Title: Caged Retribution
Warnings: Language, violence, minor angst, adult themes
Spoilers: Some for Insurrextion, plus Raw, with direct dialogue from Chris Benoit, Edge and Christian
Summary: Jericho wants to end his feud with William Regal…inside a steel cage. Angel sees her chance to get away from Benoit for a night and jumps on it.
A/N: Yay, Chapter 50 :-) I really like this one…hope you see why later. It's for the writer of my hundredth review, SunsStorm, and for Em, Drea, and Melissa who know who they are, just because, well, I luv you guys!
A/N 2 - Yes, Angel does have remarkable healing powers…but then, most WWE superstars seem to, lol. And as for my email address? Um, I actually posted it in a previous chapter, but if you missed it, it's lyndelle@chariot.net.au Cheers all, and please review, I love hearing your thoughts and ideas!
RAW IS WAR, MAY 7TH, 2001
Triple H was standing in the ring, a look of outrage on his face and a microphone in his hand.
"Benoit!" he screamed. "You headbutted my wife, now I want your ass!"
'Shooter' played and Benoit calmly stepped out onto the stage, evil smirk on his face, ready for his rebuttal. He gripped the microphone and opened his mouth but suddenly, before he could say anything, someone pushed him and he was falling. There was a huge splash as he landed facedown in the wading pool the broads used for those damn evening gown matches. There was one going on right now, but they weren't fighting each other; they were holding him down, holding him under. There may have only been a foot of water, but he was facedown and trapped. He couldn't move. He flailed his arms wildly, but he was drowning, drowning…
Benoit sat up with a start. What a nightmare! Being caught in the middle of an evening gown match and held down by five semi-naked dripping wet broads as they tried to drown him. It was a disgrace to wrestling, that's what it was. Lucky it had only been a dream, he thought, wiping the water from his face. What the…? He was soaking wet and above him, Angel was standing with a Big Gulp-sized cup in her hand and a smirk on her face.
Benoit leaped to his feet and glowered at her. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
"Hey, I called you four times," she protested. "I had to wake you up somehow."
"So you poured half a gallon of water on me?" Benoit screamed, racing into the bathroom and grabbing a towel. "What's the matter with you?"
"Look on the bright side," Angel smirked. "I could have put your hand in warm water. We all know what that does."
"Bitch," Benoit spat, tearing off his shirt and hunting for a dry one. "What do you want, anyway?"
"Come on, Benoit," Angel teased. "You should be happy to have me back to normal."
Benoit caught her gaze and glared at her. "What do you want?"
Angel was unfazed. "I haven't trained in a week. I want to get back in the ring. And since we didn't train this morning…"
"I trained this morning," Benoit scowled.
"Well, I didn't. And that's our deal. You coach me, I manage you. Remember?"
"You have a broken arm," Benoit reminded her.
"True, but so does Kane," Angel shot back.
"You're not Kane."
"No, and if you don't start training me again, I never will be."
Benoit let out an exasperated sigh. "Get moving."
Angel grinned. "Why were you sleeping, anyway? It's the middle of the day. That's not like you."
Benoit turned back with one last glare. "I flew to England and back in three days. I'm jetlagged. Yes, I get jetlagged."
Angel shrugged. "You know, a better cure for jetlag is to sleep normal hours. That's what you should do."
"Princess," Benoit said evenly, shooting her a glare over his shoulder. "Never correct me."
Angel just grinned and followed him. Benoit was a jackass and her arm was broken, but it was surprisingly good to be back.
* * * *
Angel sat across from Benoit in the hotel restaurant as they ate a late lunch. She was feeling tired and sore but was undergoing that great adrenaline rush she only got after a good workout. Benoit hadn't let her get away with anything and her broken arm was a real disadvantage, but she still felt fantastic.
'What's the definition of a masochist?' she asked herself. 'Probably you, girl.'
"So, what time are we heading over to the arena?" Angel asked. 'Because I was thinking I might put in some more time at the gym. You know, to catch up what I've missed."
"We're not," Benoit replied solemnly.
"Excuse me? I guess I must have worse head injuries than I thought 'cause I swear you just said we're not going to the arena tonight."
"That's right," Benoit nodded. "We will be eating at WWF New York tonight."
Angel frowned as the wrongness of this statement washed over her. "Firstly, um, no, and secondly…you don't want a match? Are you serious?"
Benoit nodded again.
"Okay." Angel blinked heavily. "Can I ask why?"
"I have something that's worth more than a match," Benoit replied coolly. "Olympic Gold."
