Title: Guardian Of The Decrepit
Rating: PG-13 for violence, some language
Spoilers: 2/5/01
Disclaimer: I own a guitar and, like Angel I can play showtunes very badly, but I don't own any wrestlers.
Summary: Jeff makes his move, but things were never meant to be easy
Author's Note: Possibly my suckiest title ever, lol!
RAW IS WAR, FEBRUARY 5TH, 2001
Jeff sighed, blindly flipping channels, never stopping long enough to actually see what was on.
"I'm so pumped for my title shot, Jeff," he murmured, mimicking his brother. "You can't come along to the arena, you're supposed to stay in bed. Remember to watch me on TV." With one last violent click, he turned the TV off.
He just lay there, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes. He heard a knock at the door but it was muffled, almost like a kick.
"There's no one here!" he shouted. "Everyone's at Raw."
All he received in response was another knock/kick.
Sighing again, he got up to answer it. "You know, I'm really not in the…Angel!"
Angel stood in front of him with a takeout bag in each hand and another in her mouth. Jeff grabbed the one from her mouth.
"Thanks," she said, grinning brightly. "Sorry I'm a bit late, the Chinese place took forever."
Jeff cocked his head. "I thought you were at the Georgiadome with everyone else."
"And leave you on your own to beat yourself up? Never."
Jeff smiled. "Thanks, Angel."
"No problem. Now, let's eat. I didn't know what you liked so I got almost everything. Don't worry, it's Matt and Lita's shout."
Jeff laughed. "Sounds great."
They ate almost in silence. Jeff watched her carefully, smiling at the look of concentration on her face as she worked her chopsticks and the way it changed to a frown if she dropped something. She raised her head and caught him looking.
"You're not hungry?" Angel asked, puzzled.
"Famished," Jeff replied.
"Just a slow eater, huh?"
"Something like that."
"Oh, okay." She continued eating and Jeff continued watching her. After a while she looked up again. "What? Do I have something on my face?" She reached frantically for a napkin.
Jeff laughed and shook his head. "No, you're fine." In his head he added, 'And then some.'
When they were finished, Angel, who was still feeling uncomfortable, gathered the half-empty cartons and put them back in their bags.
"I'll be right back," she said.
"Where are you going?" Jeff asked.
"I'm going to give these to charity…Crash Holly's not feeling too good after his match last night. Just call me Angel, guardian of the decrepit."
"Gee, thanks," Jeff muttered, feigning offence.
Angel grinned, glad their usual mood was back. "Later, Jeff. If you're depressed again when I get back I will be seriously pissed off."
"Yes, ma'am."
* * * *
"How's Crash doing?" Jeff asked when Angel returned.
"Not so great. He had a match with some guy called Chris Benoit and now he's almost dead."
"Been there. So, did he enjoy the leftovers?"
"Yeah, he did. And he's sorry he can't come down and watch Raw with us, but even moving hurts him a lot."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"I know. So it's just you and me tonight, Jeffy."
"I guess we'll survive somehow," Jeff said with a shrug.
There was a long uncomfortable silence which was finally broken by Angel.
"So, it must have been good to get back to training this morning."
"I wouldn't say good," Jeff replied thoughtfully, sitting down on his bed. "Depressing, yes. Painful, definitely. But good?"
Angel frowned and sat down beside him, putting her hand on his leg. "Oh, poor Jeff."
Jeff shrugged. "Those are injuries for you. They happen a lot, you just have to deal." He punched her lightly on the arm. "So, what about you, then? How's your training been going?"
Angel sighed and flopped back on the bed.
Jeff lay back too. "That good, huh?"
"Man, Jeff. I totally suck."
"Well, you've only been doing it for a week."
"Oh Lord, that's all? You know, I promised myself I wouldn't complain to you. My crap is nothing like you went through last week."
"It's okay," Jeff replied. "I like to know other people are having a hard time."
Angel looked up at him, offended.
"You're welcome," Jeff laughed. Angel smiled back at him and Jeff started to consider moving his arm so he'd be lying more or less on top of her. But he knew he had to speak or she'd get uncomfortable like she had before. "So, is it still the suplexes?"
