpy.

"Hello? Yes, this is she. Oh, of course! Yes!"

Angel formed a smile and turned to Shane Helms. "Well, it looks like we’ll be working together. You’re not looking for a tag partner, are you?"

"Well, actually," Shane muttered. "Me and Shannon Moore were planning on…"

"Never mind," Angel cut in. "I’ll probably want to get in on the singles action anyway. You said you’re the cruiserweight champion, right?"

"Well, yeah," Shane frowned.

"Excellent," Angel grinned, her eyes sparkling. "You wouldn’t mind…"

"Angel?" Trish piped up, having finished her phone conversation. "Are you really going to WCW? For real, this time?"

"Looks that way," Angel shrugged.

"But we won’t be able to hang out together anymore," Trish pouted.

"Of course we will," Angel told her. "I mean, Shane’s with WCW, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" Trish cried. "Well, that’s okay, then."

"You think you can beat me for my title?" Shane asked her.

Angel broke into a confident grin. "Helms, I held my own with two former ECW champions at once. I think I can handle you."

"Oh, is that so?" Shane grinned. "Well, I don’t know how I can refuse a challenge like that. As soon as you come over to WCW, that title shot is yours."

"Well, thanks, Shane," Angel replied. "But if I were you, I wouldn’t get too attached to that belt. Because, once I get a contract I fully intend winning gold, and if I have to start with yours, then so be it."

"Is that so?" Shane asked again.

"Yes, it’s so," Angel replied, rising to her full height and looking him right in the eye.

"Really?" Shane challenged.

"Really."

"You really think you could beat me?"

"Trust me, Shane," Angel smirked. "There’s an ass kicking with your name on it, just waiting to be performed by me. So, the question is, do you wanna play?"

"Angel, Shane, cut it out!" Trish cried, her voice infused with worry. They turned to her guiltily as she went on. "I don’t want you two to fight. Just a minute ago you were talking about being tag partners."

"She’s the one who thinks she can beat me," Shane argued.

"And I can," Angel put in coolly.

"Angel," Shane sneered. "Dear little Angel. I will play with you, anywhere, anytime. You name it. I’ll be there."

"Stop it!" Trish cried, but suddenly some loud commentary blared from the TV.

"Wait a minute! It’s Shane McMahon!"

All three turned to watch as Shane O’Mac delivered a kendo stick beating to a very startled Kurt Angle.

"Wow!" Angel breathed. "I can see why he wanted the kendo stick. He’s right, it really does pack a punch."

"You’re not wrong," Shane enthused. "It’s a good thing we didn’t decide to pull the run in on that match. We might have stolen the boss’s thunder."

"Yeah," Angel muttered. "I know from experience it’s not a good idea to piss off the boss."

"You’d ever piss someone off?" Shane teased. "I don’t buy it."

"Kiss my ass, Sugar," Angel smirked.

"Kick your ass, more like it."

"In…your…fantasies," Angel replied, eyebrows raised.

"Stop!" Trish shrieked. "I mean it, you guys. Please stop."

Angel struggled to swallow her laughter. "Sorry, Trish. I’ll be good."

"Me too," Shane added, finding it equally difficult to keep from laughing.

"Good," Trish sighed. "I just can’t take you guys fighting. Anyone else, that’s okay, but not you two." Suddenly, her phone rang. Angel and Shane stared at each other as she answered. "Hello? Why, yes she is. I’ll just put her on. Angel," she called, waving the phone in the air.

Angel leaped over and grabbed it from her. "Hello?"

"Angel? Shane McMahon."

"Hi!" she cried enthusiastically. "Great run in before. You rock with a kendo stick."

"Hey, thanks. I’ve been practicing. Anyway, Angel, the reason I called is this. It looks like I’m not going to be able to meet with you tonight. I’m taking the red-eye to Atlanta, then I’ve got meetings lined up all day tomorrow. Sunday’s King of the Ring, so I’ll tell you what? Why don’t you give me a call on my cell, say, Monday? I’ll meet up with you, we’ll talk business, maybe arrange things to put you in the ring, then see what happens from there, okay? How’s that sound?"

Angel took a deep breath, a little overwhelmed.

"Angel? Are you there?"