"That's funny," Angel told him, smiling sarcastically. "I don't think I heard 'O Canada' blaring across the hospital PA system at any point in time."
"You were comatose," Benoit reminded her.
"Oh really?" Angel cried. "Because I thought what happened was I had to talk to you for half an hour so I started beating my head against the wall until I knocked myself out. And this," she went on, raising her left arm. "Is just one of those little accessories that all the kids are wearing."
Benoit broke eye contact and concentrated on his food.
Angel sighed and turned to her own plate. "So, where are you keeping them?"
"Someplace safe," Benoit replied.
Angel looked up with a start. "You sick son of a bitch. They're down your pants, aren't they?"
Benoit held her gaze and nodded coolly.
Angel dry retched as a look of pure disgust passed over her face and she threw down her fork. "Oh God, Benoit. It's lunchtime!"
"You asked," Benoit shrugged.
"Yeah, and now I can't eat! God!"
"Cut the crap and eat your food," Benoit growled.
Angel sighed and picked up her fork.
"Why there?" she asked, still sick to her stomach.
"Because they're safe," Benoit said again.
"True," Angel nodded. "I mean, who's gonna venture down there? Other than Jericho, I mean." She smirked at Benoit as he formed his glare. "Speaking of Jericho, what's he doing tonight? Joining you in a romantic dinner for two? Blowing off work before you blow…"
"Shut up," Benoit cut in before she could even say it.
Angel smiled sweetly. She was quite prepared to take any victory she could get.
"Jericho is challenging Regal tonight," Benoit explained.
"Good luck," Angel sneered. "There's no way Regal's gonna be up for that. Not after what happened in London."
Benoit stared at her curiously before speaking. "Do you want to come to WWF New York tonight?"
Angel frowned. "You're giving me a choice?"
Benoit nodded.
"Then hell no, I don't. I'd rather drink paint."
Benoit nodded again, still cool. "Then you can go to the arena with Jericho and convince Regal to make his match. You don't have to valet for him."
Angel cocked her head inquisitively.
"Don't worry, you'll get paid. If you make the match," Benoit preempted her.
"And if I want to valet for someone else?"
"Normal rules apply."
Angel nodded thoughtfully. "So, you want me to work for Jericho tonight?"
Benoit blinked heavily. "He saved your life. It's the least you can do."
Angel thought about it. She didn't like Jericho any more than she liked Benoit, but Benoit was right, he had saved her life. Like it or not, she was indebted to him. All he wanted was a match with Regal. She was almost certain she could make that happen. And then she wouldn't have to feel like she owed him anymore. She wouldn't have to feel anything. Plus, because Benoit wouldn't be around, she'd be free to do as she chose. She would even be able to get Regal to pay up on his promised challenge to Benoit – another freedom match.
"Fine," she said to Benoit. "I don't see any problem with that. I'll go with Jericho."
"Okay," Benoit nodded. "He'll collect you when he's ready to go."
"Super," Angel enthused. "I'll be happy just so long as he doesn't go fishing for medals."
* * * *
Almost as soon as the car and the stereo roared into life, Angel turned down the volume. Jericho shot her a deadly glare but she held her ground.
"We need to talk and I need to be able to think. So sorry, buddy, but this is as loud as it's gonna be."
"Okay," Jericho murmured, pulling out into traffic. "Go for it."
"What kind of match do you want?" Angel asked, all business. "Because I'm ninety percent sure I can get it for you, we just have to work out what it is you want."
Jericho let out a sigh which he hoped wasn't audible. He knew it had had been too much to imagine that she would thank him for saving her life. But she was ready to do his bidding, at least on a minor level. He had to take advantage of that.
"I want a steel cage match."
Angel let out a surprised laugh. "You're kidding, right?"
Jericho scowled. "No, sister, I'm not. You get me a steel cage match with William Regal."
"Are you completely out of your mind?" Angel cried, still laughing.
"Maybe," Jericho shrugged. "Or maybe I want to give you a challenge. If you can get commissioner assclown to agree to a steel cage match with me, you can do anything."
"Well, you're right about that," Angel told him. "I can do anything."
"Good. So get me my match."
"Jerky," Angel said, confident smile still on her lips. "It's as good as done."
* * * *
"Miss Torres! You're back!"
Angel gave a smile and raised her hands. "Surprise."
"I am surprised," Regal agreed. "It just hasn't been the same around here without your smiling face."
"Aw, thanks," Angel grinned. "But anyway, I need a match."
