Disclaimer: We do not own the WWF, nor are we in any way affiliated with them, blah, blah,
blah... you know the drill.
Azrael: Very long chapter alert! I kind of went crazy with this one. I also think that although
I went overboard, there are still more than a few holes in the entire thing.
Pyper: I thought that we orginally planned to have this at two chapters at the most?
Azrael: Oh shut up. I enjoyed writing this chapter. Of course if you would like to take the
next one then you're more than welcome to do so.
Pyper: And ruin your fun? I wouldn't dream of it!
Azrael: *Groans.*
IN THE AIR
The first thirty minutes of the plane ride had been smooth enough, if you could count out Jeff
continuously bugging Matt and Kurt continuously bugging Rock. And to think both of them were
in consecutive seats. Brawler looked like he would piss in his pants any minute and Kane was
still in his tense state.
William Regal, much to his misfortune, was fidgeting around nervously in between Bradshaw and
Faarooq. The two big men had at first been contented to smoke their cigars, despite pleadings
from the stewardesses that it was a non-smoking flight. This changed when Faarooq pulled out
a deck of playing cards in his back pocket. He plunked them down on Regal's folding table.
"What do you say, Bradshaw? Up for a game?"
"Hell, why not?" Bradshaw answered. He looked at Regal. "What about you, boy? You want to
join?"
"Really, I'd rather not." Regal answered stiffly. "But don't let me stop you. You two have your
fun."
"Oh come on." Bradshaw said as Faarooq began to deal. "Don't be a spoilsport."
"No really, I'd rather sit out of this one, thank you. Besides, I'm not really familiar with the
rules."
"Is that it, because you don't know how to play?" Bradshaw scoffed with a smile. "Hell, Faarooq
and I could teach you."
"Yeah, poker's easy." Faarooq told him. "You just listen to us and we'll have you playing like a
pro in no time."
Letting the APA teach you how to play cards. Not the brightest idea in the book, that's for sure.
Let's leave Regal to get fed to the sharks and check on the other passengers of this bizarre flight,
shall we?
Matt groaned as Jeff fidgeted for the nth time since the flight had started. Minutes after take
off an exhausted Jeff Hardy had fallen asleep on his brother's shoulder. Right now Jeff seemed
determined to make him a teddy bear, wrapping his arms around Matt and still sleeping peacefully.
Matt was hoping he wouldn't start sucking his thumb next or something.
Something flashed in front of him. He looked up to find Lita with a camera. "Do you mind, Lita?"
he snapped. "I have a reputation to think about, remember?"
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist." Lita said with a giggle. "You two just looked so cute!"
X-Pac craned his next from his seat to look at the brothers. He burst out laughing. "Aw, look at
that." He mocked. "Did you burp him before he went sleepy-bye, Matty?"
"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" Matt told him angrily.
"Uh-oh, I've made the big brother angry." X-Pac said, still snickering. "What you gonna do about it,
huh? What you gonna do?"
"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do if you don't shut the crap up." Hogan suddenly spoke up, putting
down his newspaper for a while. "I'm going to beat your ass all over this plane before making you
change places with Brooklyn Brawler over there in the back. Now watcha gonna do about that,
brotha?"
X-Pac scowled at him but thankfully shut up. Nash had completely fallen asleep and Hall looked
like his mind was preoccupied with something else so at that moment he didn't have back up, so
he thought it best to lay low for a while.
In the meantime, Hall fought the urge to slam his fist on the folding table in front of him.
"Goddamnit, I need some booze." He muttered to himself. He had tried to bring some in but
was stopped by some guards. He called for a flight attendant and mustered his best smile.
"Excuse me. You serve alcohol here, right?"
"Some wine, yes." The stewardess responded pleasantly.
"That's good enough." Hall said. "I'd like a bottle of the finest stuff, please."
Her smile faltered a bit. "Um, Mr. Hall, isn't it?"
"That's right."
"I'm terribly sorry, but all of us are under orders not to give you any alcoholic beverages for
the duration of the flight."
"What?? Who ordered that??"
"I can't divulge that information, sir. How about a soda instead?"
"Do I look like I want a soda??" Hall snapped. "I want whatever wine or beer you happen to
have stashed in there!! And I want it pronto!"
"I can't do that, sir."
From two rows back, Hurricane Helms looked up at the noise. "Scott Hall is apparently
aggravating that flight attendant. Wassupwitdat??"
"He probably just found out that none of the stewardesses have been cleared to serve him
beer or something." Test said in a bored voice from the next seat.
"We should stop him." Hurricane said.
"We? Forget it." Test scoffed. "If you want to stick your nose in other people's business and
get your ass kicked for it then go ahead. But it's not my cup of tea. If you ask me, I say let
her handle her own problems."
"That is a callous thing to say, Citizen Test."
"Do I look like a give a shit? Now shut up and quit bothering me."
Hurricane shook his head. People were so uncaring nowadays. He looked up to see that the
stewardess was still being bothered by Hall and couldn't get away. He stood up and walked over.
Hall saw him. "What do you want?" he snapped.
"Scott Hall, this woman has explained why she cannot give you what you have asked for. She
is just doing her job." Hurricane said.
"Does this look like it concerns you?" Hall said to him.
"I'm just trying to maintain order." Hurricane said. "Although I can suggest another way for you
to procure the alcoholic drinks you want."
"Really?" Hall's ears pricked up at that. "And how is that?"
