{A court is in session
{The verdict is in
{No appeal on the docket today
{Just my own sin
First ever. Revolutionary. Never before seen. Bischoff's own creation. Madison Square Garden. Survivor Series, 2002. The Elimination Chamber.
Chris Jericho glanced at the sign as he walked by, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. He shook his head before resuming his count of the number of cracks on the floor; anything to clear his mind of tonight's match.
His wife had called about twenty minutes ago. "Chris you'd better be careful out there because I'm sitting in the fourth row. I don't know what I'd do if you hurt yourself. That Bischoff is such an ass for putting you in a match like this". He'd tried telling her that it was an honor, but she was quick to dismiss the idea.
There were some papers taped to the door when Chris walked up to his room. He ripped the two sheets down and pulled them open. Inside there were detailed measurements and drawings of "the Chamber". He felt his heart drop in his chest and crumpled the papers up, discarding them as he entered his locker room. He was about to shut the door when someone on the other side caught it with their foot, easing the door open.
"Hey buddy." Kurt Angle said cheerfully, settling himself down on one of the recliners. "What's going on?"
"Trying to get everything together before the match." Chris answered aimlessly, setting his ring wear on the arm of the couch.
Kurt looked up from the magazine he was reading. "That's right, are you nervous?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "No, why would I be nervous having the main event at Survivor Series in" He lowered his voice, finding that somewhere people would start cheering upon hearing the name. "Madison Square Garden?"
"That's a shame." Kurt grumbled, returning to the article before looking up again. "It's not fair. Your GM is inventive and mine is obsessed with Brock Lesnar and the tag-team titles."
"Tough. Do you have any hair bands." Chris trailed off and smirked. "Nevermind, you wouldn't need those, would you?"
Kurt jumped up from the chair. "I get the point. You want me to leave. All you had to do was ask." He reprimanded. "Good luck tonight, I'll be watching."
Chris watched him leave and turned back to face the mirror. That is not the look of a living legend, he scolded himself silently. The bottom of his hair was pink from neglect over the past week and was in dire need of a washing. The small beard on his chin made him queasy and there were bags under his eyes and his face was a nice pale color. He reached over into his bag and pulled out the razor. He uncapped it and shut the door to his bathroom.
{The walls are cold and pale
{The cage made of steel
{Screams fill the room
{Alone I drop and kneel
He came out about half an hour later, a towel secure around his waist. He sidestepped the small red puddle and walked back over to the mirror. He wiped away the steam with an impatient swipe and now glanced at his reflection, feeling a lot better with what stared back at him.
There were still bags under his eyes, but that was nothing that one of the divas couldn't fix. He rubbed his chin and was happy with his decision to shave it all off. All the red/pink had, thankfully, washed out of his hair with no problem and he pulled it back into a loose ponytail before throwing on some sweatpants and going to search for any of the divas.
Chris scanned the empty hallways and wondered briefly if there was a meeting going on that he wasn't aware of. He walked up to the Diva's locker room and knocked lightly and waited for some answer.
"Who's there?" A voice called lightly from inside.
"It's Chris." He replied, waiting for the door to be opened,
It did and Stacy stood in front of him, hands on her hips. She saw who it was and smiled. "What's going on?"
He walked into the room after Stacy checked that everyone was decent and sat down in front of the mirror. "I look like shit." He said simply.
Stacy sat on the counter in front of him and nodded, picking up her make-up bag. "Close your eyes or else it's gonna sting."
"What have you been doing to yourself?" Molly asked, sitting on the chair next to him.
"Practically killing myself getting ready for this match." Chris muttered, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He felt a hand on his shoulder and then heard a reassuring voice.
"You'll be fine." Trish assured. "Hey, you got rid of the red in your hair."
"Yeah, it was a pain in the ass to keep up so I washed it all out." Chris answered, wondering if they had anything better to do then study him.
There was silence and then five minutes later Stacy's voice saying that he was all done.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring straight at the perfect portrait of a living legend. "Thanks Stacy." He complimented, giving her a quick hug. He said goodbye to everyone else and left the room feeling a lot better.
"Hey Chris, good luck!" Stephanie McMahon called to him from the other side of the hall. "Kick some ass for me." She winked and retreated into her office for the night.
Chris grinned and went back to his locker room. He changed into his tights and made sure to tape up his wrists and tie back his hair. Once this was all finished he grabbed the magazine Kurt had discarded and sat back down on the couch. He stretched his legs out in front of him and waited until it was his turn to be called out.
