After dinner, Vince McMahon kept solidly to his word. Stomping heavily up the metal plated steps in the grand offices in Stamford, Connecticut, he was now more than ever determined to get to the very bottom of the fire alarm mystery. Even if that was the last thing he was ever to do.

"This is it, Coach." he rubbed his hands together in glee, standing directly outside the most Extreme room in the building. "We've got them! They must confess!" he cried.

"Uh, Sir, you don't know that it was definitely them..."

"Don't talk shit Jonathan, of course it was!"

Before Coachman had time to reply, Vince kicked the door down. His fists clenched, his forehead coated in sweat, he growled like an Alsatian with rabbis, ready to savage anyone opposing his authority.

As he barged his way through the door, a solo man waging war on a country, the Extremists blinked blankly at him; really, none of them cared less about this incident anymore. They knew they weren't to blame and that was that.

Puffing and panting, Vince glared at the combination of three men and two women. "Right, time's up, tell me exactly what happened the other night. You were the ones who set off the fire alarms, weren't you?"

Twisting there necks and shrugging to each other, CM Punk was the first to speak. "I'll admit, Vince, we weren't in our room last night at twelve o'clock."

"Ha, I knew it!" McMahon cackled, an enormous smile erupting across his face.

"He never said that." Sabu chimed in, his face creasing.

"Yeah, let the man finish!" Sonia barked, intimidating everyone in the room, at least a little.

CM Punk continued. "As I was trying to say, we were out last night at midnight, but we did not set off the fire alarms."

"And you expect me to believe that?" the Chairman scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, yes you should." Maria nodded, patting her boyfriend on the back in a dim fashion, nearly knocking him flying.

Coachman tutted, fiddling with his silk tie. "Well, if you five didn't do it, who did?"

Barely having time for him to spit the words from his mouth, the door flew open once again, no one comprehending just who it was trespassing.

"KHALI?" Vince's mouth dropped, his voice higher. "What the fuck are you doing in here?" he yelled, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Daivari scurrying after him.

"Mr. McMahon," the Smackdown Cruiserweight panted. "We have something to tell you."

The exasperated look on the Bosses face followed after minutes of inaudible shouting from the 'Great' one.

"Daivari, tell this fucking moron to shut up and tell me what the hell's going on?" Vince demanded, his voice alone meaning business.

Clearing his throat, Daivari began to speak. "What he is trying to say Sir is..."

"Get a move on, I haven't got all day!" The Chairman ordered, his expression as stern as his tone.

"What Khali means is Sir, basically, he is the one that turned all of the cameras off and set off the fire alarm."

"What?" Coachman sharply spluttered, the Boss imitating his actions.

"If this is a rib it isn't a very funny one." Vince scowled, knowing deep down exactly what the answer was to be.

"I'm afraid this isn't a joke at all." Daivari shook his head solemnly. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't stop him."

"Tell me what the hell happened...NOW!" McMahon yelled, his own distinct style of frustration becoming very apparent.

His lips frowning, Daivari began to reminisce. "Well, it all started off like this..."

Flashback

Waking from his sleep, Khali let out a disturbed mumble...well, no more disturbed than usual!

"What is it, the Great one?" his smaller partner quizzed, sitting up on the bunk below once hearing his grunts.

"MWAHLEHBAHAMAKIA!"

"Oh, you need the toilet?"

Suddenly, the ruler of the Smackdown Kingdom awoke from his slumber, disgusted at all of the noise being made. "What is going on, peasants?"

"It's ok, Khali needs the loo." the smaller man informed an unimpressed King Booker.

"You had better go with him."

"Me? Why me?" Daivari yelped, wanting nothing more than to stay snuggled up amongst the warm sheets.

"You're the only person stupid enough to understand a single word he is saying!" the six time World Champion spoke truthfully, for the first time in many months.

"Alright...C'mon, Khali." Daivari sighed, the unlikely duo heading outside, closing the door as quietly as humanly possible...for a man of over seven feet!

Managing not to cause so much destruction so far, the two men stumbled over to where their bathroom is...or was.

