I've got my computer back... sort of. My files are all missing and it may be a few more weeks before I get them back, if I ever get them back. Well, no use griping, at least I've got a working PC now. Nothing like the hum of the system unit to inspire the mind again. Wait a minute, is that fan supposed to be making such a loud noise...?

Ah, whatever. Right now I managed to type down the tenth chapter of this fic as a sort of christening to this computer. I don't have the usual Microsoft Word, so this might be riddled with more typos and grammatical errors than usual, even though I double-checked it as best as I could. Oh, and for this and the previous chapter I finally did what I should have done in the first place: I checked a map. Now my places and timelines are a bit more accurate. Anyway, enjoy.

Date Uploaded: 15 November 2004

Chapter 10: And Another Makes Nine

Thankfully for the guys, Mick had one surefire ace up his sleeve. It was fortunate that one reason he had been late getting to the Seattle airport in the first place was that he had been on the phone with a certain rehabilitating superstar who happened to be spending a few days in Las Vegas. Now he dialled the given hotel room number, hoping that this wrestler had not decided to hit the slots just yet.

The phone was picked up on the fifth ring. A grumpy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Edge-ster! I'm so glad I caught you before you blew all your money away."

"Mick... what makes you think I haven't yet?"

"If you had you would either be so laden with booze and not be able to answer the phone, or your wife showed up to kick you in the nuts, in which case she would have answered."

Finally there was a laugh from Edge, signalling that his mood had lit up even just a little. "True, and true. In fact-- hey!" at this point Edge's voice moved away from the mouthpiece, apparently yelling to someone in the back. "No, no, please leave at least that one towel, I'm going to need it after my shower! And my clothes stay where they are!"

"Edge, what are you doing?" Mick asked suspiciously.

"It's not what you think!" Edge quickly insisted vehemently. "The maid cleaning out my room seems to be new and can't speak a word of English. My guess is she's from Puerto Rico. I'd flex my brain and try to root out any Spanish I know, but you remember what happened the last time I did that."

Mick had to grin, recalling Edge's attempt to tell an irate Mexican truck driver to move and accidentally telling him to screw a chihuahua.

"So, Mick, are you in town, or have you reached Phoenix by now?" Edge asked, finally turning away from the woman doing housekeeping.

"Not quite. Me and a few of the guys have been delayed."

"Delayed?" now Edge was the one who sounded suspicious. "You and a few guys? That sounds like the opening line for a long story leading to a big favor."

Nobody ever said Mrs. Copeland raised a fool. Mick chuckled. "And here I was thinking I was using my non-threatening, casual, Just-Calling-to-Say-Hi voice."

"No, that's more your I-Have-Something-I-Can-Use-to-Blackmail-You-So-You-Do-What-I-Ask voice," by this time Edge was definitely on his guard. "What is it this time, Foley?"

"I'd explain it all over the phone, Edge, but the guard's giving me the evil eye for taking so long already," Mick said, giving the officer one of his best smiles. "But come to the Beatty police station with eight thousand dollars and bail me, Jericho, Matt and a bunch of others out of here."

There was an extremely long pause on the other end. When Edge spoke again it was in a restrained voice. "I'm going to ask why you're with Jericho and Matt, or why you're in Beatty, not even why you're in jail. What I am going to ask, Mick, is why in the hell do you think I would travel the two hundred odd miles to that town and turn over that huge amount if money to get you out? What favors do I owe you lately to warrant something that big??"

"None," Mick said. "But if you don't come I'll find a way to spread that you enjoy listening to Hilary Duff's songs and have a Lizzie McGuire screensaver."

Another long silence followed that. And then Edge answered in a low growl. "I should never leave you alone with my PC again."

"Aren't computers wonderful?" Mick said, still grinning. "Is that a yes, Edge?"

"Assuming I can get this infernal woman not to make off with all my clothes, I'll be there in about two hours. Then I will bail all of you out, just so I can fucking kill you."

"Thanks, Edge. I knew I could count on you."

