Chapter 2: Angel's Blood

"...ow..."

It was a soft sound, somewhere between a murmur and a grumble, accompanied by the slightest, pained hint of movement by the slight-ish man in the bed. He had lain there for quite some time, wafting in and out of consciousness, still as a stone when out but barely coherent or responsive when awake. Now, however, it seems he stirs for real for the first time.

Of course, his first utterance had to be some sort of complaint.

Forgetting for a moment, he tries to rise like nothing happened and is ricocheted back down almost instantly by a sharp wave of pain in his head, pain that almost made him scream aloud. What... where...

White. Too much white. Hospital white. Hospital...

"...oh, yeah."

It all comes back to him. Genesis. Joe. Elimination X. Victory. A loss of temper. The muscle busters... the Ole Kicks... pain... blood...

...blackness...

"...hey, b'careful, Daniels!"

...styles... Wait a second... Styles?

The Fallen Angel turns his head over... and blinks a few times. Indeed, sitting at his bedside, a weary look on his face as if he hadn't slept well for nights, was the very last person he'd ever expect to be here with him.

AJ grins gently, the X Division champ seeming to sigh in a great deal of relief.

"...aw, well... leas' you're awake now..."

"Kudos to you, Styles, bravo. What the blue bleeding hell are you doing here...?"

His voice is haggard and weary, but no less annoyed than it usually is when AJ is somehow involved.

"...I... I came to see you. What Joe did, it was... it was wrong, an'..."

"Oh. Oh, I see." Daniels snickers, a mildly venomous look in his eyes. "Big Bad Samoan beats up the poor little angel-man, and the Golden Boy descends heroically from his little X-Division Olympus to right the greivous wrong, everyone cheers, the end. Give me a break, Styles. You love playing hero. As if everyone dosen't love you already."

"...'s not like that..."

"What IS it like then, Styles?"

"Y... y'know what, fine. You wanna be an ungrateful lil' man, you go right on ahead. Doesn' change th' fact that what Joe did wasn' right, an' I'm gonna make him pay for it. I know th' concept's beyond you, but not all of us was born without a goddamned conscience."

Sapphire blues flashing, AJ stands up, his back cricking after being in one position for so long. The Phenominal One ignores the jab of pain.

"I don' know why I even waited for your proud ass t' wake up all this time."

Jamming his hands into his hoodie pocket, AJ storms out, leaving Daniels blinking after him. He wasn't used to the Phenominal One having an outright outburst like that... of course, perfect blue-eyed AJ couldn't have a temper, no way... but furthemore, he was a little taken aback at the fact that Styles'd said he'd been waiting for a while before he woke up.

Concern for your rivals. What a concept. It only made his head hurt more.

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(Impact, Nov. 19)

Samoa Joe had just completely destroyed Jerelle Clark. It had taken a nice set of refs and security to finally get the Submission Machine to break his signature Kochina Clutch, a rear naked choke that the TNA X-Division as a whole had yet to break, and now the slight young man was being attended to by the medics.

Joe just watches, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as he plucks his towel off the ringpost and slings it back around his neck... a towel that had great rust-colored splotches standing out on its white terry cloth. The blood of Christopher Daniels, worn, as Don West remarked, like some sick trophy.

"HEY! Hey, Samoa Joe! Up here, big man!"

Joe turns to the jumbotron, eyeing coldly the image of AJ Styles, who seems to eye him back just as icily.

"Look, I know that you know, here in the X-division, we're not about weight limits, we're about no limits... but we've also got an unwritten code here. A code of competition and mutual respect that, well, dosen't seem to apply to you. What you did to Chris Daniels... DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, BIG MAN!"

Joe turns back around, folding his arms, looking irritated at the very concept of being lectured.

"Now, this dosen't happen often, but I, as the X-Division champion, am challenging YOU, Samoa Joe, to a match at Turning Point for the X Division title. You need t' be taught a lesson in respect, an' I'm more'n willing to be your teacher, big man. See you December 11th."

Joe just grins coldly before exiting the ring.

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Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Christopher Daniels clicks his TV off, sighing deeply.

"The stupid kid's suicidal. And not even in a Jeff Hardy way... at least that day-glo moron's death will be quick."

Laying back into the pillows on his couch, the Fallen Angel stares at the ceiling and wonders if AJ's imminent doom amuses or worries him.