Angel shook her head. "Nah, not really. I figured out a surefire way of breaking just about any suplex you can think of."
"And that is?"
"Kick your opponent in the balls."
Jeff cringed. "Well yeah, that works."
"Sure does. But, as Al rightfully pointed out, most of my opponents aren't going to be guys, so he makes me look for other ways instead. But when I get tired and sore I get really vindictive and I do it anyway."
"Poor Al."
"Poor Al? That's when he stops the suplexes and starts on other things like bulldogs, DDT's back body drops and powerslams. Frankly, I miss the suplexes. You can't break those others with a kick in the nads."
"We actually call them low blows," Jeff informed her.
"That's only because men like to use the word 'blow' in conjunction with that part of the anatomy."
"Oh, harsh!" Jeff cried.
Angel grinned at him. "Jeff, how do you break a back body drop? Those just about kill me."
Jeff frowned. "Did you see that one Buh Buh Dudley did to me the other night? I got more air than a dog with its head out a car window."
Angel laughed. "Well, that gives me a lot of hope."
Jeff smiled back. "You know what? We should try one," he suggested.
"What, here?"
Jeff nodded. "While I don't condone living room wrestling at all, I am a trained professional."
Angel giggled. "Jeff, I didn't want to say anything but I'm dead from this morning. One more drop could render me retarded."
"I'll be gentle," Jeff offered, rolling off the bed and getting to his feet. "I'll stand right here and put you over my head and onto the bed. We can just try and work out what you're doing wrong. It won't hurt, I promise."
Angel sat up, still deciding. "Would you trust this man?" she joked. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt any worse than I do already," she conceded, finally getting to her feet. "Let's do this before I change my mind."
Jeff put her in the right hold, glad she couldn't see him checking out her ass.
"Are you okay with my head this close to your groin?" Angel asked.
Jeff laughed. "I've had a lot of worse looking people than you down there. Chris Benoit, for instance. You ready?"
"I guess. I'm not staying here all night."
"Okay." He was planning to go easy on her, just lift her carefully and place her down on the bed, instead of throwing her. That, as it turned out, was his mistake. One second he'd lifted her to about head height. Ready for the final flip and the next he was lying flat on his back on the bed with Angel kneeling above his head. It was almost the exact opposite of what should have happened. Jeff blinked a few times, completely bewildered.
"Angel," he said finally. "Did you just hurricanrana me?"
Angel looked down at him. "You mean it worked?"
"Well it sure as hell wasn't a back body drop."
Angel's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, Jeff! I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
Jeff pushed himself up. "I'm fine, but here's a thought. Next time you're working with Al, try that again."
Angel grinned. "You want to try a DDT now?"
Jeff frowned. "Would you look at that? It's time for Raw."
"Great!" Angel cried, jumping back to sit on a pillow. "Put it on."
Raw was just starting as Jeff switched the TV on and took his place beside Angel. Matt and Lita were up first, causing Jeff and Angel to applaud loudly.
"Yeah! Go Matt!" Angel cried, while Jeff was more restrained, murmuring, "Come on, bro. Bring home the gold."
"Two seventeen pounds?" Angel repeated after the ring announcer, Lillian Garcia, had spoken. "Who weighs more?"
"He does," Jeff replied. "It's his belly, have you seen it?"
Angel nodded. "And his ass. He has a bigger ass than you do."
"What?"
Angel shrugged. "I'm human, Jeff. You have to look. Don't tell Matt, okay?"
"Don't worry, I won't," Jeff muttered as Chris Jericho made his explosive entrance. Jericho handed his title belt to the referee, took his shirt off and was just about to lock up with Matt when a third entrance theme played, causing both competitors to look at the stage.
Jeff swore. "That's just what we needed. Ignore him, Matt."
Matt was saying something to Lita, who nodded, a look of concern in both their eyes.
Jeff shook his head furiously and started pounding his fist into his palm. "I swear, if he does anything stupid I'm going to make him wish he'd never heard of Lita."
