-A huge thank you to those who reviewed, especially to mitchy, you've been a very good classmate. Salamat sa di-panalalait! (Gives chocolates to everyone)

-I give you…Chapter 2! Enjoy!

"Watch out!" I heard Rey yell.

I snapped out of my trance and saw the football coming towards me. The pebbled surface of the ball smacked my forehead as I landed flat on the grass, covering my face with my hands. I heard heavy steps shaking the ground I was lying on and knew it was my teammates.

Rey held my arm, pulling me back up to my feet. "You all right, John? How are you feeling?"

"Fan-bloody-tastic," I replied listlessly. My other teammates snickered until I gave them "the look" that shut them up immediately. I approached Eddie, panting from all that running he's been doing.

"Can I sit out? Just for today?"

Eddie drawn his thick brows together, wiping his face with a hand towel. "Why? Are you feeling sick or something?"

I shook my head. "No. Just not in the mood to practice today, that's all."

Eddie merely stared at me before he shrugged; a sign of defeat. "Go ahead. But just for today. You have to be there on the away game against the RRCs, holmes."

I nodded before walking off. "I know. I'll be there."

Lazily slumping on a nearby bleacher, I watched as the football team started practicing on the SC football field. Practice playing is what I usually crave on my daily schedule, but I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. But everyone knew how well I play. I ought to cut everyone some slack until game night.

Whipping my head to the opposite direction, I made out two people walking towards me. One was tall, bald, and wearing sunglasses and the other one was short and skinny. Wearing dark suits and high-cut Chuck Taylors made me notice who they really were.

"Ah! If it isn't the hunky commentators of the SC campus, Tazz and Cole!" I quipped. Michael Cole shook his head, while Peter Senercha a.k.a. Tazz laughed and gave me a high-five. "Wazzup seniors? You wanted to see me?"

"No. Paul Heyman does." Cole answered.

I sat up a little straighter. "What did I do now?"

"Oh, you didn't do anything," said Tazz. "Just wanna talk to you regarding Lesnar's kick out from the team. I heard he expelled himself from this school, too."

Lesnar?

Oh! Brock Lesnar the stupid jock? That Lesnar?!

I've seen the man last summer training, former MVP and the center of the team the previous year before. Because of low mid-term scores and a red-marked permanent record, Principal McMahon kicked him off the team. It was a waste, of course, the team lost a good player, but I never really liked him. Because of too much humiliation, he expelled himself, at least that's what the rumors had told me. After that, Paul Heyman begrudgingly made Eddie our center, after all those months completely kissing up to his cellulite ass.

"Am I needed that much?" I began to whine. "I didn't even see him yet."

"You really need to," Tazz insisted. "Heyman's waiting for you in his office. He couldn't wait to talk to you about your behavior, too."

"What's wrong with my behavior?" I asked incredulously.

"Not that there's anything wrong with it..." Cole said with a chuckle. "If you like, I'll take him to you,"

"No need to, Michael Cole," a pitchy voice said behind him.

I glanced at the person standing behind Cole, giving me a look saying that I'm in trouble. Perfect. Last thing I wanted was a confrontation with our pain-in-the-and-ass-one-of-a-kind general manager Paul Heyman.

Cole and Tazz already scurried off like frightened rats. Why, in God's name, would they be afraid of this asswipe? Paulie's so fat he even has the courage to wear a suit that's gonna look like it'll explode any second. The suit's neckline was so tight that his second chin was jutting out, his pony tailed black hair was greasy, and he's going bald due to oldness. Eew.

I smirked as Heyman glared at me. "What do you want, big hips?"

Heyman clenched his fists on his sides, but he managed to speak anyway. "The rumors are indeed true. Not only did Brock Lesnar make that unnecessary expulsion from the team last summer, he also said that he never wanted to see your faces again."

My smirk ratcheted up a notch. What a baby.

"I think I've just lost myself a good player," he continued. "But for you John, I'm sensing this is a big opportunity for you to face fame."

"Ooh, so you have a vision?" I said sarcastically. "Fill me in, Paulie."

"My vision tells me, when I happened to pick a player from RRC, I'll be able to mold him into whatever form I wanted him to be. The football club, the cheerleading squad, even the general managers are included. I'm telling you now, no one is safe," Heyman smiled sardonically. "The draftees will be loyal to none other than Paul Heyman."

I frowned. "What gibberish are you yapping about? I thought we're gonna talk about something."

Heyman looked straight back at me. "Now that you told me that, maybe we will talk. Let me make it clear to you so your single-cell brain will be able to handle it."

My eyes twitched. He did not just say that.

Heyman went closer in front of me, fuming. "All I wanted to say is that I want nothing more than to get you off this team, you inconsiderate piece of Boston crap!"

As soon as Heyman said those words, he automatically slapped me in the face.

Remember the thing I said that I really hated being stepped on? That's what's exactly what this poor excuse of a creature was doing to me. Believe me; you don't wanna make me angry. You'll regret it.

I heard warning bells inside my head and the color red flashed across my eyes. I felt the stinging sensation in my cheek burning even stronger. Heyman looked frightened, so he prepared to slap me again.

Bad move, though.

Before Heyman's hand even reached my face, I immediately caught his wrist and started twisting it. His chin quivered as if he was the one who was slapped. Onlookers started to fuss around. Even the football team noticed us.

All that I know is, my human subconscious left, taken over by an evil minion of Satan as I pushed our very own manager flat on the grass and started to punch him continuously. He tried to cover his face, while I did the dirty work.

"All right, Cena! Stop it right now!" Kurt Angle announced in booming voice. Eddie and Rey both grabbed my arms, pulling me away from Paul Heyman and letting him run away. I glared at the pomp that bothered me with disbelieving eyes.

"Beat it, lumpy, or you're gonna—"

"Gonna what?" Angle interrupted. "I'm telling you, Cena. Your recklessness would always lead you to suspension, and that's what I'm gonna do to you right now."

What the hell?! "Well, you have no right—"

"Oh yes, I have the right!" he interrupted again. "I'm the team captain, for Christ's sake. Suck it up, why don't you?"

Oh, I'm not telling you who his guy is yet. The name's Kurt Angle, the bulb headed team captain of the SC Eagles. The kind who always follows the rulebook and the absolute teacher's pet. And yeah, he was a real honor student proven by the gold medals he always carries around, and he won a football game back in his high school with a frickin' broken neck. If only he wasn't our team captain and didn't have the school's Board of Directors tying him on a leash, I would have strangled the man to death.

"You better go now, John," Eddie whispered behind me. "Angle looks serious."

I turned to Rey, and he only nodded, his eyes saying the same thing.

Cursing, I grabbed my gym back and went past Angle. "Fuck you, you hypocrite." I sneered.

Angle started to yell out obscenities to name a few, but they were all drowned from the laughter of the crowd pelting on my back. I'm the one who was supposed to be the furious one for suspension, and he's getting all amped up from my insult. What an idiot.

Being suspended is just fine with me, but Angle would better not let me sit out on the away game against the RRC Lions. He'll be getting it, I swear.

I headed back to the dorm. Maybe there's something on TV.

(t.b.c.)

Push the little button down below. You know what to do.