"Maybe we should use someone else's." Daivari decided, gazing down at the remains of the cracked floor below, the product of Khali's earlier clumsiness.

They strolled on for a few more moments, soon arriving at room number seven's facilities.

"We should be alright in here." Daivari decided, knocking on the door. There was no reply, Khali barely managing to open the door.

Abruptly, a scream came from the bathroom, a sight that either man ever imagined seeing; Mick Foley sat on the toilet semi naked!

"ARGH!" Khali cried, his body some how flying back in the wall. His head slammed against the video recording camera, dropping to the floor as his elbow smashed with a spasm into the fire alarm alert.

"QUICK - LEG IT!" Daivari urged hastily, Khali waddling as quickly as he could after the agile cruiserweight as many of the superstars began to appear from their rooms, the disruption of the over bearing sirens not a welcomed one.

End of Flashback.

"So you see, Mr. McMahon, Sir, it was a complete and utter accident." Daivari attempted to reason.

Jonathan stoked his chin. "Yeah, if you remember, Mr. McMahon, if one of the camera's is dropped all of them are broken - it's a problem with the wiring that we never did get fixed."

The chairman ignored the last comment, as Daivari's face lit up thinking he was not entirely to blame for the incident, hoping that the punishment would not be as severe.

"That's all very well and good but that still doesn't explain exactly what you five were doing." Vince re-directed his attentions, glad in a way that the majority of the bizarre mystery had been solved.

"I was about to get onto that." CM Punk began, a little agitated. "We were going to play a prank."

Seeing the Chairman's expression drop, Rob Van Dam - who quite frankly could care less - took over the situation. "When the fire alarm went off, we scattered, unsure as to whether it was a real one or not."

"Dammit!" Vince roared, his emotions extraordinarily high. "You people take the piss!"

"MWAHAOWABAOAHNTPAJ!"

"What was that, Daivari?" Jonathan questioned, no one in the room understanding a single word to come from the Giant's mouth.

"Basically, he said, he did need to take the piss."

Growling, Vince stepped away from the scene, peering to the car park below. "To say that I am unhappy with all of you is a vast understatement - just a minute, what the hell's Foley doing here?" McMahon's pitch heightened, thinking back to the memories of the Cruiserweight.

"He said something to Test about it being cheaper than heating his own house." Sabu piped up.

Turning to his Intern, the eldest McMahon sighed heavily. "Did you know anything about this, Coachman?"

"No, I didn't Sir, or I would have come and told you right away."

"Yes. After we've dealt with these jackasses, we'll kick that fat piece of crap out as well." the Boss decided angrily.

The Coach smirked wickedly. "Good plan."

"As for you 'Extremists' I am not going to fine you on this occasion because of you coming clean about the whole situation, eventually." Vince decided, much to the relief of room eight's occupants. "As for you two, you are spending the next five days in jail."

"Jail?" Daivari gulped, feeling an icy cold sweat droplet rain from his forehead.

"Well, down stairs in solitary confinement...with the two of you." Vince shrugged, not needing a reason to tweak his explanation.

"Uh, Sir, what are we gonna do? London's still down there...and we've only got one cell."

"Shit!" Vince cursed. "Kick him out for me, Jonathan. Part of Daivari's punishment is spending a hundred and twenty hours with Khali!"

As the door creaked open, a familiar face reappeared, much to the delight of the pranksters. "DAMN!" Called Ron Simmons, disappearing after a crowd of laughter.

Delighted to be freed, Paul London scampered back to his room, gratefully beaming in all of the sunlight Stamford had to offer. He couldn't wait to be back in the room where his friends were, even though he had to share with two men he couldn't stand, that didn't bother him at that moment in time as his grin continued to shine.

But would he be smiling for very long?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey first of all a big thank you to DX Diva, SaraHHH, I love ZigZag, The Heartbreak Babe and rebornandrenewed for reading and reviewing Chapter 10.

A few of you have said about the chapter length. Basically, I do it in shorter installments as I'm at school and you get more chapters in a shorter amount of time by me doing it like that.

Please review!