Angel grabbed his right arm, worried he was going to hurt it again. "Jeff, who is that guy?"
Jeff turned to look at her as the anger in his face mixed with surprise. "Lita hasn't told you? That's Dean Malenko."
"Dean Ma-what-o?"
"Malenko. He has a little thing for Lita."
"He does?" Angel frowned at the man on the screen. "A very little thing, by the looks."
"Yeah, you're not kidding. She's told him a million times she's not interested but he just keeps going. I can't even count the number of times he's screwed us just to get to her."
"Why haven't I seen him before?" Angel wondered.
"He must've got injured just before you showed up. Me and Matt…" He paused, choosing his words. "Dropped a ladder on his knee for trying to sneak a peek at Lita in the shower. He's been out ever since. You must have missed him last night when he was co-hosting Heat."
"Oh, that's too bad," Angel mused. "'Cause he's a hottie."
"What?"
"I'm kidding, Jeff. Come on, Matt!"
"Ignore him, Matt," Jeff murmured as Jericho surprised Matt from outside the ring. Jericho bitch-slapped Matt twice, then took him over in a huge belly-to-belly suplex.
"Ooh!" Angel cringed. "I guess he can't break those holds either."
"No kidding," Jeff replied, moving his right arm so he was now holding her hand.
Jericho threw Matt back in the ring and hit him with a big elbow.
"This is not good, this is not good," Angel chanted, squeezing Jeff's hand.
Jericho made the cover but Matt kicked out on two.
"Yeah!" Jeff and Angel cried.
Jericho continued his punishment of Matt, getting another nearfall before putting him on the turnbuckle for a superplex, but Matt threw him to the ground, then took him down with a flying clothesline which floored them both.
Matt got up first and took the advantage, dropping Jericho and then taking his shirt off.
"There's that tummy!" Angel cried.
Matt did his big leg drop and made the cover but Jericho kicked out on two. Meanwhile, Malenko had started walking down the ramp. Jericho bundled Matt upside down in the corner, but while the referee was checking on Matt, Lita brought down Jericho with a hurricanrana from the top rope.
Jeff clapped his hand on his thigh while Angel frowned. "I wish she wouldn't cheat."
"They've gotta do something to make up for Malenko," Jeff replied
"Yeah, but he hasn't done anything yet."
"Yet," Jeff echoed.
Matt made the cover and again got a nearfall. He then flagged the Twist of Fate but Jericho punched him and threw him from the ring. He landed at the bottom of the ramp and Lita ran to his side. As Lita helped Matt to his feet, Malenko ran down the ramp and shoved Matt, causing Lita to be pinned between Matt and the ring apron. Malenko continued beating Matt, then tossed him into the ring and ran back up the ramp. Jericho, who'd been arguing with the ref and hadn't seen what happened, caught Matt with a bulldog and then a lionsault. He hooked Matt's leg and got the three count, retaining his title.
Malenko slowly approached Lita, who was lying on the ground and holding her stomach, but just as he reached her, Matt spun him around and started punching him.
"Yeah!" Jeff shouted. "Hit him! Punch him!" He suddenly went quiet. "Look out, Matt, it's Saturn."
With two against one, Matt was on the ground, but just then Jericho came to his aid, attacking both Malenko and Saturn, before climbing into the ring and beckoning the Radicalz to join him. He got his wish, but not how he'd planned it, for, as he kept eye contact with Malenko and Saturn, Eddie Guerrero appeared from nowhere and attacked him.
"Who's that one?"
Jeff turned to her. "You've really missed out on meeting some prime jackasses, haven't you? That's Eddie Guerrero, another Radical." He held her hand tightly as Guerrero, Saturn and Malenko all beat up on Jericho. Matt tried to help out but Eddie hit him in the head with the Intercontinental belt, dropping him to the canvas. Saturn gave Jericho a powerbomb and pinned his legs. Guerrero dropped the IC belt on Jericho's head and climbed the ropes for the frogsplash.
