Warning: Before you proceed, just keep in mind that English is NOT my mother language. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

Author's Note: So my WWE Comics came out 2 days ago, this time about some Face-turn recipes… And poor Cena: trying to turn Wade Face will not be something easy. Will he give up? Will he say I QUIT? ;)

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THE DRAFT

Chapter 2: Overdose.

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John Cena was walking in the corridor towards the broadcast room where the whole roster - RAW and SMACKDOWN mixed - were sitting and staring at the big screens, in order to watch the matches, their outcomes, and of course, more than anything else: the result of the roulette at the end of each match.

John had been so busy trying to reassure (or get rid of) Heath Slater, and still helping Sin Cara around, by showing him who was who, who would be a nice company for him, and who was better to avoid, that... oops, he had completely missed Wade's match against Rey Mysterio. Not that he was really interested. During his time in the Nexus during the previous year, he had seen enough of Wade's fights to last for a lifetime. The less he could see the Brit, the best he would feel.

At that moment, the idea finally stroke him that they were back in the same brand. And that he had another gang around him. Wonderful... Would the story repeat itself? John knew he wouldn't be able to hide forever from Wade. Soon or late…

Then he met R-truth, who was on his way for the restroom, and who informed him of the outcome: "Wade lost his match!"

"Not a big surprise, there…", John smiled with a dry humor, wondering who thus were the two wrestlers SmackDown was going to lose. At that precise moment, as an answer to his silent question, BIG SHOW's theme started at full volume in the arena. He couldn't help but feel a spark of disappointment. Big Show was one of the guys he had been eager to work with again. Damn Barrett!

On the other hand, Big Show was Barrett's worst enemy on SmackDown. Not that Cena would blame him: what had taken Barrett to challenge the biggest athlete on his first day on the Blue Brand? Was it to make sure he wouldn't be forced to eat cat food as well? John had an idea that cat food and dog biscuits had been the last things in the residents' minds back then: the NEXUS - Barrett's former group - had damaged quite a bunch of people on SmackDown as well. When the news had come that the former leader of that said group of misfits was transferred to the Blue Brand, the whole roster had probably started a bee-line to have a quiet discussion with him. Many Brutuses for this self-proclaimed New Julius Caesar.

Maybe it had been a smart move from the Brit: by challenging the Big Show, Barrett was sure to have his whole attention.. And Big Show was loyal. He wouldn't let anyone put his hands on Wade until he had his quiet discussion with him… in the middle of the ring. John could easily picture the huge bear-type hand falling possessively on Barrett's shoulder, while the Big Show would stare at any opponent, saying just one word: "MINE!".

Yeah, knowing Wade, John was more and more certain that it was exactly what the Brit had in mind on that 7th of January. So, in the end, Barrett had perhaps lost a match today, but he had won the war. It seemed such a fairy tale for him that it suddenly sounded mildly suspicious. Was the Draft roulette really random? What if Barrett somehow knew that if he lost the match, Big Show would be randomly chosen and moved away from him. Could there be someone having interests in Rey Mysterio winning, and offered Barrett some peace in return of him losing the match? Whatever the reality - his paranoid scenario or a happy coincidence - John was sure to hear too soon the low voice and cutting accent, pronouncing words like "to every cloud, there is a silver lining".

At that very moment, another music started and John recognized the trumpets of Alberto Del Rio's theme. Somehow he was glad. He had mostly seen the man from a distance, but had heard a lot about him, and in his ways, he seemed even more vicious than Barrett. One less sociopath in the same brand as him, was always pure benefit.

And speaking of sociopath, he soon heard that very voice he had learned to loath. But the tone was far from being as happy or cocky as he had imagined under the circumstances. Barrett actually sounded pissed. Much to John's paranoid scenario about the roulette. He located the room where Barrett was yelling from, when he saw Slater standing at the entrance, his hand still on the knob of the door, and looking inside the room. John would have preferred to avoid walking by it, at all cost, but he had to rejoin the other wrestlers to watch the rest of the show with them. His absence had probably been noticed, and the management was probably already livid, especially since he - SmackDown's new Top Face - had to be shown by the cameras, in the room, surrounded by his new family.

He had no other choice. He had to walk by Barrett's CORRE room. He took a deep breath, praying God that whatever was pissing Barrett off, it would keep the Brit distracted enough, and prevent him from seeing his former nemesis passing by. As he walked closer to the dreaded locker room, he heard Barrett's voice more clearly.