{There's nothing you can say
{Nothing you can do
{Nothing in between
{You know the truth
{The verdict is in
{No appeal on the docket today
{Just my own sin
First ever. Revolutionary. Never before seen. Bischoff's own creation. Madison Square Garden. Survivor Series, 2002. The Elimination Chamber.
Chris Jericho glanced at the sign as he walked by, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. He shook his head before resuming his count of the number of cracks on the floor; anything to clear his mind of tonight's match.
His wife had called about twenty minutes ago. "Chris you'd better be careful out there because I'm sitting in the fourth row. I don't know what I'd do if you hurt yourself. That Bischoff is such an ass for putting you in a match like this". He'd tried telling her that it was an honor, but she was quick to dismiss the idea.
There were some papers taped to the door when Chris walked up to his room. He ripped the two sheets down and pulled them open. Inside there were detailed measurements and drawings of "the Chamber". He felt his heart drop in his chest and crumpled the papers up, discarding them as he entered his locker room. He was about to shut the door when someone on the other side caught it with their foot, easing the door open.
"Hey buddy." Kurt Angle said cheerfully, settling himself down on one of the recliners. "What's going on?"
"Trying to get everything together before the match." Chris answered aimlessly, setting his ring wear on the arm of the couch.
Kurt looked up from the magazine he was reading. "That's right, are you nervous?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "No, why would I be nervous having the main event at Survivor Series in" He lowered his voice, finding that somewhere people would start cheering upon hearing the name. "Madison Square Garden?"
"That's a shame." Kurt grumbled, returning to the article before looking up again. "It's not fair. Your GM is inventive and mine is obsessed with Brock Lesnar and the tag-team titles."
"Tough. Do you have any hair bands." Chris trailed off and smirked. "Nevermind, you wouldn't need those, would you?"
Kurt jumped up from the chair. "I get the point. You want me to leave. All you had to do was ask." He reprimanded. "Good luck tonight, I'll be watching."
Chris watched him leave and turned back to face the mirror. That is not the look of a living legend, he scolded himself silently. The bottom of his hair was pink from neglect over the past week and was in dire need of a washing. The small beard on his chin made him queasy and there were bags under his eyes and his face was a nice pale color. He reached over into his bag and pulled out the razor. He uncapped it and shut the door to his bathroom.
{The walls are cold and pale
{The cage made of steel
{Screams fill the room
{Alone I drop and kneel
He came out about half an hour later, a towel secure around his waist. He sidestepped the small red puddle and walked back over to the mirror. He wiped away the steam with an impatient swipe and now glanced at his reflection, feeling a lot better with what stared back at him.
There were still bags under his eyes, but that was nothing that one of the divas couldn't fix. He rubbed his chin and was happy with his decision to shave it all off. All the red/pink had, thankfully, washed out of his hair with no problem and he pulled it back into a loose ponytail before throwing on some sweatpants and going to search for any of the divas.
Chris scanned the empty hallways and wondered briefly if there was a meeting going on that he wasn't aware of. He walked up to the Diva's locker room and knocked lightly and waited for some answer.
"Who's there?" A voice called lightly from inside.
"It's Chris." He replied, waiting for the door to be opened,
It did and Stacy stood in front of him, hands on her hips. She saw who it was and smiled. "What's going on?"
He walked into the room after Stacy checked that everyone was decent and sat down in front of the mirror. "I look like shit." He said simply.
Stacy sat on the counter in front of him and nodded, picking up her make-up bag. "Close your eyes or else it's gonna sting."
"What have you been doing to yourself?" Molly asked, sitting on the chair next to him.
"Practically killing myself getting ready for this match." Chris muttered, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He felt a hand on his shoulder and then heard a reassuring voice.
"You'll be fine." Trish assured. "Hey, you got rid of the red in your hair."
"Yeah, it was a pain in the ass to keep up so I washed it all out." Chris answered, wondering if they had anything better to do then study him.
There was silence and then five minutes later Stacy's voice saying that he was all done.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring straight at the perfect portrait of a living legend. "Thanks Stacy." He complimented, giving her a quick hug. He said goodbye to everyone else and left the room feeling a lot better.
"Hey Chris, good luck!" Stephanie McMahon called to him from the other side of the hall. "Kick some ass for me." She winked and retreated into her office for the night.
Chris grinned and went back to his locker room. He changed into his tights and made sure to tape up his wrists and tie back his hair. Once this was all finished he grabbed the magazine Kurt had discarded and sat back down on the couch. He stretched his legs out in front of him and waited until it was his turn to be called out.
{There's nothing you can say
{Nothing you can do
{Nothing in between
{You know the truth