Jeff cringed as Guerrero hit Jericho, gripping Angel's hand. "Everyone got their revenge, I guess," he murmured as Guerrero stood over Jericho, talking smack.
"What did Jericho do?" Angel asked him worriedly.
"He put him in the Walls of Jericho about a month and a half ago. I knew he'd be pissed when he came back."
"Those guys are assholes, Jeff. You have to get them back."
"Oh, we will."
They sat there in silence for a while.
"Hey, look, it's Molly!" Angel cried. "What's she doing?"
"Pacing a parking lot, by the looks," Jeff replied.
"Yeah, I know that, but why?"
"I think Michael Cole's going to tell us."
Molly informed Cole that she was waiting for the mystery woman who kept helping Raven, the hardcore champion.
"Do you know how much I weigh?" she asked. "Two hundred and seventy-five pounds, all of it muscle."
"Two hundred and what?" Angel cried. "I don't know my kilograms to pounds conversions that well but even I know that's way off. She's delusional."
Jeff laughed. "She's a Holly."
"Who's that Raven guy anyway?" Angel wondered.
She didn't have to wait too long to find out as they showed a replay of Crash Holly's match against Raven, and then showed him talking to Molly.
"Oh, he likes her," Angel noted.
"Lucky Molly, she's almost as lucky as Lita," Jeff replied.
"Oh, I don't know," Angel said reflectively. "He's kinda cute, in an anti-soap and water, grunge era throwback kinda way."
Jeff laughed. "When you put it that way. But trust me, Angel. He's bad news. He might look okay, but he's trouble."
"What, did he kick your ass some time?"
Jeff frowned at her. "I did meet him in a hardcore title match once, the last time Matt had an IC title shot."
"And you lost, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I lost, but you don't have to be so 'I told you so' about it." He was no longer holding her hand.
"It wasn't 'I told you so', it was matter-of-fact. You're an aerialist, Jeff."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Jeff asked, more pissed off than he'd intended.
"It means you're a high flyer, doing all these amazing moves and kicking plenty of ass. But hardcore's not about backflips and Swanton bombs. It's about kendo sticks and flour bombs."
"You valet for one hardcore rules tag match and all of a sudden you're an expert?"
"No, I'm no expert, but Steve Blackman is coaching me and I'm learning a lot."
"And you think that makes you hardcore."
Angel shrugged, frowning at his attitude. "Yeah, in a way it does."
Jeff shook his head and smacked his hands onto his thighs, refusing to meet her gaze. "Well, I've got news for you, Angel. It's never going to happen."
Angel spun her head and glared at him. "What do you mean by that?"
"There's no hardcore women's division and they sure won't let you compete with men."
"There's not one now, maybe, but when I get in…"
"No, Angel. It won't happen. Who would you compete against? Who else is hardcore?"
"Lita is…"
"No, no, you really think people will want to see you and your cousin beating the crap out of each other with deadly weapons? I sure don't. And you shouldn't want to do it."
"Well, Lita wouldn't be my opponent."
"Who then, Ivory? The closest she comes to knowing how to use weapons is hitting someone with her title belt every now and then."
Angel hugged her knees to her chest and pressed her head against them. "God, Jeff, you don't have to be a jerk about it."
Jeff immediately turned his head and his stomach about dropped out when he saw her.
"Angel," he started, putting a hand on her back.
Angel reached back and removed his hand, without lifting her head. "Don't. I'm not crying. You don't need to comfort me."
Jeff retracted his hand and put it on his own knee. "Angel," he tried again.
"I'm just so sick of having to prove myself all the time," Angel said suddenly. "This world you live in is filled with hypocrites and cheaters and you don't even know when you're doing it, half the time. I'm sick of people expecting opposites when I'm their valet. You know, none of them want me getting involved, but it's just dandy for me to get them weapons, help them set up ladders and tables or otherwise help them cheat. If that's not getting involved, what is? I'm sick of having to be valet at all after a full day of intensive training just so I can make enough money to follow you guys around the country. But most of all I'm sick of busting my ass in training sessions so I'll be good enough to compete at the highest level but when I do get there I'll just have to fight in cute little outfits against other women in equally cute little outfits. I'll never get to test my skills, my strength and endurance in the toughest division there is, the one where anything goes and the winner truly is the toughest S.O.B. around. I'll never be able to inflict on Steven Richards the same kind of pain he caused me, he caused Chyna, he caused God knows who else. So really, what's the point?"
