There's a few people I would like to give chocolates to:

JohnCenasgurl-You're one avid reviewer! Go gal!

Jeff's favorite skittle-Since you couldn't wait, here's Chap 6! Don't worry, this is only a preview about John and Randy's relationship behind facades. (stop thinking of slashes...) Just keep on reviewing more often! Thanx!

Mitchy the Bitch-In this kind of category, you're free to use the B word.(haha) I know you can't keep you're eyes off your own PC, I know how much you do, but you're Math is suffering woman! (just kidding) Oh, stop telling me that I'm better than you, you're one gothic writer that I can't beat, and I most certainly can't beat youi in English, especially if Sir Rommel's the teacher! Oh, and kick Rap out of the Top 10 for me as soon as the exams are over, he really pisses me off. (and I don't like him anymore!)

I just can't tell you that I own WWE, because I think all of really doesn't. But I do wish that I own Randy Orton, and I'll make him feed me ice cream! With gooey chocolate flavor and Oreo chunks. ALL DAY LONG.

(starts running to the bathroom) ./

The crowd sat down in their bleachers, ready for the upcoming game. The students of Springville and Red River were at their designated bleachers, parallel to each other. Both schools have their own football fields, but Principal McMahon bitingly decided that if we were going to have a game against each other, the city football stadium would be the perfect place.

The new recruits form RRC came about an hour ago, and they're now joining us at this very moment. They seemed particularly happy to be with their new team, or maybe they're just acting that way, for fear of being expelled by the Big Boss. We are wearing our uniforms for the season: black jersey top with blue calico numbers sewn on the front, matching our royal blue helmets and white pants. The whole team was on the other side of the field, away from the crowd's plain sight. There were only about a few minutes before the lineup, and the others are simply talking and laughing before we take action.

I looked down on my own jersey and sighed, tracing the 89 on my jersey with my fingers. I held my own helmet at my side and ruffled my spiky brown hair, a nervous habit. There were only a few months left before school is officially over, and having another game this season was a bang. I broke into a cold sweat, and my hands were shaking.

Yes, people. John Cena does get nervous.

"You're shaking," Rey noticed.

"You're not kidding," I replied, balling my hands into fists, but now my arms had the effect.

Rey shook his head, a sympathetic smile on his face. "You know you're gonna do good out there. You have always been in every game we had."

"I know that. But these are the Red River Lions were facing." I said.

"Just be glad that Eddie isn't here. Who knows what he would have done to you right now."

"I know that."

Rey left me to talk to the other teammates, while I searched the foolish Latino jackass with my eyes. The last time we've seen Eddie, he was talking to Kurt Angle earlier before we dressed up, but at that time I was too busy to eavesdrop. And then curiosity got the better of me and I asked Eddie straight out. He only shrugged, and didn't say anything the whole night.

"Just think of it as a surprise, esse." he had said.

Gyeh. I hate surprises.

The SC cheerleaders were lined in a single-file next to the football teams, their uniforms contrasting to ours. They were wearing sleeveless blue jerseys under black shirts, the flamboyant logo of Springville up front, complete with their jersey numbers and surnames. They also knotted their jerseys at the back to show off their hard-earned curves, and they matched their outfits with plain blue skirts and black knee-highs. I guess they let the designer's mind go crazy.

"Hi Cena!" a voice said next to me. I glanced to the right and my eyes widened. It was Torrie Wilson, all smiles in her perfect face. "Can you imagine? Our very first game against the Lions! You guys must be excited!"

"Excited," I echoed weakly. She looked really cute, even without her normal make-up and her usually straight and loose blond hair were in soft curls, pinned off her shoulders to add the effect.

The girl on Torrie's side giggled.

"Oh!" Torrie exclaimed. "I would like to introduce you to someone."

Torrie ushered the girl behind her to get on her side, and that girl had her own blond hair dyed in light blue strands around her face, and her own make up composed of mostly of glitters. She was also really pretty because I'm pretty sure I've never seen her before.

"Cena, this is Jackie Gayda, one of the draftees from Red River. Jackie, this is John Cena, the pride of Springville."

I raised my hand to politely shake the other girl's. "Pleasure."

Jackie blushed a little, but she managed to grab hold of my hand. "So you're John Cena. Everyone talks about you in Red River. Rumors told me you're hot, but I never knew you were this hot!"

Torrie smiled. "That's John Cena. Hot."

I suddenly felt flattered, feeling like a man stretching up to his full height. It's been so long since a girl adored me, I nearly forgotten what it felt like.

"But who can be hotter than Randy Orton!" Jackie gushed.

Torrie giggled. "Definitely!"

The two girls hashed out details about the youngest member of RRC's faction, Evolution, that's what they call them, while I felt the smile frozen in my face. The blast of the past suddenly washed over me. Again.

The RRC Lions were on the other side of the field opposite to ours, talking and laughing and drinking water. They have red jerseys, and black lines surrounding their cheeks like war paint. Their sizes, on the other hand, were surprisingly huge for college kids. I started to search for the group considered fearing in Red River.

Aha! They there were. The four guys were at a suitable distance away from their football team. I saw their leader, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, looking around the crowd as if there's anyone man enough to jump on him. The other two guys, Ric Flair and Dave Batista, were chatting to a certain someone.

And that certain someone was him. Or rather he. Himself. Randy Orton. No one else.

As if noticing me burning a hole in his back, Randy turned to look at me. He looked surprised for a moment, and then flashed me a cocky smile. I nodded at him in return. Then he turned his head back again and started to bother Hunter. I stifled my laughter when I saw the leader of Evolution whacked Randy at the back of his head.