Hurricane pointed to the second to the last row. "I believe Citizen Austin has somehow packed
more than enough beer for himself. If you want to could go and ask if he might spare you some."
Hall frowned at that suggestion. "I think I'll pass." He muttered.
The stewardess gave Hurricane a grateful smile. "Thank you." She said.
"Just doing my duty, ma'am." Hurricane said, prompting Christian to roll his eyes. If Hurricane had
a hat on he might have actually tipped it too. The superhero turned and went back to his seat.
"Always has to play the hero." Molly grumbled audibly as he sat down. "The big rescuer of damsels
in distress."
Hurricane sighed, then took out an X-Men comic from his bag and began to read, having nothing
better to do. Test looked at him and jeered. "You're still reading that kind of stuff? What are you,
the world's biggest pubescent nerd?"
"It's a hobby." Hurricane said, annoyed, not bothering to mention that his entire collection was
probably worth some ten grand.
"What the hell do you find so fascinating about that? Aside from the way the women are drawn…"
Hurricane pulled out another issue from his bag. "If you really want to find out you're welcome to
read any of the others I've brought."
"You think I'm into that kind of crap?" Test scoffed. "Keep your comic books to yourself, you super-
geek." He turned back to looking outside the window.
Hurricane sighed again and went back to reading.
"Damn, man, sorry Regal, but you lose this round." Faarooq said with a laugh as Bradshaw scooped
up the money pooled on Regal's table to add to the APA's collection box for lack of a better term.
"Bloody dumb luck." Regal declared, slapping his cards down in frustration.
"Hey, you can always win your money back in the next game." Bradshaw said. "What do you say?"
"But then you'll have to fork over some more betting money." Faarooq reminded.
Regal thought about it, looking at the thick bundle that Bradshaw was counting out. He took out
his wallet. "Deal." He ordered.
Bradshaw and Faarooq grinned at each other.
Michael Cole watched apprehensively as Rob Van Dam downed his fourth glass of orange juice that
flight. The normally laid back wrestler seemed to be on edge all of a sudden. And we don't mean
that Edge. Cole cleared his throat. "Something wrong, Rob?"
"Wrong?" Rob put down the glass and looked at him. "No, nothing's wrong. Why would you say
that?" he turned to hail a passing waitress. "Can I get another glass of this? Thanks." He said as
she nodded and left to get him what he ordered.
"You look a little jumpy all of a sudden." Cole said.
Rob drummed his fingers on the fold out table. "Jumpy? In what way?"
"Nevermind, forget I said anything." Cole said, arching an eyebrow before slipping his headphones
back on.
At that moment the stewardess came back with Rob's fifth glass of orange juice. Cole watched him
thank her, then proceed to drink it down again. Yup, something was definitely not right about that
guy tonight.
Speaking of guys not acting right, in the row right behind them, Kane was obviously still suffering
from apparent aviophobia. Spike was pretty much bothered by it, while Stone Cold seemingly couldn't
care less, as he had fallen asleep with two empty beer cans in each hand and the rest at his feet.
It was suspiciously quiet until Kane abruptly let out a choked cry. "GET ME OFF THE PLANE!!!" he
screamed from behind his red mask. He grabbed Spike and Stone Cold by the legs, prompting a
squeal from the younger Dudley and jolting the Rattlesnake awake. "You hear me?? I SAID STOP
THE PLANE!!!"
"Goddamnit, boy, get your hand off my thigh!!" Austin roared at him.
"And mine!" Spike shrieked again. His half-brothers looked in amusement from the two seats beside
him.
Every head in the plane turned to look at them. Austin had dropped his empty cans on the floor and
was trying to pry Kane's gloved hand from his leg. "Jesus Christ, son, get a GRIP!!" he looked around.
"Who the crap knew he had a fear of flying and never said anything??" He demanded.
From the back, Undertaker snickered but said nothing.
"Will somebody calm him down!!" Spike screamed.
Four rows up, Jackie sighed and unbuckled her belt. "Here, let me talk to him." She said, standing
up and going over to them. "Come on, Kane, let go of Spike. Easy now, that's a good boy." She said,
taking his hand and gently taking it off Spike's leg.
Spike gave a sigh of relief and bolted out of his chair. "You go on and take my seat for a while."
Jackie said. "I'll sit here with Kane first."
"Right." Spike said, zipping off down the aisle and dropping into the seat beside Sharmell.
"Hell, ain't no way I'm going to sit next to that crazy idiot." Stone Cold grumbled, kicking his beer
cans aside as he stood up. He took his bag from the overhead bin and proceeded down the aisle.
"First fire then this… hey you."
The unfortunate pyro-technician in the fourth row looked up. "Me?"
"Yeah you. We're changing places." Austin said.
"Since when?"
"Since now." Austin said. "Now get your ass up off the seat before I make you." He threatened.
The hapless guy stood up and let the Rattlesnake take his seat. He made his way to Stone Cold's
vacated seat to find the nearly seven foot Kane snuggling up to the some 5'3 Jackie. Hey, at least
he was the one who set off Kane's hellfire every night. That had to count as some sort of connection
between the two of them, right?
Back in the fourth row, Austin popped another beer and proceeded to drink it down. In the seat right
across the aisle, Scott Hall looked on enviously.
About seven rows back, Rikishi shook his head as he took off his headphones. "Oh man, this sucks.
Hey Edge, mind if I get out for a while? I'm just going to use the little hommies' room."