Jeff took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh, come on, Jeff. It's exactly what you meant. Just…just forget it. I keep thinking AL Snow's delusional, Molly's delusional, well maybe they are and maybe they're not but I'm starting to think that I'm the one who's deluded. I mean, Al might take advice from a doll's head but at least he's not killing himself for a dream that's never even going to happen."
"You can get Richards back."
"Yeah, I know I can. I can keep finding out who his cronies are competing against and follow them in, then attack him with whatever I see lying around. Well, if that's the case, why don't I do it, huh? Why am I wasting Al Snow, Blackman, everyone's time when I should be at the Georgiadome doing just that? I'll tell you why. One tiny attack on Richards isn't revenge. He'll still be a jackass. I want him in the ring, no holds barred, anything goes, but there is one stipulation. There's no one at ringside. It's just me and Richards. And I want to punish him, for everything he's done and everything he's yet to do. I want to hurt him so bad he's weeping at my feet and he's promising never to do it again and he knows he'll have to keep that promise because if he doesn't I'll be there again and again and again until he finally realizes he can't treat people like that. And he'll look at me and say, 'I'm so sorry for everything I've done in my worthless life and I'll never do it again.' And he'll mean it. And then he'll ask, 'why do you have to keep beating me?' And I'll look him straight in the eye and say, 'Steve, it was for your own good'." She took a deep breath. "But that can't happen 'cause when I get close someone will say 'women don't fight men and if they do, it sure doesn't happen in a no DQ match.' Well, that's bullshit, Jeff. It's not worth it and I've had enough." She got to her feet.
"Where are you going?" Jeff asked meekly.
"I'm going to go pack. No point hanging around here. Thanks for setting me straight, Jeff."
Jeff leaped to his feet. He had to stop her. Trouble was, he didn't know how. Just then, he saw something fly through the air, hit the wall with a crash and fall into the garbage can in front of him. "What was that?"
"Fighting sticks," Angel replied. "I won't be needing them anymore."
Jeff leaned over and picked them up. "These are Blackman's sticks." He turned and noticed Angel was almost to the door so he ran over and cut her off. "How long have you had these?"
"A week. Come on, Jeff." She tried to get past him but he blocked her.
"Show me."
"What?"
"Show me," Jeff repeated. "You've had them a week so you should be able to do something. I want to see how good you are, whether or not you're hardcore."
"Well, we've already established that I'm not and never will be."
"Just work with me, Angel. This might be the last time I ever see you. All I want is a little demonstration."
Angel sighed and stepped back into the room. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"
Relieved, Jeff followed her inside. "Surprise me."
"Well, I can't spin them around my head while I do that Blackman dance. I can't kick that high yet."
Jeff liked the fact she'd said 'yet'. It meant there was hope. "Well, what can you do?"
Angel looked right into his eyes. "I can hurt you real bad, but I don't want to do that either."
"That's okay, Angel, I'm used to…" Suddenly his knees collapsed and he was falling, but before he hit the ground he felt a stick between his legs and then he was flying through the air. Jeff hit the bed with a thud and the realization that Angel had just performed Blackman's finisher.
She stood over him. "I can do that."
"Damn," Jeff mused, sitting up. "After one week? I'm impressed."
Angel shrugged. "Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? I'll never get to use it."
Jeff grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down beside him. "Angel, keep training, you have to."
"It's not worth it, I already said…"
"Get yourself signed and then we'll get us a mixed tag match. You and me against Richards and Ivory. I'll keep Ivory busy while you get your chance with Richards."
"It's not what I want," Angel protested.