"Who are you looking at?" Torrie suddenly asked.

I shook my head. "Nobody. But let me look at you. Would you like to turn around for me, please?"

Torrie blushed. "Sure."

Torrie slowly turned around. Her cheerleading uniform fit her perfectly, showing lots of skin to make the kids drool. The WILSON on the back of her jersey was emblazoned in royal blue, but what struck my attention was her jersey number: 89.

She looked expectantly back at me. "Did our uniforms come out good?"

"We have the same jersey number." I observed.

Torrie looked at my jersey, and then looked down at hers. "Oops. What are the odds?"

She looked so sweet and pathetic that it seemed uncanny to offend her. "It looks good on you though." I immediately said.

"Thanks." she said, flashing me a smile.

I wore back my helmet, using it as an excuse to hide my blushing face. My hands were shaking less now, but now my heart was now beating double time. The nervousness I had before the game and the talking to Torrie part was already making me feel nauseous.

I saw our announcer Tazz and the announcer from RRC, Jim Ross. They made their way to the stadium's skybox, and the dorks were clearly excited as they sat down in the announcer's table.

Torrie flashed me another smile before following the other cheerleaders running out to the field. "Good luck, you guys."

She ran off and started to dance along with the others in loud dance music, and I felt my chest swell like a rooster's.

Don't do it, man, a voice inside me said. She is way off your league. Not Torrie.

Though it's pretty damn hard getting Torrie out of my head, I tried to pay more attention to what's happening around me. The crowd applauded when the cheerleaders finished their dances, accompanied with wolf whistles and catcalls. The football teams started to line up.

J.R. spoke at once. "Presenting, the Red River Lions!"

The brawlers streaked out the field. Now, the Lions' undefeated record will be broken by the us-us, the Springville Eagles.

"Okay, Eagles!" I heard Angle say from somewhere. "It's now or never!"

The crowd was unstoppable, stomping in their bleachers. I felt the earth shudder beneath my cleats.

Tazz smiled and finally announced, "And now, the Springville Eagles!"

I closed my eyes one final time, and opened them once again as I ran along with my teammates.

Let the games begin.

(After a few touchdowns and losses…)

"Okay, hombres! This is the final play!" Eddie hollered, rallying the team around him. "Let's put this baby to bed!"

I pushed forward in the huddle to hear Eddie call the pattern. Turns out that the surprise was Eddie became our temporary team captain for a while until Angle got this GM problem solved. I observed the GUERRERO on Eddie's jersey was almost covered with mud, but he didn't mind. He's been impressive the whole night, barking out orders and giving us unique patterns. The Eagles were now murdering the Lions, and now the clock had all but run out. One last play and there'd be nothing left but the partying.

"Let's go!" Eddie bellowed, breaking up the huddle. The teams took their positions.

"46! 23! Hike!"

The ball was hiked, and I charged off the line. All around me bodies collided, and the racket of crashing pads and helmets assaulted my ears as the scents of sweat, turf, and mud attacked my nostrils. I juked to the left, then ran to the right, faking a defender out of his cleats. I pushed past the other boy and flew down the sideline.

My legs pumped beneath me, my lungs sucked in the cool night air, and my arms swung freely at the sides. My body was clicking along like a machine, effortlessly doing whatever I asked it to. I reached open field and glanced back over my shoulder in time to see the ball hurtling in my direction. It was a wild throw—too high and way to the left. Without hesitation, I gathered myself and leapt, my legs launching me into space as my arm stretched out in front of me.

The football smacked my palms, and I quickly trapped it in my chest. Only then did I notice that I was several feet up the air—and coming down face first. I ducked my head and held on, my entire concentration focused on not fumbling. The buzzer went off. The ground struck me hard behind my left shoulder. I rolled forward onto my feet and sprang up, unhurt, holding the ball triumphantly skyward in one strong hand.

"Yeah!" I yelled, spiking the ball. "Yes!"

I turned to the stands, my arms thrown open wide, and the crowd didn't disappoint me. They screamed their approval, their adoration. What a game I'd had, and what a way to end it! For the first time, we finally beat the Lions.

Then the rest of the team caught up with me. The next thing I knew, I was buried under an avalanche of flesh and clattering equipment. "Way to go!" my teammates yelled, beating me on my helmet, my pads, whatever they could reach. "Cena! You stud! Way to go!"

I didn't get the touchdown, but it didn't matter. The game had been won well before the last play anyhow—my spectacular catch had simply added the exclamation point. Kurt Angle blew the whistle and the dogpile finally struggled back to its feet.

"Good game, everyone," Angle congratulated us, his voice just a wheeze from shouting throughout the entire game. "Cena, way to hustle!"

Ah, so The Man of Honor congratulates me now? I smirked at his praise, knowing I'd never played better. SC had a great team. I started to trot off to the locker room when Eddie caught me by the shoulder, Rey beaming at his side.

"Here, esse," said Eddie, handing me a megaphone.

I was baffled. "Where did you guys get this?"

Rey chuckled. "Eddie stole that from Tazz and J.R. for you. Eat your heart out, J."

I nodded at them gratefully before I took the microphone from Eddie's waiting hands and ran off to the middle of the field once again. The crowd continued to cheer out loud.

"Go Cena!" the SC cheerleaders yelled in unison.

I smiled before getting the megaphone to my lips. "Whose house?"

And they chanted out what I expected them to say.

"Cena…Cena…Cena…Cena…Cena…"

(t.b.c.)