"Yeah, I’m here. I…"

"Okay, Angel. I have to go right now, but I’ll speak with you on Monday, once things settle down. Okay, Angel? I’ll talk to you later. Bye." And he hung up on her without another word.

Angel was a little dazed as she handed the phone back to Trish. "Shane? When you signed with the new WCW, were you given the run around?"

"No," Shane shrugged. "They looked at the work I’d already done. But it helped that I had the title."

"I swear," Angel sighed. "If I ever actually see a contract from that guy, or even just sit down face to face to talk to business, I swear I’ll die of shock."

"Hey," Shane soothed her. "Don’t be so down. These things take time. You know, we already have two divas and…"

"I am not a goddamn diva!" Angel screamed. "I’m a wrestler. How many times do I have to say that?"

"Okay, chill," Shane replied calmly, grabbing her by the wrist. "What I meant was, our roster’s full and has been for some time, so I guess it’ll take a lot of thought before they’ll let someone else in, especially someone who’s untried."

"Screw that," Angel snapped. "I’m good. I’m real good. Why can’t people see that?"

"It’s not about how good you are," Shane told her. "’Cause, from what I’ve seen, you’re real good. It’s about your timing because, frankly, it sucks. We haven’t even had our first show. From what I’ve heard we’re still looking for a network, so no one’s even had a chance…"

"Helms!" Angel interrupted. "I’m sick of excuses. If Shane McMahon doesn’t want me, why the hell doesn’t he just say so?"

Shane took a deep breath. "What exactly did he say to you?"

Angel mirrored his sigh. "He told me to call him on Monday. Again. What’s the use, when he’s just going to screw me around like he did tonight?"

"You don’t know that," Shane argued.

"Yeah, I don’t, but when things start to form a nice pretty pattern, you kind of expect them to continue."

Shane slowly shook his head. "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as pessimistic as you."

Angel gave a shrug and a wry smile. "You try spending four months with Chris Benoit and see how much you love life." She hadn’t even known she’d been thinking of him, but now that the words were out of her mouth, she burst spontaneously into tears.

"Oh, Angel!" Trish blurted, leaping forward to wrap her arms around her friend. "Don’t cry. It’s okay."

"I’m sorry," Angel murmured. "I don’t know what’s going on with me, Trish. I really don’t."

"You’ll get contracted," Trish told her. "I know it. You’re such a good wrestler, just from everything you’ve taught me. You just have to be patient."

Angel sighed. "I just really wanted to be at King of the Ring, you know?"

"I know," Trish replied. "But you have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself. On Monday you can call Shane McMahon and then see what happens. He’s probably not avoiding you, he’s just real busy with looking for a TV network and his match against Kurt. Things will probably calm down after Sunday."

"You’re right," Angel announced, giving a little nod. "I’m just…I guess I’m just burnt out over tonight, you know? I came in here knowing I shouldn’t even try for a run in after the knock to my head on Monday, but then I got the match, and it was just looking so good… Hey," she went on, fixing her gaze on Shane. "Why aren’t you pissed off about our match getting cancelled?"

Shane shrugged. "I am. But I guess, for me, I learned not to have any expectations. Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how good or over you are, you’re just not gonna have a match. Plus, I don’t have a concussion so I can think straight."

Angel gave him a sarcastic smile as something on the TV caught her eye. "Perry Saturn," she mused. "Possibly the only person in the WWF who’s a bigger headcase than me." Shane and Trish went to reply, but Angel held her hand up. "Shh, I want to hear what crazy Perry has to say this time." She listened intently, then broke into laughter. "Doggies eat applesauce to save the ozone layer? And that guy’s supposed to have a hardcore title match against Test tonight? That’s classic! Wait a minute!" she blurted suddenly. "Oh my God! Oh My God, you guys!"

"What?" Trish asked worriedly.

"I just had the best idea. Tonight, I am going to pull off the ruse of the year. And you, my friends, are going to help me."

"You want to pull a run in on the hardcore match?" Shane frowned.

"No," Angel breathed, jumping to her feet. "This is better than a run in, much better. Now, we don’t have much time. Trish, I need you to get on your phone and book us into a different hotel for the next three nights. Shane, what hotel are you staying at?"

"This one," Shane replied, handing her a card.

