Welcome back to another one of my insane musings! All characters belong to Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon and World Wrestling Entertainment. I am only using these men for my own benefit (I wish!).

Hope you like this. The plot is very strange and would not ever, ever occur in real life (as no one would stand for it) but ignore that factor.

Enjoy!

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Wiping his sweaty brow with his handkerchief, Vince McMahon could barely believe his tiring eyes. Placing his reading spectacles on the end of his nose, his eyes were not deceiving him. Unfortunately, they were not deceiving him.

Slamming his glasses down, Mr. McMahon picked up his phone, desperate to get a hold of his executive assistant, Jonathan Coachman. "Get in here - on the double!" he cried, holding his head in his hands.

Knocking on the door, the Coach didn't wait to get inviting in. He was too eager to find out exactly what was up with his beloved boss.

"Ummm, you wanted to see me, Sir?" he questioned timidly, knowing that he was about to get an ear full. After all, he barely, just barely kept his job after the terrible events that transpired over the Holiday season.

"I thought you were meant to be keeping the companies finances in check while my daughter was on Maternity leave?" he scowled, once again glancing at the piece of paper before him.

"Yes, I was, but I thought that now she was back, she would resume her duty doing it." Coachman attempted to reason.

Vince sneered. "Never assume anything in business. Come here." he beckoned, Coachman stammering over to his employers side. "Tell me what you see..."

"Shit!" Coachman muttered. "How...how did we get that low on cash?"

"You tell me - NOW!" Vince demanded, his eye balls building.

"I...I don't know, Sir. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" McMahon stood, his face turning a bright shade of maroon. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to build this business up from scratch, huh? Do you have any idea how close we were to going under during the Monday Night Wars? Do you have any idea how damn hard I have worked, just to provide the world with non-stop, supreme wrestling action?"

"I-I'm sorry." Coachman stuttered, very sympathetically.

"Sorry isn't fucking good enough!" Vince roared, his breathing deep and his sweat pouring from every ounce of his skin.

"What are we going to do?" Coachman finally quizzed after a few moments of complete and utter silence.

"How the hell am I meant to know?" Vince growled, his back facing his Executive Assistant.

"I think we need to call all of the wrestlers and staff in here for a meeting tomorrow. We need to face this head on." the Boss from hell decided after a few moments. "I can trust you to do that, right?"

"You can count on me, Sir." Coachman nodded, exiting the room.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Vince whispered under his breath, contemplating what to say to his employees in the next 24 hours.

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The next day, wrestlers from all three brands, Raw, Smackdown and ECW piled into the cramped office, some managing to get a seat, the vast majority not fortunate enough.

"Does anyone know what's going on?" the extremist Rob Van Dam piped up, turning to face some of his fellow ECW comrades.

"No idea." Sabu shrugged, unable to think of any explanations for the meeting.

"We'll hopefully find out soon." CM Punk added, smiling at girlfriend Maria who was sat next to some of her girl pals from the Raw roster.

"This had better not take long." Randy Orton grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he waited impatiently.

Turning to face his tag team partner, Edge agreed. "Yeah and he'd better not yak on and on and on - I have business to attend to!" he winked, getting a hi-five from the Legend Killer.

The smiles were soon wiped off from their faces as their arch enemies, Shawn Michaels and Triple H, D Generation X, strolled into the room, each clutching a bottle of an ice cold mineral water.

"Trips," the World Heavyweight Champion walked over to his former mentor. "Do you know what this is about?" he questioned, heaving the title belt firmer on his shoulder.

Spying the title belt, the Game simply shook his head. "Sorry, Dave, I've got no idea." he replied, him and his best mate waltzing over to mid-carders Cade & Murdoch, demanding their seats or an arse kicking!

Reluctantly being seated, it was only a few seconds before Hunter's Father-In-Law makes his way into the crowded room, a dark purpose obvious on his face.

"Right, thank you all for coming here today." Vince acknowledged, making Coachman wipe a few specs of dust from his seat before parking himself down. "I bet you are all thinking what's going on here."

"No shit Sherlock!" Mr. Kennedy muttered, exasperated before the ridiculous scheme was revealed.

"Thank you." Vince sternly spoke, silence falling across the room. "Now, as you may or may not be aware - depending on what my dear colleague Mr. Coachman has told you over the phone World Wrestling Entertainment is indeed facing severe financial difficulties."

The employees in the room raised eye brows and looked at each other in dismay. Was he being serious?

"I'm afraid that this leads us to a very difficult series of decisions that we have to make, preferably together but I need you to all understand that you co-operation is essential." Mr. McMahon guided, clearing his throat.

"What kind of decisions?" Lashley piped up.

"Please don't tell us that you are going to dump some of us!" Matt Hardy yelped, desperate not to hear the words 'YOU'RE FIRED!' ever again.

"No, not at the moment." Vince put everyone at ease, at least for the moment. "However, there is something drastic that I need you all to consent to." he spoke, the room once again reduced to no sound. "There is no easy way of putting this, at all."

"Well then just get on with it and tell us you F-Wit!" Test cursed, Coachman giving him an evil glare for describing their boss as such a thing.

"OK, 'Test'; I need you to all pack your bags, sell you houses and come and live in this very office block." Vince replied, very matter of factly, returning to his suave leather chair in haste.

"Pardon?" the Heartbreak Kid quizzed in almost a whisper.

"I said, I need you all to pack your bags, sell your houses as you will all be coming to live in this very office block with your family." McMahon repeated, many of his current stuff dumbfounded.

"Please, tell me this is a joke?" WWE Champion, John Cena begged, his eyes wide and eager for him to confess of it being a little 'rib'. Nothing more.

"I'm afraid he's not joking." Linda strolled thoughtfully into the packed out office, her eyes solemn, her face serious. "At this rate, we can't afford to keep paying you in excess like we do. Now, if we make you live here, we can afford your living expenses and what not. It's the only way without having to release a vast amount of you."

The gravity of the situation was not even beginning to sink in with the wrestlers. They couldn't believe it.

"Tell me I have your consent?" Vince broke the silence, spying the uneasiness plastered across his workers faces.

"It may not be for all that long, just long enough for us to turn things around." Linda re-enforced her husbands words.

"What happens if we don't agree to it?" Michael Cole squeaked, from the back of the room.

"Then, I have no choice but to release you." Mr. McMahon frowned. "Now, does everyone in this room agree that we should all live here until our financial woes are resolved?"

When no one spoke, their eyes blinking in complete shock, Coachman offered a few words of wisdom. "I'm afraid folks it's a necessary evil until we can get this all sorted out."

With apathetic groans clouding the air like a vague fog,, Linda had a few remaining words of encouragement. "Just think of it as...as a camp!"

"It'll be camp alright!" Carlito wise cracked.

But would Linda's enthusiasm last?

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Next time in, 'Necessary Evil'...

It's moving in day! But will everyone get along with their room buddies?

Check back for more, soon