Chapter Two.

"This is 'Good Ol' JR' Jim Ross here with Jerry 'the King' Lawler in St. Louis. And welcome to Monday Night Raw!"

His last words were drawn out and echoing through the stadium as fireworks blasted and exploded all around. Sunday watched the 40" television screen with as much intensity as she put into one of her workouts. The crowd cheered as the last explosion ignited and then dissipated into the thick, hot air. With every passing second, a deeper frown appeared between Sunday's eyes, her gaze going passed the screen and into a meditative state.

A knock on the door brought her back to the present reality. It was John's voice. "Sunday! Shake that ass, let's go!"

She pushed herself upright, took just a single moment to collect herself, then ran out of the door. As soon as the large metallic portal crashed back into it's threshold with a "thud", arms wrapped around Sunday's waist and pulled her backwards. "RANDY! GET OFF!" She pried herself away from him and continued down the hall where she could only see traces of John Cena's path. She was aware Randy was at her heels, but she tried to ignore him as long as he didn't talk to her.

But he did.

"Sunday, hold on a second..."

She started running, hearing the crowd now mixing into a sea of cheers and boos. He ran after her. "I have to get out there! I'll be right back."

That made him stop running after her, so she sped up. By the time she had gotten out on stage, John was already halfway down the ramp. He was jumping around, giving the cheerers exactly what they all wanted to see. He got into the ring, Sunday quickly catching up to him as he held the ropes open for her. As soon as he set foot on the canvas, he was handed a microphone and started bull shitting everything. Just like everyone did.

He talked and talked about talked about some rivalry he had going, how he was wronged last week, and how he wouldn't back down from a challenge. His rival came out on stage, they exchanged some banter, and a match quickly followed.

John handed Sunday his title, his dog tags, and his shirt - which made the girls scream. Then he added a theatrical kiss before she slid off the apron and placed everything on the commentary table. While John was tying up with his flavor of the month, Sunday couldn't help but notice how he had a new sway to his step. Something unnatural for him. If you didn't know him as well as Sunday did, you probably wouldn't have noticed it. But she did. And it made her worry.

The match ended just like everything was supposed to, but the way John had jumped down from the apron and sort of sidestepped his way over to her made her sigh.

She waited until they were safely backstage before she cut John off and slammed him into the wall. He looked shocked, his eyes popping out of his head, and tried to stand up straight, but she had a firm grip on his shoulders. "Has anyone ever told you you're freakishly strong?" he nervously laughed.

Sunday's stomach lurched. "Your breath reeks! What the hell did you do? Down a bottle of rubbing alcohol? Jesus..."

"Dry vodka."

Without missing a beat, Sunday slapped him as hard as she could. He doubled over, clutching his jaw and shouting obscenities in return. "I have two words for you, John Cena. Fuck. You." She added emphasis by holding up two fingers in his face. Two very unladylike fingers.

John shot up and glared at her with the intensity of a raging bull. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me, ya big, dumb drunk! Your eyes are bloodshot and you could hardly walk straight out there. YOU HAVE A PROBLEM! " She backed away from him and crossed her arms. "You want to ease your sorrows at the bottom of a bottle, then fine. But if you think that for even a second that I'm going to stand by and let you ruin your career, simultaneously pulling me down with you, then you have another thing coming!"

A crowd had started to form around them, watching the two scream back and forth with rising tension. Cody walked up to see what was going on, and found a spot in the crowd next to Randy. "Someone should stop it," he commented, stepping forward.

Randy reached an arm out in front of him. "I wouldn't just yet."

"They're going to kill each other!"

"And as soon as you utter a syllable, Sunday'll kill you. This isn't your fight, just like it isn't mine. Sunday can handle herself. Give her five minutes. Or at least until her nostrils stop flaring."

Cody crossed his arms and sighed, "Five bucks says she decks him."

Something in Randy twitched and squirmed after those words. "Bet? I'll take your bet. If I know my Sunday, she'll hold back." What am I saying? No, she won't! "Whaddaya say we raise the stakes a little, hmm?"

"How little?"

"One thousand dollars." He couldn't help it, he couldn't stop himself. Goddam it!

Cody shook his head, "Too rich for my blood. Not on something like this." As soon as the words left his mouth, Sunday reached out and slapped John again, knocking him back into the wall and onto the floor.

Thanking God that Cody had turned him down, he rushed over to Sunday and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her away before she could do anymore damage. "Let's live to fight another day, huh?" he whispered in her ear. Just like that, she was putty in his arms. Only for a moment though.

Sunday let John walk away before storming off in the opposite direction. "I need to hit something!"

Randy, placing his hands on his hips, knew better than to get in her way. She was going to go into workout mode, and fast. It was going to stress her out more than she already was, but it was going to unravel so well for him. She would be too exhausted in the morning to notice if he had lost anything that night. And, if this poker night was going to be like every other poker night, he would probably lose big.

- - - - - - -

John was clearly feeling the effects of Sunday's attack. Mental and physical. That, and the slight hangover he was feeling from the previous night. And the overlap from the night before. And the night before...

He didn't have a problem. Fuck no! His only problem was her. Them, really. Sunday and Madison. Even if he did have a problem - which he didn't - what does that say about the type of people they really were. Abandoning him in his time of need?

Fuck them! One side of his conscious protested.

Me thinks thou does protest too much, yelled the other.

"Screw it all!" He shouted out loud. Too long has he let the little versions of himself on his shoulders control him. No more. If he wanted to self-destruct, then he was going to self-destruct.

- - - - - - -

Cody ducked into the first room he could find. Maria had been following him around the entire night, looking for answers. Truth be told, he didn't have any, and he didn't want to share his lack of knowledge with anyone else.

I really got to lay off the divas, he thought to himself as he pushed himself up against the wall.

"Hey!"

Cody stumbled, scared by the sudden vocality of the original person occupying the room. Sunday. She was alone, a punching bag violently swinging from the ceiling. "What the hell are you doing?" she sighed, clearly wanting to be alone but pitying the worried and panicked look on his face.

"Getting away from the world." Or just Maria.

Cody was aware that he couldn't run forever, but he could sure as hell try.