"Of course," Regal agreed, turning to his clipboard. "Who does Mr. Benoit want tonight?"
"Benoit's taking the night off," Angel informed him. "I'm here about a match for Jericho."
"That toe rag?" Regal cried. "You're under the employ of that miserable wretch?"
Angel shook her head calmly "I still work for Benoit. I just heard a rumor that Jericho wanted you in a steel cage match and…"
"A what?" Regal demanded.
"I know. He's crazy. He clearly has no idea what you could do to him in one of those."
"And he honestly believes I'd agree to such a match?" Regal asked.
"Well, I think you should," Angel shrugged.
"You…you do?"
"Most definitely. Now I might not have been exactly lucid but I heard you destroyed him at Backlash. I also heard he got a lucky win at Insurrextion, in your home country. Don't you want revenge?"
"Of course, but…"
"Then this is perfect!" Angel grinned. "Steel cage match. No DQ. Just like Backlash. You're a shoo-in. And I have Jericho's word. After this match, the feud is over. You won't have to worry about besmirchment of his kind anymore."
"Is that so?" Regal frowned.
Angel nodded. "It's a win-win situation for you, commish. Plus, I'd be there to make sure you won."
"You would?"
"Yep. Remember you took a raincheck on my valet services at Backlash? Well, I think tonight, in a match such as this, when I could really help out, it being no DQ and all, would be a really good time to cash in."
Regal thought about this. "Are you sure I should sign this match?"
"Of course. The fans would love it."
"The fans," Regal repeated. "Well, there's no arguing with my friends the fans, is there?"
Angel slowly shook her head.
"Okay," Regal nodded. "You may tell the miserable toe rag he has his match."
"Yes," Angel cheered. "Y2J is going down!"
Despite her good mood, Angel had made no move to leave, something Regal noticed.
"Is there something else, Miss Torres?"
"Yeah," Angel nodded. "I was wondering when you were planning on taking on Benoit and setting me free."
Regal frowned but said nothing.
"You said you'd do it," Angel went on. "If I made the card on the Smackdown before Backlash and you approved it. Well, I did and you did. So, when's it to be?"
Regal frowned. "Miss Torres, I'm aware of what I said, but I'm afraid it isn't that simple."
"Why not?" Angel asked. "You could do it Thursday, no problem."
"I may be in no condition to fight on Thursday after a cage match tonight," Regal informed her.
"That's true," Angel nodded. "And we have to make you win. How about Sunday on Heat?"
"It's not that simple," Regal repeated. "I have many factors to consider – the wants and needs of other superstars, not to mention those of Mr. McMahon. I'm simply unable to plan that far ahead."
Angel frowned. "You're not going to fight him, are you? Come on, Regal. I need this. You're my last hope and…"
"I will fight him!" Regal snapped. "I made you a promise, did I not? There are many pressures of this job that you don't understand and they have to be taken into account. I will fight Benoit as soon as is humanly possible and not a second before. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Angel pouted. "I'm sorry."
"That's quite alright, Miss Torres, but you mustn't push this. I understand your urgency but this is out of my hands."
"Okay," Angel replied quietly. "Just…keep me informed, okay?"
"Of course," Regal told her. "Have a good evening, Miss Torres and I'll see you when it's time for my match."
Angel nodded solemnly. "Yep. See you then."
She sighed and headed to the door. That hadn't exactly gone brilliantly, but at least she'd done her job. Jericho had his cage match. That ended Angel's obligation to him. Now she was free to hang out with her friends…oh, wait. Edge, Christian and Rhyno were no longer her friends. She was having a lot of trouble getting used to that. Oh well, at least she'd made up with Lita…but Lita would be with Matt and Jeff. Angel sighed. There was always Trish. She smiled at this thought and opened the door to Regal's office, before noticing she was face to face with Chris Jericho.
"You know, I could have met you back at the locker room," she said irritably.
"No," Jericho shook his head. "Benoit told me to look out for you."
"Great," Angel muttered. "Well, as sweet as it is for you to offer your baby-sitting services, I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself."
"Sorry, baby," Jericho shrugged. "But I can't let you do that."
Angel scowled, knowing Benoit was to blame for this.
"Alright. Whatever." She started walking by his side.
"So?" Jericho asked.
"What?" Angel replied evasively.
"My match. Did you get it?"
"Of course I got it. Steel cage match, just like you wanted."
Jericho nodded, impressed. "Congratulations."
