Chapter Eleven

Three Days to Survivor Series

There were eight people crammed into JBL's white longhorn limousine that Monday night. Directly behind the driver, seated to the left side of the window was SmackDown General Manager Theodore Long. Beside him sat JBL and his image consultant Jillian Hall, a buxom blonde who was taking notes on what JBL was calling his "Great American Stand". Bobby Lashley also sat beside them. Directly across from the window that separated the chauffeur from the backseat were Rey Mysterio, Randy Orton, who was partaking in a drink of champagne with JBL and Theodore and Batista and Cassie. Cassie was dressed in a black bandage dress, her head leaned against the limousine's tinted windows. She was staring at the road. They would be at the Raw arena soon, and the jovial nature would be replaced by rage and unspeakable violence.

Cassie hadn't spoken to Dave in a week. Not since their disagreement about what her place in this entire feud was. He could sense the nervousness radiating from her in waves, like strong beacons of light that only he could pick up on. He put his hand on hers and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. She looked over at him and absentmindedly nodded, but didn't smile. It was as if she could sense his nervousness as much as he could sense hers. She turned her gaze back out to the window. Dave felt frustrated. He removed his hand from hers.

"They've been expecting us," she said softly, to nobody in particular. Dave stared out the window.

"Cassie is right - there's Todd Grisham waiting for us right now," he said, motioning to the correspondent standing in the middle of the crowded parking lot. He was obviously nervous about the prospect of facing Team SmackDown, a team that was still so obviously angry about the sneak attack last week. Cassie knew that Todd was afraid he was going to be beaten down by them, all because of their anger at everyone on the red brand. But that wasn't the case. They just wanted to the five on Team Raw.

Dave turned his gaze to Jillian. "I don't want her leaving this limousine for anything. Got it?" he asked angrily. She nodded. The limousine stopped and the men filed out. Cassie rolled her eyes at Dave's retreating figure. He slammed the door behind him.

"Wow."

"What?" Cassie asked, agitated. Jillian was dressed in a little grey business suit, her dyed blonde hair in curls around her face.

"I have never seen anybody stay so firm with you so angry," Jillian observed. "Are you okay, Cassie?"

She exhaled and leaned against the seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm fine. I'm just sick of all this SmackDown vs. Raw bullshit," she admitted. "I almost got abducted. Dave got jumped. My best friends are on Raw. My best friends are on SmackDown, and it's like everyone thinks one side is better than the other."

"It's brand pride. You know how it is," Jillian replied. "You love to be here just as much as I do."

"I'm just sick of seeing everybody getting beaten up," Cassie said, staring out the window. Her heart skipped a few beats. Standing in two straight lines were the opposing teams. Her breath caught. "Jillian..."

"Oh this is not good. This is going to get ugly fast," Jillian mused. The first fist was thrown and a fight broke out. It was a torrent of flying fists and weapons. Todd and Theodore were off to the side, searching for cover to avoid the violence. Chris Masters had the Master Lock on Rey, swinging the short Superstar back and forth like he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes.

But that's not what caught Cassie's eye. With Batista scuffling with Big Show, Kane came up behind him and they double-teamed the World Heavyweight Champion. She pounded on the window, screaming his name, but it was a futile warning that had come too late. With a double lift, Big Show and Kane slammed Dave onto the hood of a blue car. Team Raw took off into the solace of the arena, leaving the guys standing around Dave. Ignoring Jillian's protests and Dave's words, Cassie got out of the limousine and sprinted towards the car. She pushed past them, her gaze falling on Dave groaning, moving slowly on the hood of the car. He was clutching his ribs.

"Jesus," she murmured. She and Theodore turned to Todd. "What are you doing just standing there for, Todd? Hurry up and get an ambulance!" she shouted at him. Todd wasn't a cold-hearted man, and he nodded, disappearing into the arena to get the medical staff to tend to SmackDown's fallen champion. She moved over to Dave's side, pushing Randy Orton out of the way. "I tried to warn you," she said, her voice cracking. "I tried so hard..."

"Cassie...you should be...in the limo..." he told her between gasps of pain. She felt a surge of anger ripple through her, but she brushed it off.

"Now's not the time," she snapped at him. "You're hurt and we need to get you to the hospital."

"Theodore, you go to the hospital with Dave," JBL commanded. "Use the limousine to get back here at the end of the night." He looked at Cassie, who had walked away from everyone to sit on her own at the loading docks. She was so frustrated that she just wanted to scream. It had been a wretched month of November, and Bradshaw couldn't help but feel bad for her. She was fed up.

John Cena found his friend sitting outside halfway through the show. He approached her. He was riding high; earlier in the night, he had one-upped Kurt Angle. "Hey. I heard you were out here. What are you doing sitting here for?"

"Thinking," she replied absently, without looking at him. He sat down beside her on the concrete ledge. He handed her a penny. She shot him a look.

"Penny for your thoughts, Cass," he told her. She held the penny up to eye level and exhaled.

"In the past month, I've watched Dave be beaten down, double-teamed, and I have almost been kidnapped. I've had my elbow dislocated - which still hurts like a son of a bitch, by the way, and Dave confined me to the limousine tonight while they had their SmackDown vs. Raw machismo bullshit battle. When I got out of the limo...never mind I was checking on Dave, who had been slammed onto the hood of a car...he tells me that I should have stayed in the limousine. 'What are you doing outside the limo'? Like I need permission to get out of a car! I am tired, I am bitchy, I want Lita's head on a silver platter and I hate Survivor Series! I hate Randy Orton! I hate EVERYBODY!" John stared at her, surprised. In all the time he had known her, he'd never seen her so upset. "Fuck!" she screamed out. He started chuckling. "Oh, what the hell is so funny, John?"

"You," he answered. "You need to let go sometimes. Get a little drunk and relieve some stress. I know what you need - you need to talk to Batista."

"Yeah. That's exactly what I want to do right now," she told him. He laughed.

"You're just upset. Understandably. You've been dealing with a lot. Talk to him after Survivor Series," he told her. "It'll be Christmas. What could be a better Christmas present than the two of you finally getting your shit together and hooking up. What do you say about that?"

"I say you need to let me think about it. I'm drained right now, John. Really I am. I'm not even dating Dave and I'm jealous of every number one contender that rips his time away from me. I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I'm not even his girlfriend and I hate not seeing him much. Could you imagine if we were dating? I'd become a basket-case, and I promised myself I never would do that." John nodded.

Just then, JBL's white limousine pulled up. Dave climbed out, bandaged up along the arm and ribs. He was ready to walk, unarmed, into the arena, to hurt someone. She slid off the dock. John watched her pick up a lead pipe. "Dave, stop!" she called out to him. He stopped, turning to her. She looked at him incredulously. "You really aren't thinking about walking in there unarmed, are you?" she asked him. He took the lead pipe from her hands and flashed her a smirk before disappearing inside. She turned to John, who was several feet behind her with an eyebrow cocked. He was impressed.

"I must say, you would make one hell of a manager, Cassie."

"Thanks, Cena. Means a lot," she replied. He draped an arm around her and let him lead her back to the docks to sit down.

"Just relax," he replied. "Things will work out." She only looked out at the sky, flashing on heavy weather ahead.