"But you'll get your fair victory. And from then on Richards will have to look you in the eye and know you beat him, that you're better than him. And that'll be even better than physically hurting him because that'll get him right here." He tapped his head with his forefinger. "Cuts and bruises heal, Angel, but that statistic that says 'Jeff Hardy and Angel Torres defeated Steven Richards and Ivory' will last forever and Richards will have to deal with that."
Angel shook her head. "I want him one on one."
"You could get that," Jeff replied. "Chyna used to fight…and beat…men all the time and Lita took on Malenko once."
"I want to hurt him," Angel said patiently.
"What, back body drops don't hurt? Three perfect belly to back suplexes in a row don't hurt? Flying clotheslines don't hurt?"
"Okay, you've made your point, but what about the sticks? I feel like I could get really good with those."
"You can, believe me."
"But you said…"
Jeff cut her off. "I didn't mean it. I was pissed because you don't think I'm hardcore."
Angel gave him a look. "Serious? God, Jeff, don't listen to me. It doesn't matter what I think."
"Yeah, it does," Jeff insisted, causing Angel to stare at him curiously. "I don't want you to go, Angel." He picked up her hand and wrapped it in both of his own. "You're probably the coolest person I've ever met. Matt and Lita, they're into their own thing, you know, and they have so much in common that sometimes I feel like a third wheel. They try not to make me feel like that and I love them both, I really do, but I still feel like they don't understand me, that there's Matt and Lita, one entity, and then there's Jeff, who just happens to be Matt's brother. It's like the only reason I fit with them at all is because my last name's Hardy. Strange coincidence that happened at birth."
"Oh, Jeff," Angel whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Jeff returned her hug.
"But since you've been around, it hasn't been like that," Jeff continued. "When I first saw you it was like 'here's Lita's cousin come to visit. Wow, she's kinda cute'. But I didn't know how easily you'd fit in with the three of us. Suddenly it didn't matter if Matt or Lita, or even Matt and Lita were mad at me, 'cause then there was you, and you made it better just by being there."
"I never did anything," Angel started.
"You didn't have to. And it wasn't just me. All of a sudden Lita got her cousin, a fellow female, to talk girl talk and fashion and stuff. Matt got a kid sister to boss around and protect. Me, I got a best friend, someone who understands me. We all got what we wanted or needed and it's all because of you."
Angel was spellbound. She lightly pressed her palm to his face and stared into his eyes. "Jeff, I never knew."
Jeff smiled. "It's not even just us. It's Al Snow, Molly and Crash, the Kat…I mean, you actually managed to get Hardcore Holly and Blackman on the same page when just a month ago they were trying to kill each other. That really is amazing. You're amazing."
Angel studied him carefully. His green eyes were urgent, even pleading, and she was suddenly aware of the pressure of his hands on her back, of his arms being around her, of the fact that she was practically sitting in his lap. At that moment it seemed like the most natural position in the world for her to be in. He slowly slid his hands up to her face and they were soft, far softer than the hands of a man who made a living pounding the crap out of people should have been. Her gaze flickered over his lips; they were moist and twitching slightly. She felt his warm breath on her cheek, his hands on her face, his cheek and facial hair under her hands, his leg on her leg and she knew that in less than a second he would kiss her and she would let him.
And then the phone rang, shattering everything.
Jeff released her and she climbed out of his lap, as if she'd never been there at all.
"Um, I should get that," Jeff blurted, diving for the phone and not looking at Angel. "Hello. Yeah, she is. Angel, it's for you."
Angel frowned her surprise and took the phone from him. "Hello? Oh, hi Al. No, I didn't. You did? You do? Well, that's great! Who's it against? Oh right, okay. Just hold on a second." She covered the phone and looked over at Jeff.
"Al Snow has a match tonight and he wants you to be his valet," Jeff guessed.
"Yeah, that's right. If it was anyone but Al I wouldn't but…"
"You're asking me for permission again," Jeff informed her, though secretly he got a kick out of it. "I'll be fine. But you better hurry if you're going to make it in time."
Angel gave him a brilliant smile and uncovered the phone. "Al? Yeah, I'll be right there. Bye." She leaped to her feet. "Is this outfit okay or do I need to get changed?" She was just wearing her commando pants and black tank top.
