Love Hurts

"No, don't be ridiculous! I love you more, and we both know that."

"But I'm the only one here who knows what we're both thinking, and we're both thinking that I love you more."

"Just because you're the one dominating the relationship doesn't mean…"

A few seats down, Chris was downing his fourth glass of champagne as he tried to blur out the lovebirds sitting just a few seats down.

He groaned as his latest attempt was just as unsuccessful.

"What's the matter, Chris man?" Chef asked.

"OK, Alejandro's my friend and all, and his lovely girlfriend has been on a couple of my shows and all…but I can't stand it when they're together. They're the most love-obsessed, each-other-obsessed lovebirds on this side of the Atlantic!"

"Daw, I think it's sweet, man." Chef replied with a chuckle. "Young love, you know? I once knew a love like that…"

"As annoying as that one?"

"…no, it's not possible for us to love each other equally. One has to dominate this relationship in every aspect!"

"…I wish." Chef muttered.

"How much longer do we have to be here, anyway?" Chris complained. "What exactly is this dinner for? It's not exactly a fundraiser, Josh made that very clear."

"…oh, excuse me, my honey bee. I'll be right back."

And with that, the suave Spaniard carefully lifted Heather up off of his lap and set her down in the next seat. He scooted his own chair back and stood up, walking around several more seats until he stood behind his host friend.

"Chris?"

"Yes, Alejandro?" The host turned halfway in his seat, not actually looking at his friend.

"I was hoping I could speak to you for just a moment?"

"Uh, sure…"

Chris then scooted his chair back and slowly stood up, following his young friend around the table towards the door leading out of the room.

"Hey, hey! Where you guys going? The dessert's about to arrive!" Josh called after them.

"Not to worry, my host." Alejandro replied. "We'll be back in just a moment!"

The two celebrities then walked around the corner into the dark hallway.

"What is it, Al?"

"I was hoping I could ask for your advice on…something important."

"And what might be?"

"Um…I know it's something I should've asked for help on in advance, but…"

He reached into his pocket and quickly withdrew a small black case.

Chris recognized it instantly, and his eyes widened.

"Whoa! No way!"

"SHHHHH!" Alejandro shushed with a firm finger against Chris's lips. "The idea of a proposal is to surprise her!" He reminded Chris.

"So…" Chris whispered back. "After 3 years, you're finally gonna ask her."

"Yep! I'm more than ready…except for how I pop the question."

"You're asking me for advice on proposing? You know I've never been married."

"But you've had plans in mind for how to propose…once."

At the mention of the past trauma, Chris's head sunk. "Yeah…a long time ago…and never again."

"But I'm sure it would've been a fantastic proposal." Alejandro reassured him, with a hand on his shoulder. "Now I need advice on how I should do it. Ring in the glass? Make a grand announcement? Pull her aside privately?"

"No, no, and no. One: She might end up swallowing it. Two: That puts public pressure on her to say yes just because she's in front of other people. And three: If you want it to be a private matter, why pull her aside at a social gathering? What if she says no in private? Then you two have to sit next to each other awkwardly for the rest of the dinner."

"Hmm….good point, good point, and very good point."

"You really should've thought this through, you know…"

"Yeah." Alejandro pocketed the ring. "The only other person who knows is Josh…which is exactly what this whole dinner is for, actually."

"What?! You're insane!"

"SHHHHH!" He hushed once again.

Chris whispered, still with clear scorn in his voice. "You're insane! Why would you arrange a dinner like this if you're not sure how you're gonna propose?"

"Again…I wasn't thinking it through clearly enough."

Now completely ashamed, Alejandro brushed past Chris and walked back into the dining room, slumping back down in his seat next to his girlfriend.

"What is it, Al?" She asked with a slight hint of concern.

"Nothing…nothing…"

He then slowly reached over for his glass and took a long sip.

Dessert had been served, a majority of the plates were cleared, and the only people left were Josh, Blaineley, Chris, Chef, Alejandro, and Heather.

"Uh! Man!" Blaineley exclaimed. "I could eat cake all night long!"

"Yes, we know." Josh replied sarcastically. "Good thing there are no cameras to see your bloated beauty."

Blaineley responded with a rather unkind gesture.

"Alright, alright. All the cake is gone anyway, so I think it's time for you to leave now. I'll walk you to your car."

Josh stood up out of his seat and grabbed Blaineley's wrist, guiding the full and tired cohost up and out of her seat, and leading her out of the room.

Chef turned to Chris, who glanced back as the two hosts walked out of the room.

A few seats behind them, Heather, now clearly full and also exhausted, was leaning against Alejandro's shoulder, arms around him.

