Randy, the Road Hog

Samantha was fiddling furiously with her iPhone as Nattie and Anthony happily chatted to themselves behind her about the ancient city after a morning-long shopping spree in downtown Rome, which left all three pretty satiated in souvenirs. During international trips, the wrestlers didn't carry much to add on souvenirs into their empty luggage until full and when that occurred, care packages sent home did the trick. As a tagalong worker for the WWE roster, she was bombarded with constant text messages from all of her three rascal brothers in regards to the wrestlers. Sometimes, she wished she'd never uttered a single word about her real employer and resisted from blocking her siblings to show them a lesson in privacy. . .but she loved the tykes too much. This was apart from the regular barrages from the other company departments which left her temple veins twitching and ready to chuck the phone into an ancient Roman canal.

She managed to tear her eyes from another inquisitive 'did you learn any wrestling moves yet?' and 'can you tell Eve we are her humble servants?' text from her teenage brothers to catch an eyesore of a van parked in front of the hotel. The poor thing, a GMC model, looked more than thirty years old and the peeling powder blue paint from the sides added to the effect of its antiquity as dusty tires could be seen from her distance. She pitied both the owner and van (it seriously needed maintenance work) but for an eerie reason, felt the van was there for her and nobody else. Ugh, why did she watch Christine yesterday on her laptop? Stranger things have happened, right? She quickly opened her large purse to peruse through her paperwork for the current trip, refusing to part with it until she was off the clock, and skimmed the pages to read that their modern GMC rental van was not what she was currently staring at.

A breath of sweet relief exited her lips because imagining driving the horrendous van with the wrestlers was horrifying, already visualizing their accusing eyes ablaze with unyielding fury for allowing such an automobile near their vicinity. Luck seemed to be on her side today. . .or so, she thought. Of course, the next second, she imitated the exact replica of an Italian statue that she'd see later that day when she watched Matthew pop out of the passenger's window like a whack-a-mole. There was a huge smile of delight lighting up his chiseled face as he called out with excitement to beckon her closer, "Look what we just got!"

Yep, the universe was destined to ruin her job.

This would not stand, not after surviving being hopelessly deserted in a vineyard and losing a shameful battle against a grape bush. Her fingers scrambled to punch in the number for the rental place into her phone since this was most certainly not in the contract and would yell until she was purple in the face. She'd gotten quite a good sense of gumption after yesterday's catastrophe of a trip and endured her battle scars of superficial scratches over her arms with pride (or so she'd tell herself). Nattie and Anthony, who were only a few feet behind were thrown into dismay to the old beast innocently parked in the street with a happy Matthew on board. Did he not care that the car looked ready to collapse in itself?

John Cena, who was fiddling in the driver's seat to figure out how to use the vintage van, quickly popped his blond head in over the black dashboard and called over to the fretful Samantha, "Already tried that when I went to pick it up. Apparently, ours was rented out for the day and they gave us some of the money back," pausing, he frowned to add in, "but we got this instead. It was either the van or a tiny red car that could only fit two people."

"I think it's trippy!" Matthew declared merrily from inside the old blue van as he disappeared into the back to explore further and a loud thunk was heard from inside. Cena's head snapped to the right instantly to the noise while Samantha's eyes widened to Matthew's unknown whereabouts in the mystery van but they heard a sharp yelp, "Ow!. . .I'm okay, just scraped myself, the seat just collapsed from under me."

Ted, who wasn't particularly ecstatic about their new trip but wanted to see the ruckus as he munched on a bag of potato chips, snorted under his breath and remarked sarcastically, "Yeah, I think you just got tetanus, pal."

Samantha jogged up to where John was inspecting the side mirrors and wiping them spotless with a white rag to leave them squeaky clean for their trip up north. Today had been their last day at that particular hotel and they were headed to meet the other teams of wrestlers, hoping to stop at an art museum in Rome after checking into a small quaint inn at the outskirts of the city. Everyone had packed their luggage but their group was reduced to a cozy nine in the traveling van but with the current look of theirs, it would be a tight squeeze with the luggage. Stuffing her papers and phone into her purse, she ran her nervous palms down her jeans to settle her sudden anxiety about the ancient car and questioned in disbelief, "Do they really expect us to drive this thing? It looks ready to break down- oh my, is that a plant growing from under the bumper?"

