Disclaimer: I do not own WWE or any of it's superstars. I do not own any of the music in this story. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is set in no particular time zone, though I would say it would be a quite recent one. It incorporates the history of the characters, but does not make a huge deal out of them. I'll settle on saying it is set in it's own timeline and these events, whilst staying as true as possible to the current circumstances, are ones I've come up with on my own.

1...2...3. The capacity NYC crowd exploded in cheers and screams as Matt Hardy rose to his feet, fists raised in he air. He was exhausted and he looked it, the match had been a long one and brutal by anyone's standards. His eyes flicked through the front of the crowd as if looking for something, but he turned away, his attention focusing on the other side of the arena as he launched himself onto the top turnbuckle. He lifted his arm high, giving his signature hand signal to riotous applause and many camera flashes.

The steel chair caught him off guard as it slammed against his lower back, sending him reeling off the turnbuckle and onto the mat. He pulled his knees up in pain, his face screwed up. He felt a boot connect with his side and jerked away from it. He then felt his head being pummelled by strong forearms and lifted his hands to cover himself.

The crowd had grown quiet, buzzing angrily in the background, but a sudden shock seemed to ripple through them and he felt it. A fan, dressed head to toe in blue denim, right down the baseball cap pulled down to hide the face, had jumped the barrier and charged into the ring. Chris Jericho, who had been behind the attack, jumped back in shock. He seemed unsure of what to do. Though he couldn't see the fan's face, he could tell the guy was slight, not built like a wrestler, so he didn't want to man-handle him and end up getting sued or worse, fired.

Instead, he slipped out of the ring and backed off, putting reasonable distance between himself and this fanatic observer. The fan had not looked up. Just stood, face turned in Jericho's direction and the threat was there, something aggressive in the stance. Without a word or a signal, the denim clad body turned and approach Matt, who was still curled up on the mat.

He opened his eyes and looked up, his brown eyes meeting with navy blue and he lifted an eyebrow, before holding his hand out.

"You took your time."

He felt the strong grip enclose his hand and yank him unceremoniously to his feet. He turned to look at Jericho, whose face was now a very clear mask of confusion. He had no idea what was going on. Nor did the crowd. They were quiet again, whispering amongst themselves. Matt smirked and turned to the back of the ring. He leaned over and motioned for Lilian to hand him the microphone. She did, eagerly, just as curious as everyone else.

He took the mic and then returned to the centre of the ring, looking around him for a long moment, his denim clad companion simply stood looking at him from under that baseball cap. He opened his mouth after a pregnant pause; "Jericho! You didn't like getting beat, so you jumped me from behind. Okay. I can understand that." He shrugged, his tone entirely conversational for the moment. "What you seem to forget, is that in the WWE, there is always someone watching! And unluckily for you, my good friend here decided not to sit by and watch you attack me."

He moved to lay an arm across his companion's shoulders in a brotherly fashion. Jericho frowned, frozen where he was. His curiosity unshakable. Again the crowd were silent, wondering who was underneath that cap. If it were a fan, security would have been in an removed him by now, not just let him stand in there. What was going on?

"Jericho, I bet you'd like to meet the person, whose very presence tonight drove you from the ring!" It was a taunt and Chris knew it, but he didn't care. He bared his teeth as he was supposed to, but it took more effort than usual to keep the smirk off his face. He watched with bright eyes at Matt turned, lowering the microphone and gripped the edge of the baseball cap. He could be seen saying something, seeming to ask a question of his friend, before smirking again.

He suddenly pulled the cap off and collective gasp rang through the arena. Whatever they'd been expecting, it wasn't that…