"What?" Edge looked alarmed, taking off his own headphones as well. "Wait, dude, you're going to
go?"
"Yeah, well, I can't hold it in any longer, man." Rikishi said as he stood up.
To Edge's horror, the Phat Man, and we mean really (PH)AT man, stood up and proceeded to try
and squeeze out of the row despite his massive bulk. "Listen, Rikishi, I can get out of my seat,
you know, if you just…"
"No, no, don't you worry about it, bro." Rikishi said, shaking his head. "I can do this. Maybe if you
lean back a bit…" he managed to put one foot past Edge and on the aisle. Edge stifled a scream
and narrowly managed to hit the recline button. Good thing he did, or he would have been a victim
of an accidental stink face; even with his seat all the way back, his face was barely two inches from
Rikishi large behind.
"Whoa, damnit, Edge!" Booker T said from behind him. "Do you mind?? You nearly made me spill
my drink all over myself!"
"I think he's worried about something else." Jazz said in an amused voice.
"Sorry about that." Rikishi said to Edge, Ivory and Goldust as they all fixed their seatbacks in the
proper position. Then Rikishi turned and continued to the bathroom.
Edge closed his eyes. 'Aw man,' he thought, 'I sure as hell hope that no one passes by him when he's
doing his business.'
Faarooq laughed as he held out a hand to Regal. "Too bad, Regal, you lose again. This really isn't
your day now, is it?" he said. "Now hand over the watch."
Regal scowled in frustration but reluctantly took off his watch and handed it over to Faarooq. Faarooq
laughed again, then looked over the accessory in appreciation. "Diamond-studded Rolex. Not bad,
not bad."
"I'll have you know that my great-grandfather gave that to me as a present when he died." Regal told
him coldly.
"And I'll be sure to give it to my great-grandchild when I die too." Faarooq said as he and Bradshaw
laughed together.
Regal was about to say something else when Bradshaw spoke up again. "You know, you can win it all
back again." He said.
"You said that two games ago." Regal said. "You know, I do believe the both of you are swindling me
out of my money and possibly the very clothes off my back!" he accused them.
"Regal, look at us, would we do that?" Bradshaw said, trying to look innocent.
"You're welcome to join another game." Faarooq said. "Like Bradshaw said, you could win everything
back, and even more. So what do you say?" by this time he had slipped the watch on and was waving
it in front of Regal.
Regal thought about it for a minute. "Deal." He growled.
Can you say idiot or what?
Val Venis frowned as Mr. Perfect looked at himself continuously in a hand mirror. "Do you mind
putting that down?" he said in annoyance. "The light's glancing off it and hitting my eyes."
Mr. Perfect looked at him disinterestedly. "Do you think looking this perfect is easy? I need to check
up on myself every now and then, you know."
"Perfect?" Venis scoffed with a laugh. "That's a riot."
Mr. Perfect looked at him in fury. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Venis said.
"People don't make that comments for nothing, most especially about me." He said, finally putting
the mirror down to glare at the person seated next to him. "You don't think I'm perfect? I'm willing
to bet that any woman in this plane right now would pick me over the likes of, I don't know, say you."
At that Venis' temper flared, but he forced it under control with a smirk. "You're actually interested
in women?"
"And why is that a surprise??"
"The way you think yourself as so perfect I was beginning to think that you were some self-absorbed,
gay idiot."
Behind them, Ivory slapped a palm to her forehead. She knew sticking those two together was a
bad idea.
Mr. Perfect bristled. "Is that what you think??"
"Yeah, that's what I think."
"Then you'll agree to a little wager, won't you?" Perfect said. "The two of us try and woo a any woman
on this plane. Whoever gets to have her leave with him when we land gets bragging rights on being
perfect, at least with the women."
"Fine, but on what condition." Venis said.
"What's that?"
"I pick the woman."
"You're on."
Trish looked up in annoyance as Jericho pressed on the buzzer to summon a stewardess for about the
thirteenth time in ten minutes. She groaned and spoke up. "Chris, what is it you want now?"
"This cappuccino's too bland." Jericho responded, practically leaning on the buzzer and looking around
impatiently. "I distinctly said to put in an extra teaspoon of sugar. But did they do that? No…"
A frazzled and very irritated-looking stewardess rushed up to them. "You buzzed?" she said dryly.
She had been one of the five that had been running back and forth at Jericho's command.
"Yeah, listen, this thing is seriously lacking in taste." Jericho said, handing the cup back to her. "Do
I look so stupid to as not to notice when you've scrimped on the sweetener? Throw this crap away
and get a new one." He ordered.
"Right away." The stewardess said, holding back a growl. Trish gave her an apologetic smile as she
left.
"People are so incompetent nowadays." Jericho muttered.
Trish put down the magazine she had been reading. "I cannot believe you." She said.
Jericho looked up from where he had been trying to locate a decent station on the radio. It was
hard to find one of those. He took off the headphones. "Did you say something?"
"Yes!" Trish said, exasperated. "I always knew you were an egomaniac but this is taking it a bit
too far, don't you think?"
"What do you mean?" Jericho asked, looking bored.
"Look at you, bossing people around like you're some kind of God just because you became the
Undisputed Champion."
"Hey, I happened to defeat both Rock AND Stone…"
"… Cold in one night for it." Trish finished, mimicking him. "Give me a break! Don't you think I
know the story? I've only heard it like a freakin' thousand times! And the only reason you won
was because Vince McMahon screwed around with the matches!"