"I think it adds character" Matthew answered perkily from inside as he popped into the driver's seat to relax, folding his muscled arms neatly behind his head with a carefree grin. Samantha and everybody else couldn't wrap their minds about how he could appear so serenely cheerful about the old van; it was unfathomable. John merely spared him a brief sidelong glance before moving to clean the other windows, an amused smile on his lips as he was dressed the part of a relaxing tourist: denim jeans and a steel gray t-shirt. Matthew simply let out a long sigh of blissful content and assured his colleagues with an infectious smile, "This is going to be fun."

Ted shifted his weight onto his left leg as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his forearms showing light hints of sunburn but his cheeks held the envious rose pink that caused him to resemble a baby that had just gotten its face pinched by cooing women. He'd opted for khaki shorts and a black polo shirt for the day to travel in style but remained scrupulously watchful in case another ugly misadventure reared its ugly head. He was prepared this time as he'd packed pepper spray for danger and sugar packets for lifesaving energy, both craftily stolen from Randy's hotel room during breakfast. Ted shook his head with incredulity to Matthew's naïve ignorance, especially after what occurred yesterday, and stated matter-of-factly with a frown, "You said that yesterday and we almost turned into unwilling human turkeys in a vineyard. If I'm gonna die, it's going to be glorious with an open casket for the ladies- not having my leg gnawed on by a ravenous coyote."

Nattie stepped up to the sidewalk to analyze every inch of their ride of the day with a critical eye, hoping the automobile wouldn't fall apart in the middle of the highway. She would keep her phone close at hand in case of a roadside emergency and grimaced with distaste on her red painted lips, "Are we really going in that thing?"

"It's cozy" Matthew reasoned optimistically to the chance of adventure since he could add mystifying charisma to the ugliest of things but Ted rolled his eyes because it looked like a plain heap of trash to him. Truly, Matthew was Samantha's angel as he kept upbeat throughout it all while lesser men would be calling a better business bureau . . . namely Ted. John slapped the smartphone out of his hand before he finished dialing the number for information, eliciting an undignified yelp from the protesting blond as he scurried off in retreat to mend to his wounded pride.

John withheld an aggravated sigh when he could clearly see Ted hiding behind the transparent doors of the hotel lobby, ashamed to his awful concealment attempt, and called out pointedly with sarcasm lacing his voice, "I can still see you, DiBiase!"

Blue eyes narrowed before slowly disappearing into the lobby. Ted made a lousy real-life villain in comparison to his on-screen persona.

"I wish you guys luck because if it's like yesterday, you're going to need it" Anthony sympathized with the group's current predicament and shot off like a bullet towards the safety of the hotel where he couldn't be dragged away against his will. One tumultuous adventure was enough to last him a lifetime with his job description and he'd found safety with the other groups heading out. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for those traveling with poor Samantha. Ted and Nattie groaned miserably as if they'd been handed the apocalypse itself, shooting the van an evil glance for ruining their trip before it even began.

Randy and John Hennigan stepped out through the front doors of the hotel with a casual ambience in their stroll as the dark-haired man announced aloud, "All right, Hennigan and I are- what the hell is that?"

Both men halted immediately as if petrified into solid stone at seeing the machine that dared to call itself a van and could sense ominous waves rolling off of it to claim them into its dangerous depths. Samantha tried to keep a cheerful grin on her face to hopefully sway them to give the hunk of metal a chance because her job pretty much depended on it or she'd be fired for failing to meet the deadline of their upcoming show- live aired or not. Plastering a bright (almost bizarrely inhuman) grin fit for a Disney character imitator on the flamboyant day parade, Samantha ushered them forward with a wave of her hand and declared jovially, "Our next adventure! C'mon on and join the Explore-Mobile of-"

"Oh, shite."

Everyone turned to see a sunburned Stephen as his smooth porcelain skin was tinted a tomato red around the cheeks and forehead, dressed from head to toe in concealing neutral hued attire to ward off the sun. To Samantha, he reminded her of a brightly blushing porcelain doll or a regular Raggedy Andy doll with his fair skin and flaming red hair. Stephen's azure eyes widened to the van and the familiar group, sensing déjà vu crawling down his spine in an ill-omened shiver which led his instincts to order to flee the scene. Before he could bolt to save himself, Randy and John grabbed his arms in an iron grip to lead him towards the van.