Jeff smiled. "You look great."
"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you later."
"You're not going home then?"
Angel grinned. "How can I?" she asked teasingly. "You guys need me. Bye, Jeff." She turned to leave.
"Angel?" She spun around to find him holding out some money. "Cab fare. I'll call for one to meet you out front."
Angel took the money from him and kissed him on the forehead. "Thanks, Jeff. You're the best."
"No, Angel," Jeff murmured, watching her leave. "You are the best."
* * * *
"Al! Al!" Angel shouted, racing down the backstage hallways of the Georgiadome.
"Angel, I'm right here." He was standing behind the curtain, ready for his entrance. "You just made it."
Angel gave him a big hug. "Oh, hi Head!" she cried, ruffling its hair before turning back to Al. "I'm so happy for you, Al."
Al grinned. "Ask and you shall receive, I guess. So, are you ready?"
"Sure am!"
"Great, 'cause I still don't know who my opponent is, but I need you to take care of Head for me."
"You got it, Al."
* * * *
The music started playing.
"What does everybody want?"
Al and Angel (and Head) stepped out onto the stage.
"What does everybody need?"
Al hoisted Head into the air as Angel also raised her arms. They then ran down the ramp and dove into the ring.
"What does everybody love?"
Al raised Head again, a crazed look in his eyes, then handed Head to Angel, who also raised it as Al posed on the turnbuckles. He was interrupted by another entrance song so he climbed down to stand by Angel as his opponent appeared onstage.
"Who's that?" Angel asked.
"Benoit. Vince screwed me," Al scowled.
Benoit – the man who'd put Crash Holly out of commission the night before.
Angel patted Al on the back. "You can do it, I know you can."
"Right," Al muttered. "You better get out of the ring. This could get ugly."
Angel took her first good look at Chris Benoit and agreed with Al. Very, very ugly.
Al and Benoit locked up and the bell rang.
"Come on, Al!" Angel cried.
Benoit hurled Snow into the ring post, making Angel cringe. But this time Head wasn't telling her to interfere. If anything it was telling her that she'd be very wise to stay as far away from Benoit as possible.
Al got a few good hits in and Angel cheered and jumped up and down. But Benoit was back on the offensive, tossing Snow from the ring. Angel started to run over to him.
"Stay out of the way, Angel," Al cried as Benoit climbed down to meet him. Snow was ready with a kick and a couple of right hands, but Benoit whipped him into the steel steps and he fell to the ground, clutching his left shoulder.
"Come on Al, get up!" Angel shouted.
Benoit showed no mercy, kicking Snow when he was down, then lifting him back into the ring. Benoit pushed Snow around, then caught him in an armbar takedown, wrenching Snow's shoulder every chance he got. But Snow dug deep and caught Benoit in a huge suplex, leaving them both flat on their backs.
"Yeah Al!" Angel cried.
Al was up first, protecting his left arm as he punched an attack. With just his right arm, he threw Benoit with a back body drop.
Angel went wild as Al powerslammed Benoit then climbed the turnbuckle for a moonsault. He hit it but didn't go for the cover, instead climbing up for a second try. He made the cover but somehow Benoit kicked out.
"No!" Angel cried. "Come on, Al!"
Al was in great pain but continued his assault, only to be stopped as Benoit pinned his right arm and locked on the Crippler Crossface. Al was forced to tap out but Benoit still didn't release him for a few seconds.
"Here is your winner by submission, Chris Benoit."
Angel leaped into the ring to Al's side, ignoring the fact that Benoit was only a few feet away.
"Al, are you okay?" Angel asked worriedly, crouching next to him. She felt someone staring and looked up into the cold glare of Chris Benoit, which subsequently changed to a sadistic grin. Angel scowled at him and tried to help Al to his feet.
"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Al asked seriously as they walked slowly up the ramp.
"Are you kidding? He almost broke your shoulder!"
"True, but I haven't had a match on Raw in a couple of months. It was great!"
Angel laughed. Al sure was something else.