"Gee, I don't know, Trish." Jericho said with a smirk. "I think when it comes to Mr. McMahon and
screwing stuff, you'd be the expert on that, wouldn't you?"
Trish reeled back with an open mouth, offended at his remark.
In front of them Hurricane looked up, but then went back to his comic book. Test noticed it.
"Well, aren't you going to see if you could save her dignity too?" he mocked.
Hurricane shrugged. "Ms. Stratus is more than capable of taking care of herself."
On the other side, Kurt was bored. He turned to the Rock, who happened to be on the brink of
sleep. "Hey Rocky, let's play a game." He suggested.
Rock opened a weary eye. "Kirk, if you hadn't noticed the Rock was in the middle of trying to
take a nap. Now if you don't want the Rock to take this in flight magazine and shove it straight
up your candy ass, the Rock suggests that you shut up."
"Oh come on, Rocky, it'll be fun." He said.
"The Rock is serious about the magazine, Kurt."
"We'll play with you, Kurt." A voice said from behind them.
Kurt looked up to see Billy and Chuck grinning down at them. They had stood up from their
seats and were looking down at the Olympic Hero and the Great One. Kurt, stupidly, grinned
back at them. "Okay. You guys know any good games?"
"Do we ever." Billy said, still with that same grin.
Alarmed, the Rock looked over to the seats in front of him for help. He found Jeff Hardy
snuggled up to Matt. He blinked. "What the crap is wrong with you people, is no one straight
around here anymore??"
"What the fuck was that supposed to mean, man??" Matt snapped.
At that Lita clicked another photo of the brothers. Matt turned a warning glare at her. "Right,
okay, no more pictures." Lita said. Still grinning, she sat back down on her seat.
A couple of rows behind where Rock was vainly trying to look for a way out of Billy and Chuck's
twisted perception of 'games,' Triple H was vainly trying to look for a way to get away from
Foley, who had gotten bored and was actually playing with Mr. Socko.
"Hey Hunter, want to hear about this new book I've been working on?" Foley asked.
"Sure, just put the sock away, okay?" Triple H said, looking warily at it.
Foley shrugged. "Okay." He said. He threw the sock backwards, making it land on top of Al
Snow's Head, uh, head. "I'm trying to write about my life after the WWF, but so far I've only
hit three hundred pages."
"And isn't that enough?" Triple H asked.
"Nah, for some reason my publishers want it up to five hundred this time." Foley said. "I haven't
thought up of a definite title, since I thought that would be kind of premature, but I was thinking
of 'Away: The Years After Vince McMahon.'"
"Don't you mean the WWF?"
"Yeah, that too."
Way in the back Brooklyn Brawler poked the crewmember across the aisle from him to get his
attention. "Hey, do you think you could change places with me?" he asked in a whisper.
"Are you kidding??" the crewmember hissed back. "Not in a million years, man."
"I'll pay you a hundred bucks."
"You'd pay me to commit suicide? Do you notice the obvious oxymoron in that?" the crewmember
scoffed, then went back to looking through a sneak peak of the Divas magazine that for some
reason he had obtained.
In the front David Flair looked grumpily at his father. "I still don't understand why you turned
down the executive suite on the second level when it was offered to you."
Ric looked up from a copy of the latest RAW magazine. "Didn't I explain that already?" he said.
"Being up there means I'd have a bigger chance of seeing Vince McMahon and hearing him bitch
about me stealing Austin away from him. I really don't want that crap right now, okay? Besides,
it's not like we're missing much, anyway. If this place is comfortable enough for the other
superstars then it's okay by us too."
David stood up a bit and looked at the guys around them. Rock was looking sick to the stomach
as Kurt giggled dumbly with Billy and Chuck. He was also trying to persuade Hardcore Holly
to change places with him. Brooklyn Brawler looked like he was about to piss in his pants.
Jericho and Trish were in the middle of a bitch fight, still relatively quiet but would definitely
escalate. Scott Hall was stealing furtive glances at Austin's beer, which the Rattlesnake was
guzzling like there was no tomorrow. Regal had lost another game and was handing his coat
over to Bradshaw. X-Pac was trying to peek around Hulk Hogan to ogle Lita. Kane was still
cuddled up to Jackie and wouldn't let go, but at least he was pacified. Tajiri and Kidman were
shooting death looks around a nervous Torrie. Rikishi still hadn't come back from the bathroom.
Test was trying to control his urge to read over Hurricane's shoulder.
David sighed as he sat down. Comfortable? Yeah right. It was going to be a long flight.
***
Pyper: Aviophobia. Hey, there's my new word for the day.
Azrael: Actually, there's also a fear of flying that's termed pteromerhanophobia. I wonder why.
Pyper: *Let's this sink in.* I'll stick with aviophobia. It's easier to pronounce, not to mention
remember.
Azrael: *Rolls her eyes.* We hoped you enjoyed this chapter as well. I know it's a little confusing,
considering that we crammed all these stars with their own little quirks and rivalries in one place.
And I just like sticking Kurt with Rock. I think it's still a hangover from - shameless plug alert -
The Fellowship of the Squared Circle, I Mean Ring.
Pyper: Hey, we're doing a chapter on Vince, right? Where he's in the executive lounge with...
Azrael: *Cuts her off by clapping a hand over her mouth.* Shut the crap up, idiot. Don't give the
rest of the plot away.
Pyper: *Muffled.* Mmmph!!