As far as Irish myths went, the natives of the green Isle were citizens with courage and kind charisma but when Samantha saw the grown well-dressed man yelling for help in both English and Gaelic. . .it sunk her chances of a good day. She. . .died a little inside at watching the futile struggle. Who wouldn't despair at seeing an able bodied man, one who could crush her in his hand, attempt to flee the scene? It didn't help when Stephen tried to hold onto a bicycle rack that was strategically placed near the curb and it took the strength of both men to pry the professional wrestler off the thing.

Cena shared her sentiments exactly with a shake of his head as he witnessed the rebellious struggle and murmured next to her, "It's a sad day when a man like that throws in the towel."

Ted, deciding it was time for his triumphant return and glorious intervention, dashed up to the redhead to put an end to it all. Everyone's lower jaws popped open when he proceeded to slap Stephen across the face with one swipe of his hand while yelling like a testosterone driven boot camp captain, "Dry your arse and get in the van!"

The ensuing deadpan silence that only passing car engines broke and blank stares directed at the blond wrestler prompted Ted to shrug nonchalantly for the action and ask with sarcastic offense, "What? I can't say something smart for once?"

Samantha buried her face in her hands in mortification to what had just unfolded in front of her and hoped she wouldn't have to untangle a dead Ted from the bike rack or unclog him from the nearest sewer drain. She decided to seek sanctuary within the old van by helping Matthew finish setting up the seats correctly and dusting it free of lint and dust particles. Stephen, who now sported Ted's right palm print on his sunburned left cheek, held back his boiling inner rage from murdering Ted despite his sensitive skin burned intensely with the unexpected strike and mourned the hours wasted nursing his poor skin. His blue eyes resembled glowing sapphires when he stepped up to the blond man to rectify his stupid mistake and with a stern face usually donned on-screen, demanded with a deathly whisper, "Did yah just slap meh?"

"Oh. . .crap" Ted squeaked pitifully before running off like Wile E. Coyote back into the hotel entrance once more where he was safe in its manufactured sanctuary and there was ample security in case the redhead decided to pop his head off. Ha, he could already imagine his mutilated face being on the cover of the tabloid magazines while Stephen would probably be on page two- he was the handsome of the two, after all. He'd make another dashing entrance once the coast was clear and pack into the back of the van where he couldn't be brutally murdered. For now, he would remain seated next to a concealing lobby plant that hid him from sight but that didn't mean his whole fiasco had been ignored by bystanders. His sky blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned back in his seat to shoot them a devil may care smile, "Oh, don't look so shocked."

Outside, Stephen dismissed the blond with an annoyed grunt and eyeballed the sun suspiciously, placing a brown newsboy cap over his head to protect his porcelain skin. He didn't trust it after almost baking alive yesterday and had spent the evening dabbing aloe vera gel on his tortured skin to soothe the burning sensation that lingered throughout the night. Mike and Samantha had been kind enough to offer him some Tylenol and an aloe vera-honey concoction to help the pain but their kindness was no match for his skin cells. By morning, he resembled a blushing babe from a renaissance painting and had almost ripped chunks of hair out from his scalp to his ridiculous appearance. How could he meet fans like that? Moving quickly like a floating phantom to hide next to the shade offered by the old van, he murmured under his breath in eloquent rhythm, "Away, yeh treacherous devil floatin' in space. Ah can feel yer nasty tendrils on meh tender flesh."

Randy stared at the man awkwardly for his vividly descriptive language since Stephen was a man of simple courteous words rather than the foreboding ones that were just uttered. The redhead chuckled softly to his baffled expression since Randy was usually stoically calm unless Ted poked him to bring forth the rage of a murderous bear. Keeping his gaze locked on the lobby doors, he explained simply with a small smile, "Ah took a creative writin' class online a while back."

Hennigan occupied himself by trying to pry the green plant out from underneath the bumper, not afraid to do a little gardening at a parking curb if it meant they could get on the road faster. After all, a three hour drive to Florence wouldn't be over quick. Samantha, however, objected to his weeding of the plant and banged on the rear window of the van to order quickly with a panicky pitch, "Don't! I think it's a load-bearing plant."

Randy was quick to poke holes to her claim because there was no possibility of such a thing but yet again, his own eyes were looking at a live plant poking out from underneath a car. Obviously, this was quite contradictory. The trip throughout Italy was making him question logic and his own sanity, leading him to slap his forehead to fade away his rampant thoughts and questioned firmly with thinned lips, "Load-bearing in a car? How in the world does a plant grow in a car?"