"Great. That’s not the same as ours. Trish, get us booked in here. The closer the rooms are together, the better. I know I can count on you to work your magic."

"No problem, Angel," Trish grinned, but Angel wasn’t done with her instructions.

"Then, once you’ve got that covered, I need you to go get our rental car, bring it around to the back door and get ready to gun it, okay?"

"Okay," Trish echoed, intrigued.

"Excellent. Shane," she went on, turning to him. "You’re coming with me."

* * * *

Referee Jim Korderas was just walking down the hallway, minding his own business, when he was suddenly blinded by something being pulled over his head.

"What the…?" he cried, voice muffled by whatever it was.

"Relax, Jim," called a familiar voice. "I’m not going to hurt you."

"Stephanie?" he gasped. "Is that you?"

"That’s Ms McMahon-Helmsley to you, Jim. You’re probably wondering why I had to trap you this way."

"Well, actually, ma’am…"

"I had to, Jim," she told him as he felt the very shirt from his back being pulled up over his head. "You see, there’s a tag team title match tonight and it involves Chris Jericho. You know how much I hate him. Well, I really wanted to be the referee. But daddy said no. It didn’t matter how many times I asked him, he just refused. But you know, Jim. I am the billion-dollar princess and what I want, I get. So, anyway, Jim. Thank you for listening to what I had to say, and if I were you, I’d just lie there and count slowly back from ten. Because I have a long memory and my husband Triple H is not going to be injured forever. Good night, Jim."

And then she was gone, leaving him in peace. He rested his forehead against the cold ground and slowly began to count. "Ten…nine…eight…"

* * * *

"And we didn’t even have to beat him up!" Angel cried joyously, entering the locker room again.

"I can’t believe how much you sound like her when you do that," Shane grinned, admiration shining in his dark brown eyes.

Angel shrugged. "It’s a gift. Hey, look. Trish took our bags. This is going even better than I thought."

"Hey, hold on there, girl," Shane put in. "The tough part’s still to come." He pulled off his shirt and Angel couldn’t help checking him out. Just because she was in love with Benoit, it didn’t mean she was dead.

"Shirt?" Shane questioned and she handed it to him. He put it on quickly and glanced over at Angel. "How do I look? Official enough for you?"

Angel nodded. "Almost perfect. Now, if only we could do something about that hair…like chop it off."

"Not a chance," Shane snapped. "I like it this way."

"Okay, I was just kidding." Suddenly, they heard Test’s music blaring from the TV. "Well, looks like it’s time to go. You ready?"

"To cause trouble?" Shane smiled. "Always."

"Okay." She smiled back at him, then held out her fists. "Let’s do this thing."

* * * *

Test grabbed at his injured and heavily bandaged ribs as he started back up the ramp. That had been tough, real tough and he frankly shouldn’t have been competing at all today. But it was his punishment. It’s not as though it was his fault that Shane-O had brought Stacy Keibler in during his title match with Rhyno last week, although the only part of that he hadn’t enjoyed was that Shane and Stacy had escaped before Test had even gotten a chance to properly thank the tall, sexy blonde…and his buddy Shane, of course. Test was paying for that win now though, paying in a big way. He’d managed to suck it in for the duration of the match but, now it was over, he could hardly walk without doubling over in pain. And it had only been Perry Saturn, anyway. If it had been someone a little more…well, with it…Test probably wouldn’t still be the champion right now.

Crack! Before he saw a thing, he felt the pain – hard, intense and overwhelming, right in his abdomen. He screamed and doubled over, but his attacker wasn’t done. Crack! Crack! Crack! He tried to open his eyes but they were squeezed shut, his teeth and fists were clenched and her just wanted to die. Why now? Now that he’d convinced himself that it was over, that he could go to the trainer, get something for the pain, then return to the hotel for a long hot shower before sleeping it off. Crack! Crack! Crack! Freedom had never seemed so far away.

The attacker hit the swinging neckbreaker and he was flat on his back. He knew he was being pinned, that the cover was being made and the count was starting. He knew he had to kick out or raise his shoulder…anything to protect his title, but the attacker was covering his ribs, lying on them, squeezing them and he just couldn’t…the count was so long. He wanted to die, wished the attacker would just hit him in the head a few times, put him out of his misery. And then, with a shouted "three!" it was over. The attacker was off him. He heard a voice.

