"Daniel Bryan and Kane, put your differences aside for one night, because you'll be teaming up to face the team of CM Punk and . . . AJ."
I was shocked. Obviously, the crowd was too. That ass Michael Cole was gloating about how John Laurinaitis was stepping up his game. Jerry Lawler was proclaiming Laurinaitis was simply out to get Punk. Daniel was laughing his head off. Kane was . . . being Kane. I glance at Punk. I think he is trying to say something reassuring, but it's not getting through.
The shock wears off as I step out of the ring. Lawler thinks this will just be a glorified handicap match. He has forgotten, or he never knew I've stepped into the ring against men before. And won. So what if they weren't opponents of Kane or Daniel's caliber? I can do this. I just need to discuss strategy with Punk. I am not going to freak out.
"I'll see you later AJ," Punk said, walking off to the men's locker room.
I'm shocked again. How are we going to win if we don't discuss even basic strategy?
I am not going to freak out. I am not going to freak out. I am not going to freak out.
"Oh gosh, I'm freaking out, I'm freaking out," I say as Punk finally comes out of the locker room. The match is about to begin, and we still haven't discussed what we're going to do.
Punk is all reassurances. It's all about Laurinaitis trying to get at him. He's not going to let anything happen to me. It's going to be a glorified handicap match. We really, really like each other. "Listen to what I say—stay on the apron, and I know this goes against every fiber of your being but don't do anything crazy and you're going to be fine," he says.
Okay. He's got a plan. I don't know what it is, but everything will be fine. Punk's got a plan. It's going to work, whatever it is. He's got a plan. I hope it works. I kiss his cheek for luck and head for the stage.
The producers also think it's going to be a glorified handicap match. They play CM Punk's theme. They don't play mine. But that's okay. Punk's got a plan.
I hope nothing goes wrong.
Oh my gosh, Punk missed that diving elbow drop! Daniel scrambles over to tag Kane. Punk rolls up and reaches out for me. I want to reach in, make the tag, give him some time. But I'm afraid. That's Kane coming into the ring, for Pete's sake! Luckily, Punk realizes his error. He gets up, turns around, and walks into a chokeslam from the Big Red Monster. No wait, he slipped out! But then Kane hits Punk and he tumbles back into me. The ref calls a tag!
Oh. My. God.
Punk slides off of the apron while the ref makes Kane step back. What can I do? I slowly move into the ring. What am I going to do? Okay. Okay. I just need to delay things long enough for Punk to recover. All I really have to do is distract Kane long enough to tag back out. I hope Punk can get it together quickly. What should I do?
The idea strikes as the ref asks if I'm ready to wrestle. "Don't do anything crazy"? Right now, crazy is my only chance! I tell the ref I'm ready. Then I turn to face a seven-foot, three hundred twenty-three pound monster. I look him in the eyes.
And I smile at him.
Open up, you. Show me the heart that I know is there. I take a few steps back. I start skipping circles around him. Once. Twice. I stop behind him; I wait for him to turn around. He turns to face me. Open up, you. There! I jump up and wrap my legs around his body, my arms around his neck. I'm still smiling. I stare into his eyes for another couple of seconds. And then I kiss him.
The crowd is screaming "Yes! Yes! Yes!" I continue kissing him. Who would have ever thought that the kissing contest in NXT season three would have a practical application in the WWE? I won that kissing contest. I'm going to win this one. When I break the kiss, I go back to staring into his eyes. He is dazed. Befuddled. I see Punk climbing back on the apron. Thank God. Mission accomplished.
I drop down from Kane. We circle around. I start stepping back to tag Punk. Kane slaps Daniel's shoulder, leaves the ring, and starts walking away. I watch him leave as Daniel comes into the ring. I turn my attention toward him. Oh shit.
Kane wouldn't have hurt me. I knew that. But Daniel . . . he would hurt me. He wants to hurt me. I see it in his eyes. I see it in his smile. I continue to step back. Daniel continues to follow. Suddenly, I realize I should have listened to all those people telling me that Daniel was abusing me. He was. And the look in his eyes now. How long would it have been before the abuse became physical?
I admit it. I snapped. Daniel rushed at me. I slipped to the side, avoiding both Daniel's rush and Punk's attempt to blind tag me. Daniel hit the turnbuckle. Punk gives Daniel a cheap shot with his forearm, bless him. Daniel gets out of the corner and turns to face me again. During NXT season three, Dolph Ziggler tried to get between me and my tag team partner. I knocked him on his ass. Then, the rules said he should have let me tag my partner. Now, there is no such rule.
Punk was screaming at me while reaching in his hand. "AJ don't be crazy! Tag out damn it. Get out of there! Tag out you stupid, crazy bitch!"
I ignore him. I am not crazy. I am not stupid. In fact, I am more sane than I have been in months. I am remembering a three hundred pound tub of lard that got out-wrestled by a girl. But I am not a girl anymore. I give Daniel a come-get-me gesture and reach up with my hands, inviting him to grapple. The crowd has mostly gone silent. Punk is still shouting at me. Daniel is laughing as he approaches. He is still laughing when his hands touch mine.
He stops laughing when I twist his arm and apply a wrist lock. I stomp the mat to make it hurt more.
"What is she doing? Does she really think that she can wrestle Daniel Bryan?" Michael Cole shouts.
Through gritted teeth, Daniel asks, "You don't really think you can beat me, do you?"
"Ask me that after I pin your ass," I say. My spin kick gets him in the throat, knocking him down and shutting him up. The crowd starts to chant "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
We're too close to a corner. I reach down, pull Daniel up and apply a side headlock. He counters and whips me to the opposite corner. I hear him following, probably to follow up with a running corner clothesline. That's not going to happen. I run up to the second turnbuckle and launch myself into a reverse crossbody. I hit Daniel perfectly and we slam down to the mat. The ref is quick, but Daniel throws me off with just a one count.
It doesn't matter. We're in the middle of the ring now. We both get up. I'm quicker though. I swerve, slap on a three-quarter facelock, crouch, and launch. I flip over, bringing us both down to the mat. I land in a seating position. Daniel's head hits the mat with a satisfying SMACK. They call that move different things. Sliced bread #2. Asai DDT. I like standing shiranui. It has an exotic sound to it. That's what Kitana would call it. That's what they call it in the WWE video games.
The crowd is now chanting my name. Jerry is the only one talking at the announcer's table. What do you know? I shut Michael Cole's big fat mouth. I stand up and look at Punk. I see different things in his face. Shock. Awe. Fear? I see he would only use me, too. Just like Daniel. I walk over to him and slap his shoulder. The ref calls the tag.
I slip out of the ring, hop off the apron, and walk away. Daniel Bryan isn't going anywhere; let Punk get the cover. I don't need him. Ahead of me, Kane is on the stage staring at me. I'll deal with him later. Right now, my Xbox is waiting for me.
They're playing my theme now.
I begin skipping.