"I don't know, Randy, maybe a kid threw magic beans under the back seats or from wherever that thing starts" Nattie supplied sarcastically as all of the recent exclamations and yelling were grating on her nerves as she finished cleaning the windows with a white rag. They were quite dusty on the outside, leaving the underside of her wrists dirty, but made the best of it by reasoning her arms would get an exercise out of it. This was her ticket out of Rome in such short notice and she'd take a page out of Matthew's book by keeping brightly optimistic.

John fiddled with fixing the driving mirrors into the correct places but the holders were old and cracking at the seams which made him wary that they'd crumble under his fingers. Whoever owned this poor van did not take proper care of a vintage car that could've been gorgeous if properly maintained. If possible, he would've given it a proper funeral in a wrecking yard where parts could be donated for maintaining others of the same collection. A lament for the old van was necessary and he cleaned the car with a gentle hand to show it the care that it failed to receive. Setting up the mirrors didn't take very long in comparison to everybody else's jobs and he beckoned Randy with a wave of his hand, "Want to take turns driving?"

"I'll take the first 1 ½ hours" he agreed with a wild grin that brought nervous glances from everybody present because Randy driving would not bode well for anyone. Their troubled eyes watched him move to the back of the van to open the rear doors as he smiled happily to being on the safe free road rather than a plane that could plummet to the ground. The rusty hinges of the blue doors creaked open under the man's great strength but he exclaimed in unwelcome surprise when both Matthew and Samantha came tumbling down on top of him. They'd been cleaning the back seats with brushes in the open area that was used as trunk space but when Randy opened the doors, it had unbalanced them immediately and caused them to pile on top of the man as he fell down onto the street ungracefully on his butt.

The small group gathered at the curb and innocent onlookers stared with bewildered amusement at the jumbled heap of limbs as Randy tried to grip the street for balance. With Samantha and Matthew wriggling above him to break free of each other, it was rather hard for the man as he bore their combined weights on his torso and exclaimed exasperatedly with a frustrated growl, "This is not the purpose of a trunk!"

With the entire gang of the day gathered at curbside, each took their seats randomly in the van as Hennigan had called shotgun due to his incredibly handy GPS and would help his friend drive to their awaiting destination. Everybody else, however, feared for their precious lives when they heard this since Randy was a handful enough on the road and the two would be roadside devils by the end of the journey. Everything had been packed neatly in the trunk space by Cena after Samantha and Matthew had scurried off to flee the Viper's menacing glare by occupying themselves at a soda vending machine. Their trip would take hours on the road and they needed refreshments aside from water to keep their energy running- except for Randy, he'd receive only water for everyone's safety.

Nobody had been happy to pile into the van and this time, Ted had made one last stand against the trip but a sharp smack upside the head from Stephen and a reminder that a taxi wouldn't take him that far north silenced his pleas for mercy. Nattie had craftily shoved Samantha with Stephen in the first row of seats to keep the two together in her master plan but Ted demanded a breezy window seat to keep his skin cool, automatically inviting himself to the second row. That kicked off the mildly tempered Mike as the third person for the row, who Nattied hoped would allow them to converse since he was often nose deep in books on his iPad. Instead, Samantha was uncomfortably squished between both wrestlers as Ted tended to occupy more room than was actually necessary, leaving both her and Stephen baffled with incredulity as they occupied the other half together. Nattie made herself scarce with hidden plans in mind as the three in front argued about appropriate seat space and she took the back seat with Cena, Mike, and Matthew. Their row was the largest in the van as the first was shortened due to the door entrance as a small wedge of space occupied the small area.

"What did I tell you about sticking your head out the window?" Randy called out from up front with a tone befitting a father reprimanding his unruly child. Matthew reluctantly obeyed with a frown, withdrawing his head from the open window and settling back into his seat to buckle his safety belt. All Randy required were for his passengers to behave themselves appropriately but he was then reminded by his meddlesome brain that his friends weren't regular people.

"We're not even moving" Matthew replied listlessly with a deadpan stare because they were in the exact same spot, trapped in a wrinkle in time that didn't want to fart them into the present tense. He rested his elbow on the open window to relax in the warm van, hoping the AC would be turned on soon, and called out to the shotgun passenger, "You sure you know how to use that thing, John?"

