"Lesnar, carry her to the back, the stretcher is taking too long. Angle, Triple H, Rock, Jericho - you keep 'Taker away from her. Booker, Austin, guard Brock. Eddie, Chavo, Trish, follow Lesnar to the ambulance, she'll want to see you when she wakes up. Where are those damned Hardy Boyz?"

"Right here, Mr. McMahon!"

"Matt, it's about time! You and Jeff go with her!"

"Of course!"

"Daddy, the fans are trying to riot through to the ambulance!"

"Where the fuck is security? Stephanie? Where did you go?"

Amy suddenly awoke, feeling herself being carried by a hard and sweaty body with a tattoo'd back, her face rubbing against it. She instantly recognized the man carrying her as Brock Lesnar, and spotted Stone Cold Steve Austin, her dear friend and fellow Superstar glancing at her and around the area which was being swarmed by fans. After looking around for another moment she spotted Booker T and Chavo Guerrero, who were on the heels of Eddie Guerrero and Trish Stratus.

"What's going on?" Amy groggily asked.

"Mark got a hold of ya after your match, kid! Sent you through the damn table! The fans are going nuts and we can't find him! All Hell's breaking loose!" The rough voice of Steve Austin answered.

"She's alive! She's alive!" The cries of fans could be heard from all corners of the arena.

"Is she awake?" The Minnesota accent of Brock Lesnar asked.

"Yeah, hurry up, dog!" This time it was Booker Huffman who spoke. Brock broke out into a trot, Amy's head now bouncing on and off of his oiled back. After several more rowdy minutes, she felt her body put onto a stretcher and saw that she was in the back of an ambulance.

"Jeff, there she is!" Matt Hardy exclaimed.

"Amy, you're going to be alright!" It was the younger Hardy brother who could be heard this time. Amy wasn't sure what was wrong, she had been put through tables before. It wasn't anything new.

"He just put me through a table?" She asked an EMT.

His face turned pale when he answered. "Yeah, yeah. But you got cut really, really bad and you're losing a lot of blood, so calm down."

Adam leaned against a counter, lazily watching Friday Night SmackDown on a television in Best Buy. Nearby Randy was ranting about wrestling.

"My uncle was a wrestler, did you know that? Barry Orton, Barry O. That's what they called him. But that lot raped him. Bad people, those wrestlers. Pat Patterson and Terry Garvin, sons of bitches. Are you listening to this, Copeland? My uncle was a wrestler!"

"Pat Patterson always gets accused of raping wrestlers. Not that I doubt that he actually does it."

"Of course he does it!" Randy whispered with wide eyes, moving into Adam's direct line of view. "He did it to my uncle!"

"Terry Garvin was known for going aroung having sex with men, too, so I really don't doubt that your uncle was raped by them, okay?"

"Of course he was! He wouldn't lie!"

Moving away from Randy, Adam saw Amy celebrating a victory on the television screen, only to be shocked by Undertaker interrupting her.

"What kind of bloody storyline is this? The Undertaker and a woman? Are you seeing this, Adam? Oh, that's your woman, is it? Wow! Looks like she's getting pushed. Oh, wait. Nope. Looks like Stratus is getting pushed. I can't stand all of this kayface stuff."

"Randy, I really don't think that this is planned-" Adam began, only to stop when he saw Lita get thrown through the commentator's table. She looked to be out cold, but was turned over by what seemed to be a scared Jerry Lawler's foot, revealing a giant cut all the way from her neck to her lower back, her top already soaked thoroghly with blood.