Blood, Guts, and Raw is War
By: Scott Taylor
[Begin Chapter 3]
Flare was right. A rematch was scheduled for the next week--at Triple H's request.
The Game had walked into the Commish' office. Not intimidatingly--per usual--but carefully... Cunningly..? He had walked up to Foley who was expecting a verbal attack at any moment. But none came. Instead Triple H calmly stated his request.
"Will you arange a title shot for my friend, Mick?" Hunter braced his arms on the Commishioner's table, awaiting a response.
"For your friend? Not for you?" Mick was surprised. It had to be a trick. Triple H was only out for number one and everyone knew it.
"Yeah, my friend," Triple H reminded himself to keep his infamous temper at bay.
"Really, Triple H, you don't deserve--well, your friend doesn't deserve it. You've caused a lot of trouble in the WWF lately."
"...but...?"
"...I'll let you have the shot." Mick left out the fact he was only granting the title shot to him because he felt as if he had been tricked into letting Benoit having it. And whether he wanted to admit it or not The Game was better at representing the WWF than the Wolverine.
Triple H also had his thoughts that he didn't reveal. He was there for revenge. Stephanie had demanded Flare pay. This was the easiest way. He could have went for the belt himself, but that wouldn't be much fun and he prefered to stay on decent terms with the Radicalz. His friend would win or lose, but either way Flare was going to pay. After all, the Game had a plan.
The thoughts turned into a evil sneer and a dark chuckle. Mick joined in not comprehending what the hell was so funny.
And so Benoit had a title defense against an unknown challenger. Set up by Triple H--Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley's husband. It couldn't be good. And Flare had the worst feeling about who was the challenger.
"Benoit," Benoit's attention turned to her as she paced the room. He leaned back in the leather coach, listening to her, but relaxed. "If you have to fight... If you're fighting one of the Radicalz--your friends..."
"Then I'll win. Business is business and no one is taking this belt from me," Benoit smirked. "Is that what's troubling you? You think I'm going to chicken out? I won't."
"...I know..." Flare continued pacing, brushing her hair back with a worried hand. "I think the match may be against a friend of mine."
"Oh, really?" Benoit's nonchalance was starting to get on her nerves.
"You have to listen to me. If you're fighting my friend you don't do any more than you have to. You do what you must to keep your belt and you quit. Got that? No crossface crippler after the bell. The bell rings and it's over. You leave him alone. Okay?" Flare glared into his dark eyes as hers sparked.
Benoit didn't answer. He just grinned at her.
"Benoit, I'm serious about this," Flare continued glaring and Benoit was all but cracking up.
"Don't worry. We're on top of the WWF. No one can touch us." Benoit faked an innocence for his next question, "Who's your friendI, anyway?"
"Road Dogg."
"No problem."
They were the last match on Raw. The crowd was electric. They had gone from being heels to heroes in a week. Surprise, surprise. The crowd cheered them down the run way. Benoit climbed into the ring and offered the ropes for Flare, but just like last week she refused and flipped herself over the ropes to the crowd's delight.
Triple H's theme blared. He and a self satisfied Stephanie stepped out from the back.
Stephanie mouthed the words, "Going down" to Flare and motioned to her waist. She was saying the gold would be on their side.
"Over my dead bosy, bitch," Flare muttered.
Their entrance wasn't impressing Benoit either. He grit his teeth and yelled for them to send out whoever they were going to. Triple H raised his hand for silence.
"I was thinking that I would win the title, but then I thought again," he paused to smirk before continuing. "Then I decided to get a title shot for one of my friends--just like you did." Stephanie hung on Triple H's arm like a leech. The noise, the taunts, everything was giving Flare a head ache and Triple H's next announcement didn't help. "Benoit's opponent will be none other than The Road Dogg Jesse James!" Triple H crotch chopped the pair in the ring and retreated with his wife. The Dogg's music began. He stepped from the back without his usual laid back attitude and shrugged towards Flare. Flare nodded in understanding. Both friends would do what they had to.