"That's what she said" Ted joked aloud with a proud snigger to his clever wordplay, receiving a slap to the base of his head by Mike from behind seconds later. The blond man recoiled with a slighted yelp as he held his head in both arms from further harm and snapped irately with condemnation, "Ow! You people have absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever."

Hennigan finished punching in the coordinates to their destination up north and placed it on top of the dashboard with a decent volume to overcome future conversations. Knowing Ted, he would have to raise it to its full volume as the blond could become quite boisterous in his jokes and snappy comebacks. Rolling down his window, he prepared to be caressed by the wind's refreshing touch because they were experiencing another hot day and being sweaty for hours would not be comfortable. Unfortunately for him, their driver was about to sink his hopes of remaining spotless. Randy had been gauging each lever and knob in the van for quick memorization since big cars were no problem for him but it led to breaking the sad news to the group with a slow hesitant drawl, "Oh yeah, there's. . .um. . .there's no AC at all so. . ."

The unison groans of regretful misery summarized all of Randy's current feelings at the moment as he kept silent to their predicament, merely glancing at the flow of traffic to see which lane he'd take. The last thing he wanted was to be forsakenly trapped in a slow row like a person waiting for a new phone to be released. Ted, unfortunately, was the first to break under the pressure of knowing there would be no chilly air conditioning tending to his sunburned flesh and gripped the back of Randy's seat as he cried out with alarm, "Let me out! I can't see, I can't breathe, we're all gonna die-"

Samantha sighed with shameful dismay to her dramatic friend, reaching up to snatch the fashionable DKNY black sunglasses covering his eyes and chastised firmly, "You're wearing glasses, Ted, and there's a window one inch away from you. If anything, you're the safest so take heart."

Randy had already turned on the car minutes prior, its loud ancient engine hacking to life as a cloud of white billowy smoke engulfed the area with manmade fog for a good minute. Samantha was ready to peruse the classified sections for a new job when a hotel security guard had come up to ask about their rusty old van, leading Mike to charm his way out of any arising problem. Shifting the car into drive, Randy impersonated a long-distance bus driver as he gazed into the rearview mirror to call out, "All aboard, next stop: Florence."

"Oh lord, we should've just paid for train tickets like everybody else" Ted whined dolefully as he yearned for endless air conditioning to soothe away all of his pain and quickly covered his head before he was pummeled by the others. Samantha and Mike were one cunning step ahead; they blamed it on his pranking skills that prompted many to seek defense tactics of their own. She raised a handheld mirror to apply rose tinted lipstick with an innocent hand and he used the reflective glare of another mirror in his own hands, allowing Samantha to divert it with the right angle straight into Ted's unsuspecting eyes.

Everyone ignored the screaming Ted, who was furiously wiping his eyes for relief to bring back his gorgeous vision rather than the yellow starbursts exploding in his field of vision. True, they were pretty like fireworks but he preferred living people instead. Randy quickly ended their shenanigans with a sharp whistle that caused everyone to cover their ears painfully to his inhuman shriek and ordered firmly, "Cheer like a happy family."

They tried their best to sound cheerful with ringing ears as Randy turned the steering wheel to the left to begin their trip, the van blending into traffic without breaking down. They sped off to adventure as everyone split off into conversations to occupy their time for the next three hours. Randy kept his eyes locked on the paved road since European driving could be tricky in a place where he didn't know the full language while Hennigan played the navigator role as they chatted about sports back home. Matthew was unnaturally glued to the square window to witness each passing building which left the other six to converse amongst themselves. A disgruntled Ted punched the back of his seat as he tried to find comfort in the lumpy old seat and growled in complaint under his breath, "Ugh, this thing has no lumbar support. What is this, the Dark Ages?"

Mike rolled his eyes to the newest complaint of the hour before turning around to fiddle in the back of the van where their luggage was stored and grasped the white object lying at the top of the pile. If giving it to Ted would silence him like a baby with its bottle, he would offer the object of gratification to placate him. Turning around, he tossed Ted's foam pillow to the front with enough projectile strength that it bonked off of Randy's buzz cut hair and they heard his gruff voice order sternly, "Hey! Keep the party in the back."

Mike simply grinned mischievously to the blond man as he placed his square chin on the seat in front of him, causing Samantha to chuckle amusingly to his Cheshire grin as he resembled the lazy cat of Wonderland. Ted had caught his beloved white pillow, displaying his affection by pressing his cheek against it like a boy to his loyal dog, leading Mike to poke good-naturedly fun at his doting by jesting, "There's your weird pillow, DiBiase, have fun."