Azrael: Please review!!!
blah... you know the drill.
Azrael: Very long chapter alert! I kind of went crazy with this one. I also think that although
I went overboard, there are still more than a few holes in the entire thing.
Pyper: I thought that we orginally planned to have this at two chapters at the most?
Azrael: Oh shut up. I enjoyed writing this chapter. Of course if you would like to take the
next one then you're more than welcome to do so.
Pyper: And ruin your fun? I wouldn't dream of it!
Azrael: *Groans.*
IN THE AIR
The first thirty minutes of the plane ride had been smooth enough, if you could count out Jeff
continuously bugging Matt and Kurt continuously bugging Rock. And to think both of them were
in consecutive seats. Brawler looked like he would piss in his pants any minute and Kane was
still in his tense state.
William Regal, much to his misfortune, was fidgeting around nervously in between Bradshaw and
Faarooq. The two big men had at first been contented to smoke their cigars, despite pleadings
from the stewardesses that it was a non-smoking flight. This changed when Faarooq pulled out
a deck of playing cards in his back pocket. He plunked them down on Regal's folding table.
"What do you say, Bradshaw? Up for a game?"
"Hell, why not?" Bradshaw answered. He looked at Regal. "What about you, boy? You want to
join?"
"Really, I'd rather not." Regal answered stiffly. "But don't let me stop you. You two have your
fun."
"Oh come on." Bradshaw said as Faarooq began to deal. "Don't be a spoilsport."
"No really, I'd rather sit out of this one, thank you. Besides, I'm not really familiar with the
rules."
"Is that it, because you don't know how to play?" Bradshaw scoffed with a smile. "Hell, Faarooq
and I could teach you."
"Yeah, poker's easy." Faarooq told him. "You just listen to us and we'll have you playing like a
pro in no time."
Letting the APA teach you how to play cards. Not the brightest idea in the book, that's for sure.
Let's leave Regal to get fed to the sharks and check on the other passengers of this bizarre flight,
shall we?
Matt groaned as Jeff fidgeted for the nth time since the flight had started. Minutes after take
off an exhausted Jeff Hardy had fallen asleep on his brother's shoulder. Right now Jeff seemed
determined to make him a teddy bear, wrapping his arms around Matt and still sleeping peacefully.
Matt was hoping he wouldn't start sucking his thumb next or something.
Something flashed in front of him. He looked up to find Lita with a camera. "Do you mind, Lita?"
he snapped. "I have a reputation to think about, remember?"
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist." Lita said with a giggle. "You two just looked so cute!"
X-Pac craned his next from his seat to look at the brothers. He burst out laughing. "Aw, look at
that." He mocked. "Did you burp him before he went sleepy-bye, Matty?"
"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" Matt told him angrily.
"Uh-oh, I've made the big brother angry." X-Pac said, still snickering. "What you gonna do about it,
huh? What you gonna do?"
"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do if you don't shut the crap up." Hogan suddenly spoke up, putting
down his newspaper for a while. "I'm going to beat your ass all over this plane before making you
change places with Brooklyn Brawler over there in the back. Now watcha gonna do about that,
brotha?"
X-Pac scowled at him but thankfully shut up. Nash had completely fallen asleep and Hall looked
like his mind was preoccupied with something else so at that moment he didn't have back up, so
he thought it best to lay low for a while.
In the meantime, Hall fought the urge to slam his fist on the folding table in front of him.
"Goddamnit, I need some booze." He muttered to himself. He had tried to bring some in but
was stopped by some guards. He called for a flight attendant and mustered his best smile.
"Excuse me. You serve alcohol here, right?"
"Some wine, yes." The stewardess responded pleasantly.
"That's good enough." Hall said. "I'd like a bottle of the finest stuff, please."
Her smile faltered a bit. "Um, Mr. Hall, isn't it?"
"That's right."
"I'm terribly sorry, but all of us are under orders not to give you any alcoholic beverages for
the duration of the flight."
"What?? Who ordered that??"
"I can't divulge that information, sir. How about a soda instead?"
"Do I look like I want a soda??" Hall snapped. "I want whatever wine or beer you happen to
have stashed in there!! And I want it pronto!"
"I can't do that, sir."
From two rows back, Hurricane Helms looked up at the noise. "Scott Hall is apparently
aggravating that flight attendant. Wassupwitdat??"
"He probably just found out that none of the stewardesses have been cleared to serve him
beer or something." Test said in a bored voice from the next seat.
"We should stop him." Hurricane said.
"We? Forget it." Test scoffed. "If you want to stick your nose in other people's business and
get your ass kicked for it then go ahead. But it's not my cup of tea. If you ask me, I say let
her handle her own problems."
"That is a callous thing to say, Citizen Test."
"Do I look like a give a shit? Now shut up and quit bothering me."
Hurricane shook his head. People were so uncaring nowadays. He looked up to see that the
stewardess was still being bothered by Hall and couldn't get away. He stood up and walked over.
Hall saw him. "What do you want?" he snapped.
"Scott Hall, this woman has explained why she cannot give you what you have asked for. She
is just doing her job." Hurricane said.
"Does this look like it concerns you?" Hall said to him.
"I'm just trying to maintain order." Hurricane said. "Although I can suggest another way for you
to procure the alcoholic drinks you want."
"Really?" Hall's ears pricked up at that. "And how is that?"