"Oh, you have a question for me? Heath, you always have questions for me. Tons of them, actually! And when it's not a question, it's a statement. Do you know how much you annoy me? The answer is: a lot. Should I list the reasons why? Well, I don't see why not. It's your hair, your nose, your capacity of watching cartoons during the whole night on TV when we share a room, your constant need of a hug. Not to mention your "I'M THE ONE BAND ROCK BAND BABY!" you keep screaming to every girl we walk by in the street while we're supposed to be DISCRETE!"

As he approached Heath, John couldn't help but notice the vacant look that was now on the red haired youth. Well, not exactly vacant, John realized as he walked even closer. Heath almost looked… dreamy. As if he too was in his own place, like Randy Orton. Maybe something he had developed after standing by that mad Brit for so long.

"That you see me as a paternal figure just continues to perplex me!", the said mad Brit's voice went on. Though Cena couldn't see him yet, he could perfectly imagine his burning eyes, sweaty hair, and popping up veins on his temples.

"And, by God…", Barrett continued, "…stop referring to your tag-team co-member Justin as your 'partner', 'cause this might end up giving me wrong ideas. See now, Heath? That's the things you do that drive me up a tree. 'Cause no matter how I rant at you, you never let me be. So I'm stuck with all your daydreaming, your wish for me to brush your hair. It makes me sui-ci-dal. So that's why I call you names like Wendy, or Ginger Ninja, … Regardless of the names I pick, my feelings are quite clear. You're a pain in every day of every month of every year. If you want some kind of favor from me, really any kind of favor... please just get me peace and quiet!"

There was a silence. Cena observed that Heath's face expression hadn't varied at all.

"Naw Mean?", Barrett's voice again, imitating Heath favourite quote. Those two words managed apparently to pull Heath back from his trance - wherever he was - as life seemed to come back into his eyes. He blinked several times, like adjusting to here and now.

"Oh, sorry, I wasn't listening…", the youth started. "But now that you're obviously done, can you tell me…", he stepped backwards, sliding his hands on his black, blue and yellow outfit, and flashed Barrett with a smile: "… what you think about my new tights?"

Cena didn't hear any reply from Wade, but rather perceived the sound of a few repetitive and regular hits on the wall. Heath seemed a bit surprised first, but something caught his attention from further down the corridor, and he quickly walked away. John made a few cautious steps toward the Corre locker room. Curiosity kills the cat, they say.

What he saw was what he had finally suspected: Wade, repetitively hitting the wall near the door, with his forehead. He hadn't even seen Heath departing, but he quickly felt Cena's presence, like a kind of survival instinct, and straightened up at once. "Cena…", he looked a bit nervous, quite unhappy.

John nodded, feeling the same. "Wade…"

There was an uneasy silence.

"So… You're joining SmackDown, I heard?"

John smiled coldly, showing his blue tee-shirt with the big SmackDown logo on it, just in case there was still any lingering doubt about it. "Yeah".

There was another awkward silence. Then John politely broke it. "How have you been, Wade?". He really didn't give a damn, but he had been educated to be polite. He just hoped Wade would reply with a simple 'I'm fine, how are you?', to which he would reply 'I'm fine, thanks', and then walk away.

But apparently, the Brit wasn't on the same wavelength as him.

"I'm freaking tired, Cena…", Wade started with a sigh. "You see, Heath never stops talking about his bloody tights. And Heath is everywhere I go. He's there when I wake up in the morning, when I work out at gym, when I get any meal at the catering, when I'm in the WWE bus, when I'm in the locker room, when I'm on stage, when I'm back in the locker room, when I'm back in the WWE bus, when I'm at the hotel, and when I'm about to sleep. And all the time, he talks about his bloody tights. I would honestly kill myself, John, if I weren't absolutely certain that Heath would be waiting for me in the afterlife. You see, typical of him: he went ahead and signed us up for an eternal tandem bike ride all along the banks of the River Styx. And all the time, he'll keep talking about his bloody tights!"

Wade took a deep breath after such a long discourse. John could only stare at him, wide eyes, stunned.

"… I'm SO glad you shared, Wade…"

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TO BE CONTINUED.

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Aaah, Cena. Always trying to be friendly, and paying the price of it… ;-)