"It's not weird, it's memory foam!" he retorted indignantly as his pillow had become the newest joke in the group for entertainment and shook his head to their silly ignorance on the blissful sleep the pillow provided. Whatever, they'd rue the day they insulted his pillow and found themselves with none- he would laugh maniacally with triumph on that day, along with charging them decent money for profit. That was the Ted DiBiase Jr. way. He wiggled the pillow onto his lower back to release the tension the hard lumps of the seat were creating and relaxed comfortably with a content sigh. . .slumping against Samantha without invitation as she tried to peruse through her paperwork.

"Big overgrown man baby in 3. . .2. . .1" Mike teased her with a slow drawl in regards to the vineyard's gift shop, his mind truly perplexed to what dwelled in Ted's during dreamland but it was best left abandoned in the dark to preserve his own sanity. She shushed him with an embarrassed face, rose tinting her sunburned cheeks since she wanted to stay out of trouble like a good assistant and keep her job.

Nonetheless, her job description didn't include playing an uncomfortable human pillow at the sudden whim of a DiBiase and gently nudged Ted's side with her elbow to make him lie against the window. He grumbled under his breath like an unruly child before turning around to mold against the side of the van, her hand patting him on the back with motherly tenderness which quieted his cranky murmurs. Despite Ted's nonstop barrage of jokes and pranks, he was a true softie at heart- especially when it meant nabbing freebies between both of them. She looked to Stephen for idle chatting to pass the time but the redhead had already fallen asleep on his own without uttering a single peep, head rolled back against the seat as he snoozed quietly. Miraculously, his adorable cap managed to stay on his head despite being in a moving vehicle. With yesterday's drama, she expected the man to be snoring like a hibernating bear during winter but he was surprisingly soundless.

Her face softened as she smiled sympathetically to the sunburns that marred his pale skin, whispering softly to herself in private, "And you're asleep . . . you poor dear."

"Need I remind you that I was the one who became lost in the wild?" Mike pointed out matter-of-factly from behind to his unbidden rescue, his thumb jabbing at his broad chest for further emphasis to his daring courage. To Samantha, it just proved how hardheaded the gentle Mike could be sometimes when danger reared its ugly head. Nattie muffled an amused laugh behind her smooth manicured hand in remembrance to the sobbing man concealed in the dark veil of night as his grape stripes of war had smeared down his high cheekbones with tears.

"Nobody told you to go off alone" she chided gently since everybody had objected to his plan in the first place and opened the photo folder on her phone to find the picture she'd nabbed in the dark of Randy pulling on Mike's left foot in an attempt to forcefully drag him off his prison boulder. It had taken a full five minutes for Mike to trust Randy enough to release the boulder and return to the safety of the earth rather than clinging to a rock while sobbing his heart out. Nattie couldn't stop laughing the entire way home and came to believe that one could actually die from hard laughter after being rendered breathless by the time she arrived at the hotel.

Mike halted his novel perusing on his handy iPad to shoot back a reasonable reply about his heroics (it sounded nice in his head back when he'd accepted it). However, the words died on his lips when Randy's deep voice attracted their immediate attention with its hidden glee, "Get off the road, grandma! The streets are for the young! . . . Hey, she flicked me off! I ought to-"

Cena was quick to calm the man's odd fancy for road rage, leaning against the seat in front of him and reminding sharply with a wagging finger of warning, "No tailgating or racing the other cars to flash them your asses. We're not driving on American roads anymore."

"Exactly, they're not respecting Italian law! Rispettare la leggi!" Randy declared madly as he claimed sovereign law on the roads for himself and a sudden sharp swerve to the left to merge onto the next empty lane swung everyone to the right. Everybody exclaimed in surprise as they tumbled harshly within the van like mannequins, causing Matthew to painfully smack his face against the window (thankfully, without shattering it) and the sleeping Stephen to topple off his seat to abruptly wake up.

"What the-"

"Hey!"

"My iPad, for the love of Batman, save my iPad!"