"Don't get too excited," Angel warned. "You're not going to win."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yeah, Jerky, it's so. Benoit told me I could valet for anyone I want. I chose William Regal. So you will lose. I'm gonna make sure of it."
"You what?" Jericho grumbled, raising his eyebrows.
"You heard me," Angel smiled sweetly.
"So, you're actually gonna valet for him this time and not just say you are?"
Angel broke into a grin. "Oh, you liked that little game I played with you at Backlash, did you? I thought you would."
"I'll have you know I put some random British chick in the Walls of Jericho because I thought she was you," Jericho informed her.
Angel laughed. "Then you're even denser than I thought. Geez, Jerky. Get a clue."
Jericho was about to protest, but at that moment they turned a corner and nearly walked into Edge and Christian. Angel's former friends froze and stared at Angel as though they'd seen a ghost.
"That's right, I'm back," she grinned. "How you guys doing, anyway?"
Edge and Christian looked at each other and then back at Angel.
"Fine," Edge replied uneasily.
"Great!" Angel enthused. "Listen, I've gotta go now, but I'll definitely see you guys round. Later."
"Bye," Edge and Christian echoed.
Angel turned to Jericho as they continued walking. "Well, that was fun."
"You're not afraid of those guys?" Jericho frowned.
"Hell no," Angel shrugged. "It just gives me license to be a bitch to everyone."
Jericho rolled his eyes. "Remind me to thank them later."
"Don't worry," Angel smiled, purposely taking him literally. "I will."
* * * *
Angel sat on her bench, watching the rest of Raw on the TV as Jericho loosened up for his match. Kurt Angle was battling Bradshaw from the APA when 'Shooter' played and Benoit appeared on the Titantron, digging into a typically nutritious meal. A maitre'd stopped by his table to ask if everything was okay.
Benoit smirked.
"I couldn't ask for more," he replied. "Hey, what kinds of credit cards do you guys accept here? To be more specific. Do you accept gold?"
He held up the gold medals.
Angel cringed. "Oh God. You know where he pulled those from, don't you?"
Jericho laughed from where he was stretching on the floor. "You want him bad, baby. You wish you were those gold medals."
Angel's stomach turned as she glowered at him. "And you wish you were Triple H. What's your point?"
She turned back to the TV, not noticing Jericho's glare. Bradshaw had just hit his clothesline from hell, but Kurt had hit the ground running, and running, and running, up the ramp and out of sight.
"Hmm," Angel mused. "I guess that means Bradshaw won. I'll have to find him and flash him as a reward."
Jericho just gave her a look.
"What?" Angel cried. "He'd appreciate it. He's been wanting to see me naked for months."
"Good for him," Jericho muttered.
They fell silent again as they waited for Raw to return from a break. When it did, Kurt Angle was in a parking lot.
"Hey Jericho," Angel called. "That's not your car Kurt's stealing, is it?"
Jericho's eyes flew to the screen and he only relaxed when he saw that it wasn't.
"You little bitch," he spat.
Angel just laughed and ignored him in favor of the TV.
"What the hell is this?" she cried. "Eddie Guerrero's in six man tag with the Hardyz against Edge, Christian and Rhyno? What's up with that?"
"Oh, you didn't hear?" Jericho asked. "Eddie saved me and Matt last Thursday on Smackdown."
"He did?" Angel cried. "Why?"
"Beats me," Jericho shrugged.
"This is messed up," Angel muttered as she watched Edge, Christian and Rhyno make their entrance. She was still having a lot of trouble believing that they had turned against her, that they'd attacked her. But it had to be true. For some reason she couldn't quite fathom she believed Jericho. Maybe it was because he had that frustrating ability to pull the truth out of her. Maybe she did the same to him. Whatever. Edge, Christian and Rhyno had nearly killed her. She'd thought they were her friends.
She tried to watch the match but her tears were making it hard to see. She was so confused. Suddenly, a cheer brought her out of her trance.
Lita was on the turnbuckle. She was going to go for the Litacanrana on Edge. Wham! She nailed it and stood over him, getting right in his face.
'Oh God,' Angel thought. 'She's doing it for me.'
Then, right behind Lita, Angel spotted Rhyno.
"No, Lita!" Angel cried. "Get out of there! He's gonna gore…"
Before she could finish, Rhyno took off. Angel's hands flew to her mouth, but before he connected, Eddie Guerrero got in the way. Lita was safe. Eddie was down, the victim of the gore. He'd taken the bullet for Angel's cousin.
"I don't get it," Angel admitted. "I just don't get it."