"Benoit, you remember what I told you back stage. The bell rings and it's over." She then stepped out of the ring.
"Right," Benoit readied himself for the match as Lillian announced their statistics and such.
Road Dogg started the match with a drop kick aimed perfectly at Chris' chest. Chris dropped, but was back up in seconds. Road Dogg eluded him for awhile throwing in some punches until Benoit reversed and hit Dogg with hard punches that drove him to the corner. Benoit pulled him from the corner and executed a brain buster. Flare looked away from the match. Her Champion was winning, but her friend was being beaten. Every time she heard the thud of a body hitting the unyielding mat she winced. It may have been her imagination—it most likely was—but she heard Stephanie's shrill laughter mocking her. That drove her to look back at the match. She couldn't decide which to cheer for Or if she should cheer at all.
"End the match, Benoit!"
Benoit just held the prone Road Dogg and grinned at his partner. Then quickly he thrust his knee into Dogg's mid-section and snapped the Crippler Crossface on his opponent. Dogg tapped out after a few seconds of the excruciating pain. The bell rang. But the match wasn't over. Benoit pulled harder on the Crossface.
"Benoit! Stop!" Flare slid into the ring and tried to pry Benoit away from her friend along with the ref. Benoit shook his head no' and pulled even harder. Flare stood up and plunged her boot into the small of Benoit's back with as much force as she could gather when off balance. Benoit let go immediately and turned his rage on her.
"What do you think you're doing?! I'm the Champion! He's nothing!" He gestured to Road Dogg by kicking him in the ribs. "You're with me, now. Forget the loser."
"I can't! I won't! He's a friend, Chris," Flare looked at him with contempt. How could she have thought Benoit was a champion?
"Benoit gripped her on the arm so hard it hurt and pulled her close and almost whispered, "Leave him. We're better than him." She ripped herself away from him and tried to kneel to see how Dogg was, but Benoit pulled her back up. "Don't you get it? You don't need him."
She pulled back and with all her strength she could gather—again off balance—and slapped Benoit. His head swung down with the jarring impact of it and then whipped back up, his eyes gleaming like a cold rock. He threw her to the ground and put her in the Crossface Crippler. The pain was unbearable.
Then a flash of green and black and Benoit crumpled beside her. She didn't see anything past that because she passed out.
Flare wasn't aware when Road Dogg had picked himself up the mat and slammed the steel chair into Chris Benoit's skull. She also wasn't aware when he struggled with her lank body until she was draped across his shoulder. He stumbled up the ramp—in pain, himself. Then the remaining Radicalz stepped out menacingly from backstage. No chance. Then Benoit was up again and behind them. No chance of escape or to fight. The Radicalz grinned malevolently at him. While carrying Flare there was no way he could run—or fight for that matter and he wasn't about to abandon her. After all she had stuck with him
Benoit rubbed the back of his head, "You know, you're going to die for that." He sneered his sinister grin and shook his head to clear it of the fog that had settled in since the blow to the head, delivered by his new enemy, The Road Dogg.
Dogg's throat was dry. It wasn't long since DX had broken up—kind of. No one really knew 100% what was going on with DX—including him. He longed for the security of the group right now. They had had their troubles
The Radicalz closed in.
The weirdest thing popped into Road Dogg's head at that time. He recalled the theme music of the Corporation. "No Chance, cause that's what ya got" It almost sent him into hysterical laughter.
Benoit closed in, along with the Radicalz.
It seemed like he only blinked and Eddie Guerero, Perry Saturn, and Dean Malenko were at his feet with Chyna and Billy Gunn standing tall and looking at that moment like gods. Benoit backed off seeing his advantage had taken a turn for the worse.
"I'm still the champion. And I'm sure she'll see it, too," he took another step back, managing to still look menacing while retreating.
[End Chapter 3]
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