Hennigan whooped excitedly in the shotgun seat to the favorable speed in the old van as he caught glimpse of another space open on the road, divulging it to Randy as his navigations officer. Yeah, he liked the ring of that. Meanwhile, Cena managed to use the textured roof of the van to balance himself by pressing his palms flat against it for stability while Nattie used her womanly strength to hold onto the seat in front of her, staying locked in place like a warrior princess. Mike, unfortunately, bounced between both Nattie and Matthew like a ping-pong ball as he held onto his pricy tablet until he could grasp the back seat for leverage. Samantha was out of luck as she fell onto her stomach on Stephen's empty seat, hanging on with what strength she had (it was nothing compared to theirs) when Ted fell directly on top of her from the swerve. Uncomfortable was a massive understatement to what she felt with the blond wrestler pinning her to the seat but Samantha managed to grasp Stephen by his brown vest to keep him from hitting his head against the metal doorway.

Simply put, it felt like a surreal scene straight out of an action film.

"This isn't a Grand Theft Auto game, Randy!" Nattie screeched with panic from the back as her fingernails practically pierced the broken leather seats to maintain her hold, grunting with annoyance when Mike crashed into her. The poor blond man had lost his grip again and was bouncing all over the place like a tennis ball, hitting his perfectly styled head on the roof of the van more than once with a sharp 'ow!' echoing.

Matthew held his throbbing left cheek painfully as he fell off his own seat and mumbled pitifully, "Ow, my tooth."

"Orton, yah arse, drive like a normal man!" Stephen yelled furiously from his uncomfortably tight wedged space between the seat and the door, praying to the heavens the old clunker wouldn't break under his weight. Samantha's rescuing hold kept firm on his vest as she refused to release him and his own hand clasped her lean forearm to keep himself from striking the door.

Randy snapped out of his gas guzzling mania at the sound of the redhead's angry bellow and decreased the speed of the van to human limits, glaring at the rearview mirror to show he wasn't pleased and growled with great reluctance, "Fine!"

Ted, who was now crushing Samantha in a very uncomfortable compromising position, finally caught a decent glance at the fuming Stephen over her left shoulder. The redhead had absolutely no idea what just happened, except that he woke up on the floor with people screaming at Randy, and quickly theorized that his colleague had been bitten by the wanderlust bug to floor the gas pedal. They really needed to put him in a class about road rage or at least, stop him from having the driver's seat during outings. Seeing Ted pinning the poor assistant underneath him brought further problems for his half-asleep neurons to process, their little hamster wheels overloading until they collapsed in exhausted little pants. The blond merely grinned in greeting, oblivious to Stephen's confounded expression on the floor (not to mention his discomfort) and piped up innocently, "Hey, you're awake. Guess what? We almost died."

"That better be gum in your pocket!" Samantha exclaimed in shameful mortification, her oval face flushing red to resemble Stephen's cherry cheeks as she tried to wriggle free. She released the redhead's silk vest to grasp the edge of the seat in a feeble attempt to throw off the muscular man, the worn leather crinkling under her fingertips as lint and dust floated into the air.

"It's a Payday" Ted answered mischievously to the humorous names of chocolate he carried in his pockets to stir laughter from his friends since they usually groaned at his jokes. Samantha, being the kind soul that she was, tried not to explode at his casual tone since she wasn't a wrestler to be pinned and was pretty certain no dignified woman would want to be in such a position in public. Well, maybe the fans who fancied him but she was definitely not one of them- especially with Stephen sitting in front of her.

Hennigan's cheerful voice from up ahead drained the color off their faces when he declared joyfully with a laugh, "Sweet! Open road ahead, Orton!"

"Hold on to something!" Mike warned quickly as the precious few seconds would allow them to prepare for the next summersault through the van, which would hopefully not leave anyone bruised horribly. He stuffed his precious tablet into his travel pack for safekeeping, shoving it under the seat quickly for protection.

Samantha screamed lividly when Ted clung onto her shoulders, leaning against her body in a way that stabbed all of the decency left in the world with a rusty sword and tried to wrench free with a fussy growl, "Not me, DiBiase!"

"Get off her, yah plonker," Stephen reprimanded sharply to seeing a woman's image sullied by DiBiase of all people and pushed him off Samantha with one hand as she scrambled to sit up with a relieved smile. The poor woman resembled a miffed disheveled cat as her hair and clothing were crumpled in disarray, her hands quickly smoothing over clothes to fix them. Her pink lips were ready to release a polite thank you to the wrestler but the car swerved to the right this time and she was sent reeling backwards against Ted, who was flattened like a cockroach against the window. Stephen yelled a curse in Gaelic as his natural tongue dominated during stressful situations, crashing into Samantha to wedge her between them like a common tiny ant against large fire ants. This brought a painful 'ow' from Ted as he was flattened into mush by both of them. She gasped breathlessly as Stephen knocked the wind out of her lungs when he fell against her upper body, his face struck with an endless suffocating curtain of black hair as he tried to escape its web.