Hurricane pointed to the second to the last row. "I believe Citizen Austin has somehow packed
more than enough beer for himself. If you want to could go and ask if he might spare you some."
Hall frowned at that suggestion. "I think I'll pass." He muttered.
The stewardess gave Hurricane a grateful smile. "Thank you." She said.
"Just doing my duty, ma'am." Hurricane said, prompting Christian to roll his eyes. If Hurricane had
a hat on he might have actually tipped it too. The superhero turned and went back to his seat.
"Always has to play the hero." Molly grumbled audibly as he sat down. "The big rescuer of damsels
in distress."
Hurricane sighed, then took out an X-Men comic from his bag and began to read, having nothing
better to do. Test looked at him and jeered. "You're still reading that kind of stuff? What are you,
the world's biggest pubescent nerd?"
"It's a hobby." Hurricane said, annoyed, not bothering to mention that his entire collection was
probably worth some ten grand.
"What the hell do you find so fascinating about that? Aside from the way the women are drawn…"
Hurricane pulled out another issue from his bag. "If you really want to find out you're welcome to
read any of the others I've brought."
"You think I'm into that kind of crap?" Test scoffed. "Keep your comic books to yourself, you super-
geek." He turned back to looking outside the window.
Hurricane sighed again and went back to reading.
"Damn, man, sorry Regal, but you lose this round." Faarooq said with a laugh as Bradshaw scooped
up the money pooled on Regal's table to add to the APA's collection box for lack of a better term.
"Bloody dumb luck." Regal declared, slapping his cards down in frustration.
"Hey, you can always win your money back in the next game." Bradshaw said. "What do you say?"
"But then you'll have to fork over some more betting money." Faarooq reminded.
Regal thought about it, looking at the thick bundle that Bradshaw was counting out. He took out
his wallet. "Deal." He ordered.
Bradshaw and Faarooq grinned at each other.
Michael Cole watched apprehensively as Rob Van Dam downed his fourth glass of orange juice that
flight. The normally laid back wrestler seemed to be on edge all of a sudden. And we don't mean
that Edge. Cole cleared his throat. "Something wrong, Rob?"
"Wrong?" Rob put down the glass and looked at him. "No, nothing's wrong. Why would you say
that?" he turned to hail a passing waitress. "Can I get another glass of this? Thanks." He said as
she nodded and left to get him what he ordered.
"You look a little jumpy all of a sudden." Cole said.
Rob drummed his fingers on the fold out table. "Jumpy? In what way?"
"Nevermind, forget I said anything." Cole said, arching an eyebrow before slipping his headphones
back on.
At that moment the stewardess came back with Rob's fifth glass of orange juice. Cole watched him
thank her, then proceed to drink it down again. Yup, something was definitely not right about that
guy tonight.
Speaking of guys not acting right, in the row right behind them, Kane was obviously still suffering
from apparent aviophobia. Spike was pretty much bothered by it, while Stone Cold seemingly couldn't
care less, as he had fallen asleep with two empty beer cans in each hand and the rest at his feet.
It was suspiciously quiet until Kane abruptly let out a choked cry. "GET ME OFF THE PLANE!!!" he
screamed from behind his red mask. He grabbed Spike and Stone Cold by the legs, prompting a
squeal from the younger Dudley and jolting the Rattlesnake awake. "You hear me?? I SAID STOP
THE PLANE!!!"
"Goddamnit, boy, get your hand off my thigh!!" Austin roared at him.
"And mine!" Spike shrieked again. His half-brothers looked in amusement from the two seats beside
him.
Every head in the plane turned to look at them. Austin had dropped his empty cans on the floor and
was trying to pry Kane's gloved hand from his leg. "Jesus Christ, son, get a GRIP!!" he looked around.
"Who the crap knew he had a fear of flying and never said anything??" He demanded.
From the back, Undertaker snickered but said nothing.
"Will somebody calm him down!!" Spike screamed.
Four rows up, Jackie sighed and unbuckled her belt. "Here, let me talk to him." She said, standing
up and going over to them. "Come on, Kane, let go of Spike. Easy now, that's a good boy." She said,
taking his hand and gently taking it off Spike's leg.
Spike gave a sigh of relief and bolted out of his chair. "You go on and take my seat for a while."
Jackie said. "I'll sit here with Kane first."
"Right." Spike said, zipping off down the aisle and dropping into the seat beside Sharmell.
"Hell, ain't no way I'm going to sit next to that crazy idiot." Stone Cold grumbled, kicking his beer
cans aside as he stood up. He took his bag from the overhead bin and proceeded down the aisle.
"First fire then this… hey you."
The unfortunate pyro-technician in the fourth row looked up. "Me?"
"Yeah you. We're changing places." Austin said.
"Since when?"
"Since now." Austin said. "Now get your ass up off the seat before I make you." He threatened.
The hapless guy stood up and let the Rattlesnake take his seat. He made his way to Stone Cold's
vacated seat to find the nearly seven foot Kane snuggling up to the some 5'3 Jackie. Hey, at least
he was the one who set off Kane's hellfire every night. That had to count as some sort of connection
between the two of them, right?
Back in the fourth row, Austin popped another beer and proceeded to drink it down. In the seat right
across the aisle, Scott Hall looked on enviously.
About seven rows back, Rikishi shook his head as he took off his headphones. "Oh man, this sucks.
Hey Edge, mind if I get out for a while? I'm just going to use the little hommies' room."
"What?" Edge looked alarmed, taking off his own headphones as well. "Wait, dude, you're going to
go?"
