Chapter Five

The Rescue

With an ear-piercing squeal, the long, sleek black limousine peeled down the ramp and into the back area of Madison Square Garden. Screeching to a stop, the driver's door swung open and World Heavyweight Champion Dave Batista emerged, his brown eyes blazing. With the attitude of a soldier going to war, he slammed the door shut behind him and strode quickly through the back hallway, past the locker rooms. He was focused, not acknowledging anybody.

The WWE locker room stayed back, against the walls. He was generally liked backstage, but nobody wanted to step between him when they saw him like this. They'd only witnessed it a few times before. Nobody wanted to cross him; they knew they'd end up taking an assault if they tried. All bets were off now.

He made his way through the hallway, ripping at his tie and tearing at his white button-down shirt. There was a blond bully in the ring who was just waiting for a Batista Bomb. He made his way past the technical crew and the DJ, taking the steps two at a time and bursting through the black curtain. The DJ barely had time to play his music.

Triple H had seen Dave arrive. It distracted him from his opponent, the battered and bloody Jim Ross, who lay in the middle of the ring in his torn Oklahoma Sooners jersey. Hunter was facing the ramp when Dave's music hit, beckoning for Dave to come and get him. Dave came down the ramp like a bat out of hell, ripping off his shirt and tie and leaving it on the ramp. He slid into the ring and they began to trade punches. Dave quickly gained the upper hand and left Hunter laying in the middle of the ring, unconscious. After a brief moment's hesitation, he grabbed Jim's limp arm and dragged his mangled body over to the middle of the ring, draping Jim's left arm over Hunter's prone body. Standing over the two, he looked at the referee and pointed down at the canvas.

"Count."

The referee slid down and made the count. The bell rang and Dave's music blared through the arena. The fans were going absolutely insane. It was in the record books; Jim Ross had defeated Triple H. Dave assisted Jim to his feet and raised Jim's hand. Jim promptly collapsed. The referee stepped in to help. When the cameras went off, several referees came down to the ring to help Jim backstage. He needed stitches. Dave would be surprised if Jim didn't suffer a concussion.

"Talk about cutting it close to the wire there, Dave."

Dave looked over at Jerry "The King" Lawler, who was getting his lip iced. He had tried to step in and stop the madness mid-match, only to be assaulted for his efforts. The punch in the face from Ric Flair had swelled his lip and the Pedigree from Hunter had left Jerry feeling woozy.

"I got here as soon as I could," Dave insisted. "Hunter arranged it with my driver that I end up taking the scenic route and I ended up about as far away from the arena as I could get." He looked over at Jim, who was being stitched up. He was mumbling and murmuring. He looked at Jerry. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine. I'll take him for a drink or two at the end of the night to celebrate. It's not every day that a color commentator gets a pin-fall victory over Triple H." Dave nodded. He felt guilty he couldn't get there sooner.

"Take it easy, you guys. I'm sorry I didn't make it sooner."

"Don't worry about it. You made it."

Cassie carried her bags out to the car. She had just finished signing autographs for a few rabid fans. She slammed the trunk and turned around, startled when she bumped into John. "Jesus!"

"Hey. Did you hear anything about the J.R.-Hunter match?"

"Not yet. Have you?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No. I was hoping you saw. Anyway, I got some news for you."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Guess who will be in London for next Monday's Raw?" Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I talked to Teddy, got you the night off, and then I talked to Batista and he'll meet you at the arena. Bischoff's cool with it, but I don't think Batista would really give him a choice in the matter." Cassie smiled.

"No. I guess not." She smiled. "Thanks, Cena."

"No problem," he answered, slinging his championship over his shoulder. "Anything for a good friend."

"You talking about me or Batista?"

"Yeah...I guess that could work either way, huh?" he replied. She nodded. "I don't know. Just enjoy the sights in London on Monday, because after that, you won't have much time. With the show on Tuesday and then leaving back for here on Wednesday..." She nodded.

"Will do, Cena. So I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

"You know it," he replied. They gave each other a hug and she climbed into her car before driving away into the night.