Long Live The King
Written By:Beth
Email Address: [email protected]
Summary: Sweet dreams, Hunter. Courtesy of Y2J.
Rating: PG
Hunter moved into the lighted doorway and surveyed the scene before him much
the way a king would survey his subjects. It had barely been twenty four hours
since he had been crowned.....no....since he had won, the undisputed
championship from Chris Jericho. It had been a Wrestlemania to remember.
Yeah there had been that little scene between Hogan and Rocky. Sweet,
touching stuff. But surely not what everyone was going to remember.
He allowed a rare smile to cross his face as he smiled at the roomful of people in
front of him. They were gathered for one of Vince's pointless
meetings...something he felt was now beneath him. But he decided that it
wouldn't be fair to deprive everyone of getting to congratulate him in person.
He cleared his throat, waiting for every head to turn. Oddly enough he got no
response. Trying it again...this time a little louder... also drew the same
response. He was about to open his mouth when he felt a firm hand on his
shoulder. Turning, he found himself trapped in the burning, emerald gaze of the
Undertaker. Hunter readied himself for the words of praise that he knew the
much larger man would offer him. In spite of their intense rivalry he knew that he
had the respect of the "Dead Man. Hunter?" he said with an eerie softness.
"Yeah Dead Man? You're in my way." Hunter blinked several times and then let
the words sink in. "Oh...sorry." He stepped back and let the leather clad figure
slide by. "Probably just jealous," he mumbled.
Scanning the room quickly he decided to sit at the center table, feeling this would
give everyone ample opportunity to stop and wish him well. He had only been
seated for a second when he heard two melodious voices. "Hi Hunter." A quick
glance to either side of him revealed the source. "Oh hi Chuck. Hi Billy." Chuck
gave him a little wave and Billy leaned closer to finger his t-shirt. "I just love the
new design...but black is so 1999. Have you considered....oh, I don't know...a
nice mauve?" Hunter stared at him with disdain while subtly edging away from
the even closer presence of Chuck.
"It is a nice shirt...but do you know who looks just....fabulous... these days?" Billy
nodded eagerly as they both chimed together...."Chris Jericho!" "That whole
braid thing is just to die for," Chuck sighed. "Are you two nuts?" Hunter queried.
"Oh no," Billy giggled. "Chris has definitely got it going on. You know if you put
yourself in our hands we could do wonders for you." "Dear God," he moaned.
"Let me out of here." Rising as fast as possible considering that his leg was
killing him, he shoved his chair back and moved off quickly. Chuck grumbled as
they watched his retreating form. "Somebody should lay off the twinkies!" Billy
laughed softly. "Tell me about it. Those jeans don't do a thing for him."
Holding back a shudder of distaste, Hunter found an empty seat next to Spike
Dudley. Now if anyone looked up to him, it was Spike. Hunter set his water bottle
on the table and was just about to speak to the diminutive Dudley when all hell
broke loose. Seemingly from nowhere, Brock Lesnar appeared and snatched
Spike from his chair. Holding him up over his head he ran out into the hall and
away from everyone's view. The loud crash that followed pretty much said all
they needed to know about Spike's fate. Seconds later Lesnar reappeared, with
Paul Heyman close behind, patting his shoulder. "Not a bad performance, huh?"
he said to a still shocked Hunter. "You can't go around doing that," he yelled.
"Are you gonna stop him?" Heyman laughed. "You're no Chris Jericho, you
know." "I'm what?" Hunter asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know that
triple power bomb I pulled on Jeff Hardy?" Brock said. "Well I learned it from
Jericho. The man is awesome!"
"We better go clean up that mess in the hall before he gets here," Heyman
admonished him. "You know how he likes things just so." Hunter stared in
disbelief as they hurried back out the door. He was still trying to figure out what
dimension he had fallen into when he felt a warm hand stroke his arm. The
lingering scent of jasmine told him exactly who it was. "Hey Trish," he murmured.
"Hey yourself. I saw you sitting here and I knew you were the man I was looking
for." "Am I now?" he asked. "And why is that?" She continued to run a well
manicured finger up and down his arm, seeming to delight in the tremors she
knew it was sending through him.
"Because you;re the man with all the answers," she giggled. He reached out a
hand to brush the hair back from her shoulder. "Well I do my best. What's the
question?" Gazing up into his hazel eyes, she smiled sweetly. "Have you seen
Chris Jericho?" Hunter jumped back as if she had suddenly transformed into
Mae Young." "Jericho? What the hell is it with Jericho today?" Trish let out a long
sigh and put on her best pout. "Oh well. I guess I'll just have to keep looking for
him." She sauntered away from the table leaving a slack jawed Hunter to watch.
Now he was getting worried. He ran a hair through his thick blond hair and tried
to conjure up a clear picture of the previous evening's match. He was absolutely
positive that he had won. So why was everybody still so obsessed with Jericho?
It wasn't going to take him long to find out. Seconds after he found another
empty seat...away from everyone else... he saw.....well actually he heard, Chris
Jericho enter the room. He was at the center of a throng of people...all trying to
get his attention.
Suddenly the crowd parted and the two men were locked in each other's gaze.