Neither, it seemed, did Lita or Matt, who were staring at Eddie, absolutely bewildered.
"Messed up," Angel muttered again.
She was quiet until the next match.
"Hey, who's that guy?"
Jericho peered up to find out for her. "That's Jerry Lynn, the new light heavyweight champ."
Angel was surprised. "Since when?"
"Pre-Backlash Heat," Jericho replied. "He beat…"
"Crash Holly," Angel cut in. "Hmm. He's little, he's arrogant. He looks kind of like what'd happen if you and Triple H had a kid. Or maybe you and Benoit."
"Maybe," Jericho shrugged. "But I think me and Benny's kid would be better looking than that guy."
"With Benoit as the daddy?" Angel cried incredulously. "Not a chance."
Before Jericho could reply, there was a knock at the door. Angel went to answer it.
"Hi Michael Cole. What's up?"
"Hello Angel. I'd like to get an interview with Chris Jericho, if I could."
"Sure," Angel smiled. "Come on in."
She hadn't even shut the door when William Regal arrived to collect her. "Miss Torres, it's time to go."
Angel nodded smugly.
"Hey Jerky," she called out. "Regal's here. I'll see you out there."
Jericho just glowered at her and turned to Michael Cole. Once this interview was over, it was most definitely go time.
* * * *
Regal and Angel stepped out onto the stage as the crowd booed. Angel ignored them and handed the microphone to the commissioner.
"Thank you, my girl," he smiled.
He gave a little speech about Rikishi and particularly Jericho, finishing with some ominous words, "So get your miserable little carcass out into that cage, and prepare to get the thrashing of a lifetime!"
Angel smiled and took the microphone from him, returning it to where it belonged and then following Regal down the ramp towards the ring and the cage. When Regal was inside the cage and ready, Jericho made his entrance. He looked absolutely livid, shouting insults as he strode steadily down the ramp.
Angel stood calmly next to the cage door. She waved at Jericho, a sweet smile on her face. He glared as he approached her, then lunged, grabbing her by the chin.
"You listen to me, you little bitch," he spat. "If you even think about interfering in this match, I promise you will never…ever be the same again."
Angel held his gaze. "Two words, Jericho. Screw you."
He pushed her away and she flailed her arms, trying to keep her balance, which she somehow did. Jericho fumed at her, tore off his shirt and thrust it into her face, then climbed the steps to the ring as she struggled to push the shirt away.
"Come on, Regal!" she growled. "Destroy him!"
She raced over to referee Jim Korderas, who was guarding the door.
"Hey, I wanna work the door."
"But I'm officiating," the ref argued.
"Yep, and I respect that. But it's no disqualification so that means I get to work the door. You just watch the match."
"I can't argue with that," the ref shrugged, stepping away.
Angel grinned and slammed the door, bolting it quickly. It was time for the match to start.
The rules of the match were simple. No pinfalls, no count-outs, no disqualification. There was only one way to win. Escape the cage – either through the door or over the top.
Regal and Jericho circled for a moment before Regal made a bolt for it. Angel was ready with the open door, but Jericho grabbed him and dragged him back into the ring. Angel sighed and locked the door again.
Jericho took the early advantage, stopping Regal long enough to start a climb, having decided that, with Angel in charge, there was no way he was getting through the door. However, Regal hair and dragged him back down to the canvas.
"Oh!" Angel cried as Jericho hit the deck. "That had to hurt!"
Regal could have kept climbing, but he didn't, choosing instead to punish Jericho. He walked slowly to the door, then stopped.
"Miss Torres," he called. "Lock the door."
"With pleasure," Angel smirked, doing as she was told.
Regal pounded Jericho relentlessly until Jericho scored a lucky clothesline and made a break up the cage. But Regal was on him and slammed him to the mat again.
"That's it!" Angel cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Alright!"
Regal even had time to stop and wave before raking Jericho's face over the wire of the cage.
"Not so pretty now, are ya?" Angel cried from the ground. "Not so pretty now!"
Regal hit a big elbow and continued to drag Jericho around by the hair before whipping him into the corner. He ran to attack but Jericho kicked out, then wearily climbed the cage, on his way to freedom. Regal sped to catch him, pulled him down onto the turnbuckle, then landed a huge superplex, which floored them both.
Angel looked on, concerned. Both men were writhing on the mat and there was a very real possibility that the first man up would be the one to leave the cage first. Despite her role as door bitch, the odds were even. Fifty-fifty. Angel hated that. She was going to help win this match, if it was the last thing she did.