However, she soon straightened up and stretched her arms into the air with a long yawn.

"Oh, I'm so tired, honey…I think I'm gonna go now."

She slowly stood up, leaning over to give Alejandro a long kiss before she walked around the table and out of the room, leaving only the three men all on one side of the long table.

Alejandro glanced over at his host friend a few seats down, who simply glanced back with a shrug.

Alejandro stared at his nearly-empty wine glass, with only a minimal amount of champagne left. He stared as the bubbles rapidly rose from the bottom, fizzling at the top…

…several hours after it was poured.

Chris couldn't help but notice the way the wine continued to bubble.

"Um, Al?"

"Yeah, Chris?"

"Did you just pour yourself some more champagne?"

"No…this is only my second glass. I filled it about…"

He then finally noticed the oddity with the bubbles, and set the glass down suddenly in shock.

"…a few hours ago?"

But just then, he suddenly gasped and jerked backward in his seat, his arms cringing up beside him as he suddenly started gasping and gargling.

Chris and Chef were on their feet in an instant, racing over to him.

"Al? AL!"

He then flipped backwards entirely, the chair falling to the floor as he continued making wild noises.

"What the heck's happening?!" Chef cried.

Just then, Alejandro went completely limp and blacked out.

"Just as I thought!" Chris declared. He turned to Chef. "We don't have much time. Pick him up and let's go!"

Chris jumped up and swiped the glass still containing a little bit of champagne.

"We're gonna take him to the hospital ourselves?" Chef asked as he threw the unconscious Alejandro over his shoulder.

"No! Too far away! I know a better and closer place to take him."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure, just get to the car!" Chris called back as he ran out of the room, Chef behind him.

Just then, Josh came back in through the front door. When he saw his host friend dashing towards him, he moved aside and allowed Chris to barge out, carefully holding a wine glass.

"What the?! Chris! Where you going in such a hurry?!"

"No time to explain, Josh!"

"And what are you doing with one of my wine glasses?!"

"Like I said, no time to explain! I'll bring it back eventually!"

Scratching his head, Josh turned to walk back inside…

…only for Chef to barrel through and knock him over with a "Whoa!" followed by an "Oof!" as he hit the ground.

"What the heck?! Chef! What's happening here?! And what's up with Alejandro?"

"He…had a little too much to drink." Chef replied flatly as he arrived at the limousine, opening the backdoor and tossing Alejandro in alongside Chris, who was already inside.

"But…he only had two drinks." Josh commented blankly as he stood up and brushed himself off.

"Never mind it! Thanks for the dinner!" Chef replied as he climbed frantically into the driver's seat, starting up the car.

The limo screeched into reverse, spun around, and raced out of the gates of Josh's mansion, leaving the tabloid host scratching his head and muttering to himself in confusion.

Alejandro was strapped to the gurney, three long black straps holding him down across the chest, the waist, and the ankles. A single blindfold was placed around his eyes, and his chest rose and fell slowly as his breathing reached a normal pace once again.

"Man, I can't believe it actually worked!" Chef commented with a swipe of his brow as he carefully set the needle down on the tray next to the sleeping teen.

"I recognized the mannerisms of the drink and the immediate effects on Alejandro could've come from only one particular poison." Chris explained as he typed away furiously on the master computer.

Soon, an image of a small brown vial with a massive X on it appeared on the screen.

"Hyposinglecia." Chris replied.

"Hydro-what-now?" Chef asked with wide eyes.

"It's a poison that was concocted out of white wine, vinegar, some rare grains of wheat from Algeria, and a variety of other ingredients, all for the purpose of being used on…"

More typing.

Then the logo of one of his most recognizable shows came on.

"What Goes Down Must Come Up?" Chef questioned. "That show where the contestants had to constantly eat the nastiest stuff without retching?"

"Exactly. Not exactly one of my biggest successes, but it did spawn several new dastardly creations for the contestants to eat."

"Including a lethal poison?" Chef remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Chris spun around in his chair. "Hyposinglecia is lethal only in a significant dose." He defended. "A tiny, teaspoon-sized dose will only induce vomiting in all save for the strongest of steel stomachs. But it was heavily advised and reminded that a dose too large could be lethal…a dose like the one that was put in Alejandro's drink."

Chris walked over to the glass in question, the fizzing liquid still within.

"It's a good thing I always kept a series of antidotes and treatments for my past concoctions handy right here in the Host-Cave."

"Aw, man!" Chef commented as he facepalmed. "Really? The 'Host-Cave'? Really? It's not even a cave! This is just a very large basement that you never even used until now!"