"Yeah, well, I can't hold it in any longer, man." Rikishi said as he stood up.
To Edge's horror, the Phat Man, and we mean really (PH)AT man, stood up and proceeded to try
and squeeze out of the row despite his massive bulk. "Listen, Rikishi, I can get out of my seat,
you know, if you just…"
"No, no, don't you worry about it, bro." Rikishi said, shaking his head. "I can do this. Maybe if you
lean back a bit…" he managed to put one foot past Edge and on the aisle. Edge stifled a scream
and narrowly managed to hit the recline button. Good thing he did, or he would have been a victim
of an accidental stink face; even with his seat all the way back, his face was barely two inches from
Rikishi large behind.
"Whoa, damnit, Edge!" Booker T said from behind him. "Do you mind?? You nearly made me spill
my drink all over myself!"
"I think he's worried about something else." Jazz said in an amused voice.
"Sorry about that." Rikishi said to Edge, Ivory and Goldust as they all fixed their seatbacks in the
proper position. Then Rikishi turned and continued to the bathroom.
Edge closed his eyes. 'Aw man,' he thought, 'I sure as hell hope that no one passes by him when he's
doing his business.'
Faarooq laughed as he held out a hand to Regal. "Too bad, Regal, you lose again. This really isn't
your day now, is it?" he said. "Now hand over the watch."
Regal scowled in frustration but reluctantly took off his watch and handed it over to Faarooq. Faarooq
laughed again, then looked over the accessory in appreciation. "Diamond-studded Rolex. Not bad,
not bad."
"I'll have you know that my great-grandfather gave that to me as a present when he died." Regal told
him coldly.
"And I'll be sure to give it to my great-grandchild when I die too." Faarooq said as he and Bradshaw
laughed together.
Regal was about to say something else when Bradshaw spoke up again. "You know, you can win it all
back again." He said.
"You said that two games ago." Regal said. "You know, I do believe the both of you are swindling me
out of my money and possibly the very clothes off my back!" he accused them.
"Regal, look at us, would we do that?" Bradshaw said, trying to look innocent.
"You're welcome to join another game." Faarooq said. "Like Bradshaw said, you could win everything
back, and even more. So what do you say?" by this time he had slipped the watch on and was waving
it in front of Regal.
Regal thought about it for a minute. "Deal." He growled.
Can you say idiot or what?
Val Venis frowned as Mr. Perfect looked at himself continuously in a hand mirror. "Do you mind
putting that down?" he said in annoyance. "The light's glancing off it and hitting my eyes."
Mr. Perfect looked at him disinterestedly. "Do you think looking this perfect is easy? I need to check
up on myself every now and then, you know."
"Perfect?" Venis scoffed with a laugh. "That's a riot."
Mr. Perfect looked at him in fury. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Venis said.
"People don't make that comments for nothing, most especially about me." He said, finally putting
the mirror down to glare at the person seated next to him. "You don't think I'm perfect? I'm willing
to bet that any woman in this plane right now would pick me over the likes of, I don't know, say you."
At that Venis' temper flared, but he forced it under control with a smirk. "You're actually interested
in women?"
"And why is that a surprise??"
"The way you think yourself as so perfect I was beginning to think that you were some self-absorbed,
gay idiot."
Behind them, Ivory slapped a palm to her forehead. She knew sticking those two together was a
bad idea.
Mr. Perfect bristled. "Is that what you think??"
"Yeah, that's what I think."
"Then you'll agree to a little wager, won't you?" Perfect said. "The two of us try and woo a any woman
on this plane. Whoever gets to have her leave with him when we land gets bragging rights on being
perfect, at least with the women."
"Fine, but on what condition." Venis said.
"What's that?"
"I pick the woman."
"You're on."
Trish looked up in annoyance as Jericho pressed on the buzzer to summon a stewardess for about the
thirteenth time in ten minutes. She groaned and spoke up. "Chris, what is it you want now?"
"This cappuccino's too bland." Jericho responded, practically leaning on the buzzer and looking around
impatiently. "I distinctly said to put in an extra teaspoon of sugar. But did they do that? No…"
A frazzled and very irritated-looking stewardess rushed up to them. "You buzzed?" she said dryly.
She had been one of the five that had been running back and forth at Jericho's command.
"Yeah, listen, this thing is seriously lacking in taste." Jericho said, handing the cup back to her. "Do
I look so stupid to as not to notice when you've scrimped on the sweetener? Throw this crap away
and get a new one." He ordered.
"Right away." The stewardess said, holding back a growl. Trish gave her an apologetic smile as she
left.
"People are so incompetent nowadays." Jericho muttered.
Trish put down the magazine she had been reading. "I cannot believe you." She said.
Jericho looked up from where he had been trying to locate a decent station on the radio. It was
hard to find one of those. He took off the headphones. "Did you say something?"
"Yes!" Trish said, exasperated. "I always knew you were an egomaniac but this is taking it a bit
too far, don't you think?"
"What do you mean?" Jericho asked, looking bored.
"Look at you, bossing people around like you're some kind of God just because you became the
Undisputed Champion."
"Hey, I happened to defeat both Rock AND Stone…"
"… Cold in one night for it." Trish finished, mimicking him. "Give me a break! Don't you think I
know the story? I've only heard it like a freakin' thousand times! And the only reason you won
was because Vince McMahon screwed around with the matches!"