So she curled her right hand over the wire and started to climb the cage. She moved her left arm next, but as soon as she tried to use it in supporting her weight, pain roared through her body and she almost fell back. She took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy. She'd have to use her left hand as an 'in case of emergency' anchor and concentrate on her right hand and her legs.
"Come on, Angel," she coaxed herself. "You can do this."
So she climbed. There wasn't much time.
'Okay, Angel,' she told herself. 'If you shave ten seconds off your time, you can turn off Jericho's damn music. Go girl, go.'
From the announce desk came aghast shouts.
"Angel Torres is climbing the cage! Is she out of her mind?"
"The girl has a broken arm. What does she think she's doing?"
Before Angel knew it, she'd reached the top. Below her, both Regal and Jericho were finding their feet. It sure was a long way down.
"You gotta do this, Angel," she told herself. "You've got to!"
She took a deep breath, crossed herself, and jumped.
Bam! Angel hit the huge hurricanrana and William Regal was down.
Angel rolled nimbly to Jericho's side.
"Come on, Jerky. Get up!"
She jumped out of the way as Jericho grabbed Regal and put him in the Walls.
"Um, Jerky," Angel called. "There's no submission."
"I know," Jericho hissed, throwing Regal face-first into the cage.
"Yeah!" Angel cried. "Alright!"
Jericho pounded Regal and whenever he let go, Angel was there with a few kicks and punches of her own.
"Hey Jerky. I'm gonna go for a moonsault, okay?" Angel asked, climbing to the top turnbuckle.
"Sure," Jericho nodded, slamming Regal into the cage and letting him drop to the canvas.
Angel flew and landed in the perfect moonsault.
"Alright, baby!" Jericho cried as she jumped to her feet again.
"Damn, that was fun!"
Jericho hit a side Russian leg sweep and went for the lionsault, but at the critical moment, Regal moved.
"Son of a bitch," Angel spat, kicking him viciously as he struggled to find his feet. He reached out and floored her with a hard left, then stepped up to the ropes and started to climb.
Angel bounded after him and grabbed his leg, trying to loose his grip, but he kicked out and sent her tumbling across the ring. Jericho stumbled forward and climbed up next to Regal. They grappled on the top rope, doing everything they could to make the other lose his grip.
Angel scowled and picked herself up.
"Arrgh!" she shouted, sprinting across the ring and launching herself.
She hooked her arms around Regal's body and tried to dislodge his grip, but it was just too strong.
"Let go, let go, let go!" Angel cried as Regal tried to shrug her off.
She held tight and shimmied up his body, hooking her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
"Let go!" she screamed, but still he held on.
Angel decided to chance it. Under the cast she could just move her fingers. Hopefully this would work. Still gripping tightly with her legs and right arm, she reached down with her left to grab her sticks. She couldn't grip them well and one clattered to the canvas. Somehow she held the other. One was all she needed. Squeezing her legs as hard as she could, she leaned right back, plunging her arm into Regal's neck as she hit his fingers with the stick, over and over and over. He couldn't hold on much longer. Gravity would take him down, his handholds would fail or he'd stop breathing in the chokehold. It didn't really matter which.
Suddenly, Jericho reached out and slammed Regal's face forward, into the cage. It was the last straw and he let go, landing with one leg either side of the rope. Angel slipped off his back as he stumbled around the ring, blinded by pain. She smirked, waited for him to approach her, then kicked him in the groin, grabbed his shoulders and brought him down in a DDT.
"Take that, commissioner assclown."
Meanwhile, Jericho was climbing the cage. Regal heard the crowd and knew he was almost out of time.
"You bloody tart," he seethed at Angel, summoning every ounce of strength to stumble towards the door.
"Shit, it's open," Angel muttered.
She jumped on Regal's back again, but this time he was ready, reached out a hand and shoved her to the canvas. She pushed herself up and looked over at Regal.
"No!" she cried out.
After everything she'd done, Regal was going to win. All he had to do was make it through the door. She had to stop him.
Without concern for her own body, she leaped again, this time over Regal, pulling him down into a sunset flip. The second his backside hit the canvas, she was back on her feet, climbing quickly through the door. She turned back and slammed it shut, right into Regal's face. There was a double thud as Regal hit the deck and Jericho's feet hit the ground. The ringbell rang and Angel squealed in delight.
"Yes!" she shouted, racing over to lift an almost dead Jericho's hand into the air. "Yes!"
Lillian Garcia was on the microphone.