"I'm calling it the Host-Cave, OK? I'm Hostman here, this is my mansion, and this is my cave, so I'm calling it the Host-Cave, got it?"

Chef grumbled to himself.

"Anyway…back to the matter at hand. The antidote cured Alejandro, but we haven't been able to figure out who did it."

"Well, obviously it was someone at the party." Chef deduced.

"Correct, my man. But what can be done to narrow it down even further? Cross-reference all who were at my party with those who were on or somewhat involved with What Goes Down Must Come Up. Contestants, producers, set designers, everyone!"

Chris then returned to the computer and began frantically typing.

"But how are we supposed to catch them, exactly? What are we gonna do to say that we figured out that they tried to poison a celebrity at a party that Hostman and Pythonicus weren't even at to begin with?"

"We'll take Alejandro to the hospital and tell them that he's passed out. The sedative effects of the antidote will make him appear to be passed out due to alcohol, so they'll surely take him in for one night. We'll inform several of the key people at the party, such as host Josh and Al's fi…ancy girlfriend, Heather." Chris caught himself quickly. "And anyone else who will appear as associated with the show. Whichever one is the culprit, upon finding out that Alejandro survived, will probably stop by to finish the job."

"Wasn't Josh one of the executive producers on that show anyway?" Chef commented.

"Yes, actually. So there's one…"

Chris continued typing.

"But we'll need the full guest roster. Pick up that phone and dial Josh's number. Tell him I want to talk to him, and if he's able to talk, put it on speaker."

"Gotcha."

Chef picked up the black phone next to the red Host-Phone and began dialing.

After four rings, Josh answered.

"This is Josh, talk to me."

"Yo, Josh. It's Chef Hatchet."

"Oh, yeah. The human bulldozer. What do you want?"

"Chris actually wants to talk to you."

"Sure, sure. Put him on."

Chef then pressed the button with the symbol of a megaphone and soundwaves emitting from it, then hung up.

"Josh, what's up my man?" Chris asked as he continued typing.

"Oh, not much, other than my last two guests rushing out on me with a third unconscious guest over their shoulder." Josh's voice complained over the computer's speakers. "What can I do for you?"

"Listen, you wouldn't happen to have a roster or list of some kind of all the people who were at the party, would you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Let me just go get it…"

They could hear a ruffling of the phone as a hand covered the speaker on the other end, and after about a minute, Josh's voice returned. All the while, Chris continued typing.

"Alright, you want me to read them off to you?"

"How many?"

"Um…33."

"Actually, could you just fax it to me?"

"Fax, Chris? Fax? I wasn't aware we were back in the 90's."

"Just please fax it to me, thank you."

Chris gestured over his shoulder, pointing at Chef, and then pointing at the fax machine in the corner. The large cohost lumbered over to it.

"And…done." Josh replied. "What's this all about, Chris?"

"Oh, I just thought I recognized one of your guests there. He looked like someone I went to high school with, but before I could formally approach him, he left."

"Oh, really?" Josh asked with genuine curiosity in his voice. "What did he look like? Maybe I can tell you right now who he is."

"No thanks, it's probably nothing. Just wanted to check for myself."

"Um, OK. Sure thing, Chris."

"Thanks. Talk to you later, bro."

Chris then waited until he could hear the clicking of the phone on the other end hanging up. A beeping signified that the signal was ended and no longer coming through the computer.

Chef returned with the piece of paper.

"Got the roster right here."

"Slip it into the analysis slot."

Chef did as he was told, and the paper was sucked right into the machine. A series of beeps and flutters could be heard, and several lights above the slot blinked on and off in rapid succession.

"OK…cross-referencing all 33 names with anyone who was involved with the show…"

He then hit "Enter," and only two names appeared, accompanied by basic information such as gender, age, height, weight, eye color, and a small profile picture of them.

"Sure enough; there's Josh at the top, as executive producer…"

"And there's Heather!" Chef pointed out, pointing at the name below him.

"So she was on that show!" Chris exclaimed. "I had featured her on several of my biggest shows, but this one was such a mediocre, under-the-radar product that I forgot all about who competed on it. OK, so it was either Josh or Heather."

"Again I say, how do you propose to catch whichever one of 'em did it?"

Chris stood up and walked over to the glass case where Hostman's outfit was hanging up.

A grin appeared on his face.

"A good old-fashioned sting, Pythonicus. A good old-fashioned sting."

Several hours had passed, and it was now steadily raining outside. The two masked men were more than ready, hiding in the shadows and watching as the nearly-poisoned teen slept peacefully in his hospital bed.