»»»

When Foley had returned to the cell the others, who really didn't hold much hope at this point, asked if he had come through merely for the sake of asking. Foley's reply was to nod cheerfully and go back to playing chess with the old guard, ignoring further questions from anybody else. Sure enough, in a little over two hours (enough time for Jericho to get into another fight, this time with an equally bitching inmate about their hair, Rene Dupree to attempt foreign immunity, Rob to discreetly ask Gregory if he could spare some urine in case the former was asked to give a sample, and Matt to gripe about cops rifling through their stuff, more panicked that they might have left traces of weed in the van) a guard strolled over and unlocked the door.

"You guys made bail," he said, looking even more relieved than the eight wrestlers did.

"And I was beginning to think Mick was just messing with us," Spanky commented as they filed out.

"Come on, Spanky, do I really look like the type of guy who would do that?" Mick said, adopting his best innocent look.

Spanky's answer was cut off when John Cena recognized the displeased-looking blonde waiting for them. "Hey, it's Edge! Didn't think it would be you Mick would sucker into bailin' us out, dawg. You happened to be in town or sumthin'?"

"Right," Edge snorted. "This is a two hour detour into my otherwise perfect week. You all owe me for this," he declared to the group, shooting Mick a particularly evil glare that was met with a non-plussed grin. The eight were gathering their confiscated effects as Edge barreled on. "I was just about to get some lunch and afternoon gambling in when all of a sudden Mick calls right out of the blue and asks that I bail you all out. It figures you would get into trouble simply passing through a town as quiet as Beatty!"

"For fuck's sake, Edgeward, you nag worse than my mother!" Jericho snapped at him. "Now I spent over four hours in that holding cell with these seven Cro-magnons and a bunch of other freaks who made them look civilized. Think you could stave off the bitching for at least an hour or so??"

The policeman behind the desk rolled his eyes, considering Jericho had been running his mouth the entire time they were there. It was safe to say that there was a general feeling of peace once the door had closed behind the group of eight plus one.

"I see your tongue is still intact, Jericho," Edge said dryly as they stepped out into the afternoon light.

"Yeah, and you'd think he would have worn it out by now," Spanky groaned.

Mick grinned at Edge and clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, thanks for coming to our rescue, Edge-ster. Don't worry, we'll pay you the eight thousand bucks back somehow. I think Helm's credit must be good, at least out of all of us."

Gregory started at that. "Really, Mick, must you keep volunteering me like this? I am no financial superhero, ehehehehe..." he reddened at having realized the error of his pun.

Edge gave him a weird look but then soon went back to complaining. "To top it all off, I had to take the bus to get here. You're passing through Vegas, right? Because I might as well hitch a ride; I'm not taking another Greyhound back to the city from here."

"Pushy, aren't you?" Matt grumbled at him.

"Damn right I am," Edge retorted. "And you can expect me to keep being so while I have eight grand hanging over your heads."

"If I paid you ten bucks right now how long would dat keep your mouth shut?" Cena inquired.

"Two minutes."

"Shit, fuck dat, then."

The party started to trudge over to where their vehicle had been towed and kept in the station parking lot. "How did you all end up in jail anyway? Mick, you haven't told me," Edge suddenly asked.

"Is that so? Then how did Foley get you to come here?" Rene asked in surprise.

"Because he's a sneaky, underhanded bastard, that's why," Edge said, throwing Mick another look of doom that the author took absolutely no notice of. "But I asked a question first. Now tell me how you ended up in a Beatty jail cell of all places?"

Matt tossed Spanky the keys but Jericho pushed his way in and caught them. "No way, pipsqueak, I'm driving. If not I'll make the rest of the trip a living hell from the backseat. Get in, all of you. You too, Wedge; we'll tell you the entire goddamn story if you're really so interested."

"Amuse me," Edge said, sqeezing into the backseat along with Cena and Gregory.

Rob had climbed into the storage at the back again. He let out a small noise of pleasant surprise. "They didn't search the van, I've still got some weed left from last night. Anybody interested?"

Moments later the van tore out of the parking lot, courtesy of Jericho's aggressive driving skills, and a bag with a small amount of pot flew out the window, courtesy of Edge. The latter object was picked up by two passing teenagers as the vehicle drove off.

cont'd

Now the group has an addition in Edge. Will he remain the grumpy voice of reason or will the immaturity and plain stupidity rob off on him in due time? What waits for the party in Las Vegas (hey, finally a place I'm familiar with!)? Will they make it to Phoenix in time for the show? Hopefully most of the answers to that will be covered in the next chapter!