Why So Serious?

Chapter 1


"Sissy!" Josephine exclaimed, giving her elder sister a bone crushing hug which was returned with the same force.

"What are you doing here in Egypt? Though you were thousands of miles away in the States," asked the black haired Jacqueline smiling her wide smile.

Josephine winked, "Surprise! Surprise! I am here to get 'inspiration' for my new range-Dusty Dusk. They offered me a place but knowing you were here I politely refused." Josephine looked around and sighed, "Looks a pretty interesting place."

"That it is," nodded Jacqueline. "You don't know how much I have worked for this. All this years after laughing all the disappointments off, at last I got my archaeologist's dream site. That mound you see there is the entrance to the main building. Something, we haven't determined what, caused this whole place to sink. We have reached the main chamber where the coffin is. It'll take-"

"Ok, ok, now you are making it boring," cut across Josephine looking around and then clutching at her sister's arm, "Who is that hot guy I see coming towards me?"

"That's Abdul, my assistant researcher and vice coordinator…." After a short pause in which she seemed to be trying to remember something she added, "I think."

"And you never told me! I would have come over last year only." She jerked her brown locks and smiled, "Oh well, never mind, my beauty is dragging him towards me."

The tall, dark and handsome Abdul, clad in a white turban and sandy coloured ensemble came over with two armed guards.

"Professor Jackie, is this woman troubling you? We can press charges as she is already trespassing."

Josephine's smile transformed lightning-fast into a scowl, "How dare you, wimp?" she raised her huge purse as if to hit Abdul. Jackie put a restraining hand on her sister's arm and in a reassuring voice told Abdul, "Oh no! She is my sister. Josephine meet Abdul. Abdul meet Josephine."

"Many apologies, professor. Please forgive me, Miss. Josephine. If you need anything please tell me!" Abdul bowed.

Josephine chose to ignore the man who didn't appear as hot to her as before. Jacqueline, who was still wondering who exactly Abdul was, said, "In that case could you hunt some suitable clothes for Josephine."

Abdul bowed and left.

"Suitable clothes, my foot. Never. You, my dear, look a fashion disaster."

Sheamus yawned and massaged his cramped neck. Overseas flights were so boring. He dragged his baggage from the baggage belt, an action for which his thin escortee seemed relieved. However, the escortee, whose name, Sheamus had read from his badge, was Sultan, did take his trolley and lead him to the car which was to take him to the 5-star hotel, Amun. Sultan, who was to accompany him to the hotel, couldn't contain himself and after 30 minutes of awkwardly squirming in the front street asked, "Mr. Great White, can I get an autograph please?"

Sheamus smiled, "Sure, fella," taking the pen and paper offered to him.

Sultan whistled softly, "You do speak like that."

"Like what?" asked the amused wrestler.

"Like-'Loik wat'" Sultan ventured with a gulp.

Sheamus burst into laughter. Clearly Sultan didn't know of his own heavy Arabic accent. "It's a gift," the pale man answered.

"All passengers are kindly requested to be seated until the doors open. Please do not switch on your mobiles or open the overhead baggage shelves." The voice went on to repeat this in at least five different languages. CM Punk stashed his Batman comic away and looked with amusement as the so-called passengers heeded the message in the exact opposite way; seat belts clicked open here and there and people jumped out of their seats to take their hand baggage from the overhead shelves. A woman some seats behind him started screaming into her mobile phone at the top of her voice, probably telling her brother, Tom, of her arrival.

"Mr. Brooks?" an emotionless voice from a stoic emotionless man greeted him as he ventured to the baggage belt. CM Punk gave a huge smile in response and asked, "Yes, and you?"

"Smith," came the short reply. Smith moved away to get the bags.

As they walked to the exit, Punk ventured, "You see WWE?"

"Hmph," came the reply. Now, Punk had two options: behave as if the man didn't exist or ask some more questions to make the man go mad. Obviously Punk chose the latter one. "Have any favourites?"

"Cena…..and Jericho," Punk managed to make out from the cough of a reply he got.

Nodding he asked, "Anyone you particularly dislike?"

Smith seemed to consider this. Out of the corner of his eye Punk saw the boisterous woman from the plane with a male version of her, her brother Tom, probably. Punk, overcome by a sudden thought and the childishness of it, ran to Tom and said in a highly pleased voice, "Ah! You must be Tom. I have heard such a lot about you."

Tom, looking flustered and surprised, shook his hand and muttered, "Who….Where….?"

"On the plane," Punk replied with a smug smile and walked off as Tom's sister explained with a fuming face.

Smith who had been his usual emotionless self gave Punk a most disapproving look. "Where were we?" Punk asked, getting all chatty.

"Ya, you asked me if I disliked any wrestler."

"Oh yes! Well, do you?"

"Ya, one." Smith put the bags in the taxi's boot and finished his sentence, "You."

CM Punk's mouth formed a perfect O.


Since this is my first wrestlling fic I need lots of encouragement so please, please REVIEW! Next chapter would be up very soon!

-Z-A-K

Note: All names relating to archaeology are taken from my English textbook's one and only interesting chappy!