Josh passing through earlier had proved fruitless. He tried to talk to Alejandro, including an apology for allowing him to have too much to drink, only for no response to make him leave.

Now they were waiting on Alejandro's girlfriend, Heather.

By now, it was late hours at the hospital. There wasn't even an occasional nurse or doctor passing by out in the dimly-light hallway. There were only the two front desk attendants and the night janitor, who had already passed by and was several floors above them.

Both men had gotten so tired that they barely noticed the silhouetted figure that was now suddenly standing outside the window to his room, staring in ominously.

"Python!" Hostman hissed, tapping his partner's shoulder.

Both men, obscured by the shadows and a changing curtain, stared out at the figure, now more alert than ever.

It then slowly moved over to the door and silently opened it.

A flash of lighting outside illuminated the figure for a brief moment. It was none other than Alejandro's exquisite girlfriend. She was no longer wearing the long, black, elegant dress from the dinner before. She was wearing a short pair of tan cargo shorts and a very short red top with a single strap going around behind her neck.

She slowly strutted up to Alejandro's bed and leaned over him.

"Oh…my poor baby." She uttered, choking out a sob.

Hostman and Pythonicus straightened up, still unseen but now confused.

"How could they do this to you? How could anyone possibly do this to you…?"

She then slowly straightened up, reaching into her back pocket.

Then the all-too-familiar sound of a brief, metallic shink!

"…Except me, of course."

Both men had to hold in their gasps as she withdrew a knife, the blade reflecting some of the pale light from outside.

"And by the way…you really shouldn't have left the ring in the middle compartment of your car, where I left my phone. We probably could've been happy together had you surprised me…but now I have the perfect opportunity."

She then raised the knife.

There was the sound of a whooshing motion across the room, and a flat, black, microphone-shaped blade flew across the room in the darkness. She barely had time to look up before it struck the knife out of her hand, sending it flying across the room while the blade that hit her eventually lodged in the wall.

"AH! What the?!"

The two masked men then appeared, standing in the middle of the room across the bed from her.

"Oh, NO! Not you two clowns! What are you doing here?! How could you possibly be involved in this kind of business?! You two don't know Alejandro!"

"No…" Hostman replied. "But when the biggest teenage celebrity in all of Canada is poisoned, it's obvious that someone's responsible. And someone who would probably be determined enough to come back and finish the job."

"Very clever." Heather growled.

"Why, Heather? You two have been together for three years." Pythonicus added.

"Duh. The money, of course? I was going to inherit his fortune, as well as his title as 'Canada's Biggest Teen Celebrity'! All my life, since we've been together, we've both been involved with numerous reality shows and other stints, but somehow, his boyish charm and smooth one-liners managed to outfame my devious tactics and high performances on other shows! He gained more fame, more talk show appearances, and way more money! I want all of that! I WILL have all of that!"

"What makes you think you'll inherit his fortune?"

"Duh." She replied sarcastically again. "You were eavesdropping, you should know. I knew he was gonna propose to me. I thought he'd do it when he came back from talking to Chris McLean in the hall, which was a huge red flag for me. I thought he'd come back, propose in front of everyone – since that's what the dinner was for in the first place – and then drink as a toast. By that point, I'd officially be his fiancée, and I'd inherit everything! But he chickened out, and now here he is. We're not engaged yet, but it's too late to go back now. It must end here!"

"Oh, it will." Hostman replied. "For you. For your fame, your fortune, and your law-abiding life. You'll lose everything when you go to jail for attempted murder."

"Just try!"

She then leapt across the bed and delivered a flying kick into Pythonicus's groin with her sharp high heels.

The squeal that resulted out of the large man nearly transcended similar vocals made by communicating dolphins. He slowly crumbled to his knees, clutching his crotch in pain. He slowly began to lean forward just as Heather, having landed perfectly right in front of him after recovering from the kick, thrust her knee straight up into his face, sending him tumbling over backwards and crashing to the floor with a moan before he lost consciousness.

Heather then turned to Hostman, who quickly shot his hands down to cover his own groin.

Heather readied her fists and leapt at him, throwing one punch at his head that he narrowly dodged, followed by another from the opposite side, which he also dodged. She then swung her elbow at him, and he ducked under it before thrusting himself forward and headbutting her, sending her stumbling backwards and tripping over Pythonicus's unconscious body.

Hostman leapt through the air towards her, only for her to recover and leap over the bed to the other side of the room.

Hostman skidded to a stop and turned to face her just as she stood up again, having bent down a moment ago…

…to pick up her dropped knife.