With a slight wave of his hand, Chris dispersed the crowd and made his way
across the room. Hunter stared in fascination at how easily he controlled these
people. When he got to Hunter's table he paused, smiled slightly, and then
extended his hand. "Nice match last night," he offered. Hunter suddenly felt his
world settle back into it's proper place.
"Thanks Chris. You did a good job too." A sudden darkness clouded Chris's
features. "Job? What do you mean by that? I don't job. It was a tough
match...and yeah...you won. But I'll be damned if I jobbed." His voice rose with
each sentence until he was almost screaming. "Settle down man. I didn't mean it
like that," Hunter said. All eyes in the room were focused on them...and they
weren't friendly eyes from what Hunter could see. "What I meant to say
was....you put on one hell of a match.
Chris seemed to accept this, and his face began to return to it's normal color.
With what could only be described as a tolerant smile, Chris offered to buy him a
cup of coffee. "Sure..that would be great," Hunter replied, surprised himself at
the relief he heard in his own voice. As he stood, the slip of paper which
contained the agenda for that night's meeting slid from the table and fluttered to
the floor.
Hunter moved to get it....but Chris held up a hand. Hunter couldn't help but think
how reminiscent it was of The Rock's "Just Bring It." "Let me," Chris said sweetly.
He bent to reach for the paper and in a flash had both of Hunter's ankles within
his grasp. With one mighty tug, he had Hunter flat on his back and
twisting....twisting....until he was locked in the Walls of Jericho! "Chris!" he
bellowed. "What the hell are you doing?" But Chris never answered him. He
continued to apply pressure until Hunter realized that this wasn't a joke. He
screamed out in pain. "Damn it Chris....let me go!" But now a crowd had formed
and they were beginning to chant.."Y2J..Y2J...Y2J!" Hunter was caught between
complete disbelief at what he was hearing...and agonizing pain.
He struggled to break free, but each movement only brought forth another wave
of agony. He could feel the blackness closing in and he struggled to remain
conscious. "How does that feel? Huh Hunter? Does it hurt? Come on
baby....suck it up. You're the champ now. A little pain can't stop you. Can it
folks?" He looked up at the crowd and urged them to join with him. "Let’s hear it
for the champ," he cried. "Hunter...Hunter....Hunter..." The crowd began to join in.
But instead of getting louder..the voices seemed to be fading away..until it
sounded for all the world like one solitary voice.
"Hunter? Hunter....can you hear me? Are you all right?" He opened his eyes and
found himself staring at Stephanie. She was wrapped in a thick terry cloth
bathrobe and her toothbrush was clutched tightly in her hand. "You must have
been having a nightmare...you were moaning and thrashing around. I could hear
you all the way in the bathroom." He glanced around quickly and realized where
they were. It was the same hotel that had checked into the night before. And a
quick look around found him sighing with relief at the sight of his newly won titles
draped across the back of a nearby chair.
"You want to talk about it?" she asked softly. "No...that's all right,” he said as he
sat up and rubbed his eyes. "You wouldn't believe it anyway." "Well....as long as
you're ok." She returned to her tooth brushing, leaving him to wonder what made
him have such a crazy dream. Nothing like that could ever happen. He was
champ...and even if the majority of the people backstage hated his guts..he
knew deep down they respected him.
He rose from the bed and strolled over to run a finger over the gleaming surface
of one of his titles. "As if there were any doubt," he said with a small smile. He
heard the water in the bathroom go on, and he entertained the thought of joining
the boss's daughter under the steamy spray when the phone rang. "Damn," he
muttered as he picked it up. "Hello?" "Good morning .....champ." The voice was
eerily familiar. And after last night's dream it sent a chill down his spine. "What
do you want Chris?" "Oh nothing much. Just wanted you to know that I was
looking forward to our re-match tonight."
"Who said anything about a re-match?" Hunter demanded. "Oh the crowds are
demanding it," he said softly. "Can't you hear them?" Hunter felt his stomach flip
as the soft chant of "Y2J" could be heard very clearly in the background. "This
isn't funny Chris." "I totally agree Hunter. It's deadly serious. Now go get some
breakfast....do your ten thousand push ups and prepare yourself. I want you to
do a good JOB tonight." "Job?" he cried. "No way I"m jobbing to you." "Oh but
you have to," Chris whispered. "The people won't have it any other way."
Hunter dropped the receiver as the chant started up again...only this time louder
than ever. He backed away from the phone, covering his ears and grimacing in
fear and pain. "I'm not jobbing....I'm not!" He froze..a scream trapped in his
throat as he felt a hand upon his shoulder. "What is wrong with you?" He spun
his head to see Stephanie....lying next to him, watching him intently. "You've
been tossing and turning all night. "Now you're screaming about getting a job?"
Hunter's eyes searched the room frantically before they rested on Steph again.
"Did you take your shower yet?" "No..I just woke up....why?" Releasing a sigh of
relief, he dropped back against his pillow. "No reason," he sighed. "I guess I was
just dreaming." She looked at him and shook her head. "Maybe you should lay
off those protein drinks before bedtime." "Yeah maybe," he laughed as he slowly
sat up. The phone next to Stephanie began to ring and she reached out to pick it
up. "Oh sure...hang on," she said. "Hunter....it's for you," she said holding out
the receiver. "It's Chris Jericho." His eyes widened and one solitary word made
it's way through his lips, "Nooooo!......"
Back to Fan Fic Index Index