"Here is your winner, Chris Jericho!"
Angel ran over to her. "Hey, Lillian, can I borrow that for a minute?"
"Sure," Lillian replied.
"Great." Angel held the microphone to her mouth and turned to the ring. "Hey, Regal! Commissioner Regal! Look at me!" Regal pushed himself up and gave her a besmirched glare. "That's right, it's me, Miss Torres. I have three things to say to you, Regal, so I'll make it quick. Number one. If you make me a promise, I expect you to keep it. If you don't, I get pissed off. This…" She signaled the ring. "Is what happens when you piss me off. Number two. One week ago, this man here, Chris Jericho, saved my life. He then spent a week of his own time in hospital making sure I was going to be okay. He was the first person I saw when I came out of the coma. You, however… Tonight, you didn't even ask me how I was feeling. You know what? That really bugs me. Number three, I was too nice to tell you before, and I've got nothing against the Queen, but if there's one thing I hate it's an anal retentive English coward. So you, Regal, you whingeing, whining, pommy, limey sack of crap. You can kiss my ass!" She threw the microphone down as the cheers of the crowd rang in her ears, then stepped calmly to Jericho's side.
"Okay, up you get."
She helped him to his feet and supported his weight as they started slowly up the ramp.
"I'm betting you want to see the trainer," Angel observed.
Jericho nodded wearily. "I'm betting you need to see a psychiatrist," he muttered breathlessly.
Angel raised her eyebrows and turned to give him a look. "I'd be careful what you say to me, Jericho. I think you've just seen you don't wanna piss me off."
"Yes, sister," Jericho murmured. "I think I have."
* * * *
"Come on, Jericho," Angel encouraged him. "We're nearly there, nearly there, and we made it." She knocked on the door to the trainer's room. "Hi, I have a patient for you."
The trainer peered at Jericho. "Come on in. I'm just finishing up with this one."
Angel entered the room and looked across to see who he was talking about.
"Eddie Guerrero," she blurted, approaching him with a frown on her face.
Eddie drew back. "Oh, come on, 'cita. I just got gored by Rhyno and I really don't need…"
"Shut up, Eddie," Angel interrupted. "I want to say something to you."
"Just say? You're not gonna hit me with your little sticks or whatever, huh?"
Angel eyed him smugly, hands on her hips.
"Eddie," she started before throwing her arms around him. "Thank you."
Eddie frowned, then patted her on the back. "You're welcome, 'cita. Thank me for what?"
Angel released him and drew back, a smile on her face.
"Just thank you," she shrugged.
Eddie nodded coolly before the trainer spoke.
"Mr. Guerrero, we're done here. You can go now."
Eddie picked himself up as a very injured Jericho lay down on the bench, ready to be examined.
"I guess I'll see you round, huh, cita?" he asked, giving her a wink.
"Yeah, maybe," Angel nodded coolly.
She turned back to Jericho, who was outlining his injuries to the trainer.
"Hey Jerky. Is there anything you need from the locker room?"
"Yeah," Jericho replied, wincing from the pain. "Can you get my bag?"
"Sure," she nodded. "I'll be right back. Take good care of him, okay?" she said to the trainer. "That man saved my life."
She left the room and walked quickly up the hall, a woman on a mission. Suddenly, she was grabbed by the right arm.
"Hey!" she cried, trying to wrench it free.
"I thought I told you to stay with Jericho," Benoit scowled.
"I am, I'm just…"
"You're just coming with me, that's what. Get your ass moving."
Angel scowled and let him drag her along, all the way down the ramp to the ring.
"Get that microphone," he ordered.
"Fine," Angel spat, picking it up and violently shoving it at him.
She looked up at the Titantron. Kurt Angle was in WWF New York and he looked stunned to see Benoit in the ring. Benoit smirked and taunted Kurt about the fact that he kept avoiding him. He then told Kurt that if he wanted the medals back, they'd be waiting in the ring for him on Judgment Day. All he had to do was go get them. Kurt immediately accepted the challenge.
Angel nodded to herself. Well, now it didn't matter that she'd had a falling out with Regal. It looked like Benoit had booked his own Pay Per View match.
Finally, Benoit wrapped up.
"I can see how stressed out you are right now so, to keep your mind at ease, well, just like I did in the United Kingdom, I'm gonna keep these medals in a very safe and warm place."
With that, he removed the medals from around his neck and held them in the air, then separated them and tucked one into his pants. Still holding the other one up, he got an evil glint in his eye, grabbed Angel by the shoulder and glared right at her.
