Author's Note: Don't know if this has been done before, don't really care either. Don't you just love this new blasé attitude I have? This is a little bit different writing from what I usually do and be forewarned, there will be mentioning of the following during the course of this story:
alcohol, partying, sex, drunkenness, practical jokes whilst being drunk, drunken mistakes, clubs, bars, more alcohol (hey they're all of legal age, why not?), and cheating.
If that doesn't float your boat then don't read it. If you're over there saying "Yes, I love being drunk" then I think this is the story for you. Read and review like always….
Conquering Sin City…
© 2004 by NY BrAt 007 (my idea, don't take it)
Remember every disclaimer you've ever read? Apply them all to this one too cuz I own diddly…
What made Las Vegas so different from any other city? Molly Holly wondered as she stared out of the plane window at the clouds below. It had some, well okay, a lot of different casinos, tons of drinking, and people who were willing to do anything if you gave them enough money. But why was that any different from Atlantic City or Los Angeles even? And why was there that one unwritten rule that everyone knew about, no one talked about, and everyone obeyed: what goes on in Sin City stays in Sin City? She glanced around the inside of the private plane Vince McMahon had chartered for his superstars and winced. Why had none of her friends remembered that rule?
Brock Lesnar was sitting next to a very unhappy Trish Stratus while they each sported a gold wedding band around their fingers—the result of one drunken joke that had gone a little bit too far. Every few minutes the two would alternate between sighing heavily and scowling at the other.
Across the aisle, sitting alone and taking up two seats, Chris Jericho was on the phone with his wife, pleading with her to not listen to a woman named Sissy who may or may not call. He was not married to her and she was not going to come live with them, no matter what she said. His wife got in the habit of hanging up on him every five minutes or so and by the end of the flight he was going to rack up a phone bill larger then any one Stephanie McMahon and Triple H could create talking to each other cross country a few times a day.
Further back in the plane, Randy Orton and John Cena were fast asleep. Next to John was a notebook the two playboys of the WWE had managed to fill with names, numbers, and e-mail addresses of women they had met and had no intention of ever speaking to or communicating with ever again.
Rene Dupree was on the phone with his good friend Sylvan Grenier a few seats up from where John and Randy were. He was talking excitedly in French which none of them could understand, although they could make an educated guess as to what it was about—lady luck had been on the young Frenchman's side as he systematically hit every casino on the strip, from the Luxor to Caesar's Palace, never leaving one without winning nearly a thousand dollars first.
Towards the front of the plane, Batista was out cold and taking up four seats in the process. Ever since three that morning he'd been nursing a massive hangover due to five straight nights of partying, drinking, flirting, cruising the strip, and avoiding getting hit on by gay guys in the bar John and Randy thought it had been funny to drop him off in. To that day he was still getting calls on his cell phone from some guy named Butch which he was desperately trying to avoid. He kept telling Butch he was happily married with a kid, but the guy was relentless.
Stacy Kiebler and Test, despite their close and intimate relationship prior to the Vegas trip, were sitting on completely opposite ends of the plane. Every few minutes Test would look over at her and try to give her the sad 'I'm-really-sorry-and-I-know-I-don't-deserve-you-but-will-you-give-me-one-more-chance' puppy dog look, to which she'd roll her eyes and turn back to the book she'd been trying to read since taking off.
The only two on the plane who weren't scowling or looking pissed off was the recently married and happy couple of Torrie Wilson and Billy Kidman. After spending a week in Sin City and getting through it unscathed, they decided they could get through anything.
Molly, on the other hand, was sitting next to her used to be ex but is now current boyfriend, the Hurricane. Through a dare one night, she may or may not have been sober, her hair had turned back to it's platinum blonde color and she promised the young superhero that she would once again become his sidekick and they would continue fighting crime together, making the world a safer place from villains and wrongdoers..
The trip had started off being strictly professional. Vince and the rest of the board members decided to bring the WWE straight from Las Vegas for exactly one week: Raw on Monday, Smackdown taping on Tuesday, and finally Summerslam on Sunday.
The WWE chairman never expected the week in Sin City to be this eventful…
Author's Ending Notes: So what'd you guys think? This is just the prologue and the rest of the chapters are going to be a flashback to the beginning of the groups stay in Las Vegas and keep moving on until they reach the plane ride home. And if you're sitting there saying "Well what happened to Stacy and Test?" or "How in the hell did Trish and Brock get married?" just remember one thing….
Patience is a virtue. I promise you all it will be good. You just gotta wait around a few days for it.
Read and Review please, your reviews make my world go round! J