In an instant, she raised her arm high above her before she swung it down and threw the knife at Hostman.

With a yelp, he ducked as it soared over his head, puncturing a clean hole through his cape as it fluttered up above and behind him, and continuing on until it similarly punctured the green changing curtains further behind him, lodging firmly in the wall once again.

Hostman straightened up and moved cautiously around the bed as Heather backed up slowly, stopping against the wall on the other side…

…right next to the firmly-lodged microphone-shaped blade from earlier.

Hostman's eyes widened as she turned to it and quickly yanked it out of the wall, aiming more carefully this time than she did with the knife. Hostman, still as cautious as ever, slowly began sidestepping and moving closer to the door.

With a yell, Heather threw it. Hostman ducked as it soared over his head, whipping around the room, over Pythonicus's unconscious body, over the bed where Alejandro lay, and right back towards Heather, smashing against her forehead and knocking her right off her feet. She flew backwards into the window, smashing against it and cracking it greatly without completely breaking it, and then fell to the floor.

The blade continued flying in a circle until it was stopped by Hostman's hand.

After pocketing the blade, he began laughing like crazy.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA! You didn't even know that it was a boomerang-type blade?! HAHAHAHA! No wonder you failed to kill him! You're stupider than I thought! Woohahahahaha-AUGH!"

His laugh, which distracted him greatly, was quickly cut off as Heather recovered and tackled him, grabbing him by the cowl and repeatedly punching him in the face. After several more tough blows, she wheeled around and threw him against the tray table next to Alejandro's bed, flipping over the tray and sending all of the items on it flying around the room: syringes, scalpels, magnifying glasses, everything.

Hostman sunk to the floor, exhausted and beaten.

Heather slowly walked up to him and grabbed him by the throat once more, delivering just one more punch that sprawled him out on the floor further from the bed.

Brushing herself off, she then casually knelt down and gently picked up a fallen syringe marked "Morphine."

Pressing down on the bottom of it, checking to make sure as a small bit of the sedative shot out, she turned and grinned at Hostman, slowly raising the syringe up over her head and holding it more like a knife or a club.

"Now, Hostman. It's time for you to take your medicine!"

"I…couldn't agree more."

The voice, all too familiar, from behind stunned Heather. Her eyes widened as she realized who the voice must have come from, but before she could even turn around, she felt a powerful force slam against the back of her head with a metallic CLANG.

With a final grunt, she fell forward, landing on the floor just next to Hostman. In the brief moment when her body was falling forward, her right hand – holding the needle – fell more in front of her rather than above her, and when she landed on the floor, she fell right onto the needle, the full weight of her body pressing down on the bottom of it and fully injecting herself with the morphine.

She was out cold in a matter of seconds.

Hostman shook his head and started to sit up, looking straight up at the one who had knocked Heather out for good.

It was none other than Alejandro, wearing only his patient's gown and holding the long metal bar to which his IV tube was attached. He stared at his unconscious girlfriend for a few seconds, then looked down into Hostman's eyes for a few seconds.

Then, with a final groan and a sigh, he dropped the metal bar and stumbled back onto the bed, collapsing onto the bed in exhaustion.

Hostman slowly stood up and brushed himself off. He reached into his belt and quickly withdrew his personal pair of handcuffs, securing Heather's hands behind her back as she lay face down on the floor.

He then slowly walked back around the bed towards Pythonicus, kneeling down to shake him.

"Hey, Pythonicus! Wake up! We've got to go NOW!"

With a few quick slaps to the face, the large man began to stir.

"Ooh…what happened?"

"I'll explain later. But all you need to know now is that Heather's been defeated and incapacitated, and Alejandro knows all about it. Our work here is done. We just need to get out of here, and fast."

As Hostman helped his friend up to his feet, he withdrew an unmarked cell phone from his belt, quickly dialing in the police hotline.

Once Hostman was done informing the police, as an anonymous tip, of what had happened, they moved towards the window.

Pythonicus opened it and slipped out first. As Hostman began to climb out, he looked back towards the unconscious pair, shaking his head now in shame one final time.

"Some break-ups are more painful than others, I guess."

He then closed the window behind them, and they vanished into the night.

Author's Note: And there you have it, readers! One of my favorite couples, fictionalized and vilified in this Batman-esque look at it. And, sadly, this will be the only time we see Heather in this story. I might as well let you know now that some villains will be one-time villains, and only a select few will appear more than once. But rest assured: The impact of this episode will be felt in later episodes, and this incident between her and Alejandro will contribute to a major change in Alejandro's character in later episodes.

Next episode: The return of our favorite villains combined into one body.