"What are you gonna do?" Angel demanded. "That's sure as hell not going down my…"
Benoit said nothing. He simply bunched the medal up in his fist and plunged it into the front of Angel's tube top. Angel's mouth dropped open and she slapped him across the face, forcing him back.
"Not on your life, buddy," she screamed, shoving her own hand down her top and causing the already loud crowd to cheer even louder.
"Leave it down there!" Benoit demanded.
"Make me!" Angel challenged.
Angel sighed furiously and took a few steps backwards. "You make me sick, you son of a bitch."
Benoit smirked at her. "I'm glad you're back, slave."
Angel just shook her head and started up the ramp. She took off ahead of Benoit, swearing under her breath about the fact that something that had been touching Benoit's genitals was now in contact with her breasts. One thing was for sure – once back at the hotel, both she and the medal were in for a very heavy duty cleaning and disinfecting session.
She looked up and spotted Edge and Christian the same second they spotted her. All three jumped a mile.
"Hi guys," Angel greeted them, her smile sickly sweet.
"Hey Angel face," Edge replied, forming his sinister grin.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind and shoved her aside. Of course, that someone was Benoit.
"What the hell do you want?" he demanded, spreading his arms to protect Angel.
Christian stepped right up to Benoit, who now stood with his hands on his hips.
"Chris. We know you've got Kurt's medals, and we want them back."
"So you know what, Chris?" Edge added. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way."
"Well, there's two of you and there's only one of me," Benoit pointed out. "So I guess it's the hard way."
He lunged to get the first punch in on Edge, but he was soon double-teamed. Angel, who had leaped out of the way, looked on. This was Benoit's fight. She was best to just let it go, to let her former friends beat the crap out of Benoit, just like they'd beaten the crap out of her. Suddenly, her face contorted and she ran at Christian, him being the smaller of the brothers.
"Son of a bitch!" she screamed, fighting tears as she punched and kicked him. "Why did you do that to me? I thought you were my friends!"
"Get off me, hosebeast!" Christian cried, but she didn't back off, fueled by anger and despair. In that state, she could have beaten anyone.
The four of them battled down the hallway, until Christian finally dropped Angel, then grabbed Benoit's head and shoved him through a door.
Angel looked up from where she'd fallen and realized which room they'd chosen.
"Jericho! Help!" she cried.
She then jumped to her feet and raced after them. By the time she burst into the trainer's room, Benoit and Jericho had things under control, so she held the door open while they evicted Edge and Christian. Then she slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
Benoit nodded over at Jericho.
"Thanks," he panted.
"No problem, man," Jericho shrugged, reaching a hand to his back.
Now Benoit turned his attention to Angel.
"What the hell's the matter with you? You're injured and you attack a man twice your size?"
"He's not that much bigger than me," Angel scowled.
"He's a hell of a lot stronger. That man nearly killed you once. Use your damn brain."
Angel furiously shook her head, before focusing on Jericho. "I don't have your bag. He stopped me and made me go to the ring."
"That's okay," Jericho told her. "I'm done here. We'll go get it now."
Angel nodded and automatically stepped to Jericho's side. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Jericho smiled. "This trainer's a miracle worker. How about you?"
She nodded meekly as they started towards the locker room.
"Hey Benoit," Jericho called, slowing his walk so they were close enough to Angel to protect her, but far enough away so she couldn't hear what they were saying. "Go easy on her, eh?"
"Why?" Benoit scowled, confused over a scene between Angel and Jericho which was decidedly friendly. Since when had those two showed concern for each other?
"I'm just saying," Jericho went on. "She won my match for me tonight."
"What?" Benoit cried. "She did what?"
Jericho still spoke quietly. "She pulled the 'rana on Regal, ten feet off the top of the cage. Then she helped me kick the crap out of the assclown."
Benoit was shaking his head in disbelief. "Why would she help you?"
"I don't know," Jericho shrugged. "But she's got guts, that's for sure."
"I know that," Benoit muttered.
"Listen," Jericho finished as they reached the locker room. Angel was standing inside. "We'll stop by the AV people and pick up a tape. You really should see what she did. You'll be proud."
"Right," Benoit murmured.
The bitch helping Jericho. What the hell was the world coming to? Her motives had to be selfish; they always were. Regal must have pissed her off somehow. But Jericho didn't seem to realize that and that made Benoit uneasy.
'I don't know what she's doing,' he thought. 'But I'm almost certain I don't like it.'
With her, it seemed, he never did.
