((Author Notes: Supersized chapter! But hey... it's a PPV.))
Chapter 5: Avenging Angel
(a few days afterward)
"Mrrrello…"
It's not really a word by technical standards, but when one is awoken from a rather deep and pleasant nap by a ringing telephone, you should expect one to be neither pleasant nor coherent. By those standards, plus a rather obvious Southern accent, it's probably very hard to understand what AJ meant by the inhuman, Wookie-like noise he uttered into the receiver.
"…what?"
"Dnnnlz? Whadddy'wan."
"WHAT? Christ, Styles, don't tell me you got booted in the head a few times and forgot how to speak English, sheesh…"
"Y'wommmeup."
A heavy sigh from the other end. Christopher thinks he can decipher what in the world AJ's on about now… still, it wasn't any excuse for the younger man to talk like a bear with a mouthful of peanut butter. If he was sleepy still, it was his own fault for answering the phone.
"Then splash some cold water on your face, numbskull. Jeez, it's past noon, I've got a pretty serious head injury, and I've been up since eight in the morning. What would people think if they knew the messianic AJ Styles slept in past noon like a common slob?"
"Phuucue."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Just… let me know when you're coherent. At this point, I'd be better off trying to converse with Abyss, for crying out loud."
Setting the phone aside, AJ kicks the sheets off the bed and lurches toward the bathroom like a zombie creature just rose from the grave. Dammit, he was still sore all over… the swelling on his face'd gone down a bit, thank Heaven for small miracles, but the bruising was still evident on his face and chest.
After taking a moment to do what most people do in their bathrooms after first waking up and splashing some water on his face, AJ sits back down on the bed, picking the phone back up.
"Daniels, you still there?"
"Yeah. Was about to hang up, though. You took long enough."
"Just my luck I caught you." No, there wasn't any sarcasm in that statement… "What do you want, or are y'just doin' your best to drive me out-a my skull long distance?"
"Joe. I suppose now there's no talking you out of that match. On the other hand, now you know what I'm talking about. And that, kid, that little pummeling? That's just for starters. If I were you, I'd ask one of the ROH kids for some backtapes to review as well as studying what footage our archives have of him. There's only a few days 'till Turning Point, and if you're not ready, he WILL kill you."
AJ rolls the suggestion around in his head. Not a bad idea… he'd see if Aries could scrounge him up anything. But…
"…wait a sec, why're you givin' me advice? I thought you didn' want me to beat Joe. The whole rant 'bout me playin' hero-boy, that thing."
A sigh from the other end.
"Styles, at this point, I'm not EXPECTING you to beat Samoa Joe. I'm just giving you this advice so you don't DIE. Destroying you is my job, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let that tub of very ill-tempered lard take THAT from me, too. You read me?"
"Yeah. Loud an' clear. Glad t' see your principles're still intact."
"Right. Go study those tapes. And for the love of God, quit sleeping in. You're gonna need every waking moment for training time if you want to survive. 'Bye, Styles."
Daniels hangs up. AJ looks at the receiver, shaking his head with a slight snicker.
"Thought you said you weren't my mother."
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(Los Angeles, a few minutes later)
The phone rings softly in Daniels' ear as he waits for the other end to pick up. He could get into big trouble for this, he knows that… he was given very explicit advice, and would probably get yelled at for not following it. Even if not, it wasn't a smart move.
Still, it was something he felt he had to do.
"…hello? Yes… this is Christopher Daniels. I need to see about a flight to Orlando… yes. The eleventh…"
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(Turning Point)
He can see Joe's eyes from here. Black, flashing eyes, filled with purposeless hate and the urge to destroy. His tape gauntlets bear the letters 'AJ'. The bloody towel is still around his neck.
AJ adjusts the belt on his shoulder. This was for the honor of his title. Of the honor of his division. For all the fans, and the principles the Samoan had spat on.
And, he grudgingly admitted to himself, maybe a small part of it… WAS for Christopher Daniels.
His music hits.
Everyday of my life, I let the inside show from the outside…I do my best to pass the test, and show respect to the other guy…
That's what it's all about, isn't it?
Let's go.
…my head's in the clouds and a smile's on my face, I am alive and I'll say it this way…
…you are, you are, I am I am…
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(Studio 21 parking lot and gaining…)
"Goddamn flight delays! Don't they know that some people have to BE places? I swear, when I am king, all delayed flights will be punishable by immediate execution…"
He can hear the cheers from here. Oh, damnit, the match must've already started… breaking into an even faster run, Daniels heads for the nearest monitor… much to the surprise of the small group that was already huddled around it.