"Gee, I don't know, Trish." Jericho said with a smirk. "I think when it comes to Mr. McMahon and
screwing stuff, you'd be the expert on that, wouldn't you?"
Trish reeled back with an open mouth, offended at his remark.
In front of them Hurricane looked up, but then went back to his comic book. Test noticed it.
"Well, aren't you going to see if you could save her dignity too?" he mocked.
Hurricane shrugged. "Ms. Stratus is more than capable of taking care of herself."
On the other side, Kurt was bored. He turned to the Rock, who happened to be on the brink of
sleep. "Hey Rocky, let's play a game." He suggested.
Rock opened a weary eye. "Kirk, if you hadn't noticed the Rock was in the middle of trying to
take a nap. Now if you don't want the Rock to take this in flight magazine and shove it straight
up your candy ass, the Rock suggests that you shut up."
"Oh come on, Rocky, it'll be fun." He said.
"The Rock is serious about the magazine, Kurt."
"We'll play with you, Kurt." A voice said from behind them.
Kurt looked up to see Billy and Chuck grinning down at them. They had stood up from their
seats and were looking down at the Olympic Hero and the Great One. Kurt, stupidly, grinned
back at them. "Okay. You guys know any good games?"
"Do we ever." Billy said, still with that same grin.
Alarmed, the Rock looked over to the seats in front of him for help. He found Jeff Hardy
snuggled up to Matt. He blinked. "What the crap is wrong with you people, is no one straight
around here anymore??"
"What the fuck was that supposed to mean, man??" Matt snapped.
At that Lita clicked another photo of the brothers. Matt turned a warning glare at her. "Right,
okay, no more pictures." Lita said. Still grinning, she sat back down on her seat.
A couple of rows behind where Rock was vainly trying to look for a way out of Billy and Chuck's
twisted perception of 'games,' Triple H was vainly trying to look for a way to get away from
Foley, who had gotten bored and was actually playing with Mr. Socko.
"Hey Hunter, want to hear about this new book I've been working on?" Foley asked.
"Sure, just put the sock away, okay?" Triple H said, looking warily at it.
Foley shrugged. "Okay." He said. He threw the sock backwards, making it land on top of Al
Snow's Head, uh, head. "I'm trying to write about my life after the WWF, but so far I've only
hit three hundred pages."
"And isn't that enough?" Triple H asked.
"Nah, for some reason my publishers want it up to five hundred this time." Foley said. "I haven't
thought up of a definite title, since I thought that would be kind of premature, but I was thinking
of 'Away: The Years After Vince McMahon.'"
"Don't you mean the WWF?"
"Yeah, that too."
Way in the back Brooklyn Brawler poked the crewmember across the aisle from him to get his
attention. "Hey, do you think you could change places with me?" he asked in a whisper.
"Are you kidding??" the crewmember hissed back. "Not in a million years, man."
"I'll pay you a hundred bucks."
"You'd pay me to commit suicide? Do you notice the obvious oxymoron in that?" the crewmember
scoffed, then went back to looking through a sneak peak of the Divas magazine that for some
reason he had obtained.
In the front David Flair looked grumpily at his father. "I still don't understand why you turned
down the executive suite on the second level when it was offered to you."
Ric looked up from a copy of the latest RAW magazine. "Didn't I explain that already?" he said.
"Being up there means I'd have a bigger chance of seeing Vince McMahon and hearing him bitch
about me stealing Austin away from him. I really don't want that crap right now, okay? Besides,
it's not like we're missing much, anyway. If this place is comfortable enough for the other
superstars then it's okay by us too."
David stood up a bit and looked at the guys around them. Rock was looking sick to the stomach
as Kurt giggled dumbly with Billy and Chuck. He was also trying to persuade Hardcore Holly
to change places with him. Brooklyn Brawler looked like he was about to piss in his pants.
Jericho and Trish were in the middle of a bitch fight, still relatively quiet but would definitely
escalate. Scott Hall was stealing furtive glances at Austin's beer, which the Rattlesnake was
guzzling like there was no tomorrow. Regal had lost another game and was handing his coat
over to Bradshaw. X-Pac was trying to peek around Hulk Hogan to ogle Lita. Kane was still
cuddled up to Jackie and wouldn't let go, but at least he was pacified. Tajiri and Kidman were
shooting death looks around a nervous Torrie. Rikishi still hadn't come back from the bathroom.
Test was trying to control his urge to read over Hurricane's shoulder.
David sighed as he sat down. Comfortable? Yeah right. It was going to be a long flight.
***
Pyper: Aviophobia. Hey, there's my new word for the day.
Azrael: Actually, there's also a fear of flying that's termed pteromerhanophobia. I wonder why.
Pyper: *Let's this sink in.* I'll stick with aviophobia. It's easier to pronounce, not to mention
remember.
Azrael: *Rolls her eyes.* We hoped you enjoyed this chapter as well. I know it's a little confusing,
considering that we crammed all these stars with their own little quirks and rivalries in one place.
And I just like sticking Kurt with Rock. I think it's still a hangover from - shameless plug alert -
The Fellowship of the Squared Circle, I Mean Ring.
Pyper: Hey, we're doing a chapter on Vince, right? Where he's in the executive lounge with...
Azrael: *Cuts her off by clapping a hand over her mouth.* Shut the crap up, idiot. Don't give the
rest of the plot away.
Pyper: *Muffled.* Mmmph!!
Azrael: Please review!!!