"Sorry, Test. Every man for himself. I need it more than you do." But it wasn’t a man’s voice.

"Angel?" Test groaned, moving into the fetal position as the searing pain continued to blind him. "Why? Why? Angel?"
But she didn’t answer and all he could hear was the roar of the crowd and the voice of the ring announcer.

"Here is your new World Wrestling Federation hardcore champion, Angel Torres!"

It didn’t make sense. Why Angel? He knew she was pissed with him, but that was weeks ago, months, even.

"Argh!" he screamed as some stupid EMT touched his stomach. "Stop! Please! Stop!" He wasn’t going to think about Angel right now. He couldn’t. Right now he just wanted to die.

* * * *

"Good God!" Jericho grinned. "Did you see that?"

"I was watching," Benoit replied coldly. "She’s out of her damn mind."

"Well, we know that," Jericho shrugged. "But that’s why we love her, right?"

Benoit glared at him. "You’re not funny, Y2J."

"No, if I was funny I’d bring out that photo of you with Rosie the robot. Or, I’d do a repeat performance of my ‘Green Eggs & Ham’ spoof. Now they were funny." Benoit’s furious reaction just increased his smirk. "Lighten up, junior. I wasn’t trying to be funny. You should be proud of Angel."

"Proud?" Benoit echoed. "Proud? I’m supposed to be proud of her for attacking Test with a set of nunchukas after he’d just fought his heart out in a legally booked match? That’s not what I taught her."

"Sure you did," Jericho challenged. "You taught her to zero in on a person’s weakness and then keep on attacking ‘til she got what she wanted. You know she’s always wanted that title."

"So she should have asked for a title shot like everyone else. Does she think her life’s gonna be better now she’s got the belt? Test is gonna want revenge. Rhyno’s gonna want a shot. She thought her head hurt after that match on Monday? That’s nothing compared with what it’s going to be like the first time she steps inside the ring to defend that title. It’s no place for a damn woman. Do you hear me, Y2J? No place."

Jericho frowned at him, slowly shrugging his shoulders. "You know what, Chris? I am sick of this shit. I don’t like you right now. I really don’t."

Benoit glared at him ferociously. "You think I really give a crap if you like me or not? I’m not in this to be friends. It was never about that. The only thing it’s about, Chris, is keeping these damn titles. Is that okay with you, Chris? Well, is it?"

Jericho leveled his gaze. "Sunday night, Chris. You, me and Austin for the World Wrestling Federation title. I’ll tell you right now that I’m prepared to destroy Austin first, but if it comes down to you and me, I’m not going to hold back. Just making sure you know that."

Benoit gave a low, evil laugh, forming his trademark smirk. "Jericho? I wouldn’t expect anything less."

* * * *

Slam! Slam! Two doors crashed shut.

"Drive, Trish!" Angel yelled.

"Okay!" Trish put her foot down and they took off into the night.

"I can’t believe we pulled it off!" Angel cried, kissing her title belt.

"It was cool, all right," Shane agreed. "But do you think they knew it was me? I only get my bonus if I’m recognized."

"I think they figured it out when you took off your ref’s shirt and put on the WCW one you had hanging out of your pocket."

"Oh yeah," Shane grinned. "You’re probably right."

"So, they gave you the win?" Trish asked. "Even though Shane was the ref?"

"They had to," Angel shrugged. "In this business, if you’re wearing the shirt, you are the ref. And they knew it. Besides, even if they wanted to reverse the decision once Shane took his shirt off, well, they can’t, ‘cause look who’s got the belt? That’s right! Me! Thanks, you guys. I couldn’t have done it without you."

"You’re welcome, Angel," Trish smiled. "So, now what do we do?"

"We go back to the hotel and give them some time to comprehend what I just did. Then, on Sunday I’ll call the boss and he’ll be begging to give me a contract, just so he can get his precious little title back in his precious little company. You know what, guys? In one fell swoop I’ve gone from holding none of the cards to holding the whole bloody deck, and it’s all thanks to the two of you. No matter what happens from now, I’m never gonna forget this."

"Hey, no problem," Shane grinned. "Now, Trish, drive us somewhere we can get some food. I’m starved."