"Hey! Daniels, I thought you were…"
"Oh, nevermind that now, you great feeb! Give over, let me see…"
Apparently he hadn't missed much, at least…
Alright, kid, let's see what you can do. C'mon, earn that annoyingly overbearing nickname of yours…
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(Arena)
SLAM.
Oh, that did NOT tickle.
Already sore from an inhuman amount of chops and now a throbbing head from a polite introduction to the guardrail, AJ tries to get up but is kicked back down like a dog, grabbed, dragged into the ring and pounded on more… able to wriggle in just a handful of offense here and there…
this is hopeless, he's unbeatable…
What? Where did he get off thinking like that OW… Oh, wonderful…
Coughing, AJ struggles just to get a few breaths as Joe comes at him again… shot to the stomach, back slammed into the ringpost, headlock…
no
Frantically, AJ starts throwing elbows, trying desperately to power out. It works, but…
POW
…knee shot to the head. This sucks…
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(Backstage)
"DAMN YOU!"
Everybody backs up a little. Daniels is getting That Look. Lip quivering, jaw and fists clenched, he looks as if his eyes could burn a hole in the monitor.
"AJ Styles, you are BETTER than this sack of shit! This is totally and completely pathetic, and totally and completely unacceptable! All I said to do was survive… SURVIVE, you overrated moron, can't you even do that right? Now GET UP!"
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(Arena)
Joe is smiling. Looking down at the fallen champion with an almost hungry look. Lunging in to finish AJ off…
…GET UP!
…and is met with a vicious Pele.
Oh, that's it. The sudden screaming thought in his head brought with it a strange second wind… AJ is sick of getting kicked around. Time to stop being intimidated, and start being serious…
…and he begins to fly. Leapfrog. Shooting star, flying punch, aerial DDT…
One… Two…
…no go. Shit. Joe's mad now… REAL mad. Snap scoop slam.
One… Two…
…none for you either, big boy. Snarling… SNARLING… AJ looks up, mouth running blood.
"You wanna play with me, big man? LET'S PLAY!"
And the duel of chops, kicks, and punches begins.
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(Backstage)
"Oh, holy shit…"
"He's snapped, AJ's finally lost it…"
"Somebody's gotta stop them before they kill each other!"
"WILL YOU PEOPLE SHUT UP?"
Daniels eyes the others sharply. Sheesh, you'd think they'd never seen a guy fired up before. Honestly.
That's it, that's better… come on now…fight!
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(Arena)
Powerbomb from AJ.
Sharp clothesline back from Joe.
I'm not giving in to you.
I'm not giving in to you, either.
AJ jumps up, wipes a splash of blood from his mouth. Joe looks back, with an expression of utter and total astonishment.
"…why the hell won't you just DIE?"
"…because it's not my day. Now bring it, big man."
Choke. Headbutts. Pele counter.
They eye each other. NOW.
Joe throws his Muscle Buster. AJ, his Styles Clash. Almost at the same time, and both go crashing down…
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(Backstage)
And Daniels and the others watch with held breath…
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(Arena)
…as AJ rolled Joe up in a pin…
Yes… YES…
…which was reversed at the last minute. AJ is trapped in the Kochina Clutch… he wriggles, fights…
"…tap out, boy…"
"…go… to… hell…"
no…
Everything goes black.
One, Two… Three.
It's over.
But Joe isn't satisfied. He'd won AJ's title, but… he'd also been embarrassed in front of all those who saw him as invincible. NOBODY embarrassed Samoa Joe. The boy would have to be taught a severe lesson…
And feigning respect as AJ came to, Joe raised the ex-champion's arm… and levels him with his new prize. Grinning madly, Joe looks down at AJ.
"History repeating, no? Be sure to say hi to Chris Daniels for me…"
BAM!
"Hey, asshole! Why don't you tell me yourself?"
Black looks up. Meets black.
"You…"
"Daniels…?"
Through hazy vision, AJ still can't believe his eyes…
…and when the angry Samoan knocks the Fallen Angel once more on his head, he wishes his eyes were lying.
A whirl of security, another whirl of medics.
One new champ is escorted away, and two rivals both lay half-conscious in his wake.