Nattie couldn't help but laugh at their implicating positions despite the fear coursing in her bloodstream. Oh, why didn't she follow TJ with the other team? Right, for the challenge to claim herself as the prestigious top matchmaker against the other women who knew about Samantha's little crush. Mike's hand shot out to grasp the collar of Ted's black shirt with an iron grip that lit up his clear blue eyes and yelled with a parental tone to all of them, "Hey, no happy time while we're in mortal danger!"

Ted growled against the window he was tightly squashed against, his exhaling breath fogging up the clear glass as his strength failed to find an inch of space to maneuver through. He managed to twist his head to the right to glare at Mike, hoping he hadn't wrinkled his shirt with his grip, snapping sharply with a disgruntled voice, "Trust me, this is not pleasurable for anyone. Sam, your elbow's in my liver-"

"Yeah, well, Stephen's crushing my bosom" Samantha shot back with a pained grunt to their physical predicament as the force behind Randy's driving kept them pinned quite well and hoped for another swerve that would untangle their linked limbs. Why, oh, why did they let Randy the road hog drive? Stephen shook his head free from her ensnaring hair with flushing doll-like cheeks to her remark since he was crushing the poor woman under his weight but she met his mortified gaze to giggle aloud with a witty grin, "Heh. Bosom."

It was an instant icebreaker for the two and surprisingly, this stirred a small laugh from everyone despite the fact they resembled inanimate clothes in a dryer machine.

A/N: I cannot believe I left this story unattended for so long but recent alerts and a check-up review (Lola) smacked me into restarting it, especially because I love humor. Plus, I'm glad to see the Sheamus section has grown remarkably since I was last on here so yeah! Obviously, the rosters have changed a bit since then so I am asking the readers and reviewers to tell me who they want to see in the story as I'll be incorporating wrestlers from both shows in similarity to how they currently appear on both shows. I'm a writer that loves character development so I have to chisel all of my characters uniquely but Stephen and Mike will be major ones, along with Ted and Nattie.

The next chapter will be Stephen, the King of Cats (I promise this time) as the old van finally sputters its last breath and the group is forced to see refuge at a cozy inn that isn't all that it seems.

Preview (unedited):

"No, don't you die on me, you son of a-" Randy snarled heatedly with defiance towards the vehicle as they fought a battle of wills with the gas pedal. It might be old but the rental place told them that it had decent mileage left for the long trip since they'd be leaving it at one of their stations before hitting Florence's Galileo Galilei international airport for Paris, France. He promised to bring his colleagues to Florence with no problems from the antique vehicle and Randy Orton never broke his word (faces, however, were a different matter).

"You're gonna flood it!" Matthew called out in alarm, no longer attached to the sightseeing window because he didn't want to become stranded in the middle of a foreign land. Yes, it was undoubtedly beautiful but he didn't know a lick of Italian- he was a lost little puppy!

"No, it's vapor lock" Mike stated smartly as his mind scrolled down the list of common car problems in relation to fuel, if that's what it was. Samantha and Nattie remained quiet since this was 'man' land where handsome immortal cars roamed majestically over fields of asphalt. It was a natural trait in men to protect their precious cars like a soul mate and the death of one wasn't easy to take- especially if it was the old clunker they were currently occupying.

"No, give it more gas!" Ted countered with a new idea set on the table but Randy had already fiddled with the gas pedal, which did absolutely nothing. It could've been the battery, given the outer condition of the van, but doubted that the rental station rarely loaned the car. They were blind in this situation since nobody owned cars this old.

"No, don't give it gas!" Cena shouted quickly since most cars stalled with an influx of gas to their system, leading Ted to cross his arms in defiance. Nattie could only sigh as the men butted heads over who was right when the most important thing was to figure out how to stop the car from dying. She could already feel the car trembling underneath her feet and was not about to walk to Florence in high-heel shoes during a hot day. The asphalt was probably hot enough to fry eggs on!

"We should pull over!" Stephen yelled over all of them as the calm voice of reason, besides Mike, while the blond man fiddled with his phone to find a web site that would help to figure out their problem. The Irishman, however, wasn't one to depend solely on technology or afraid to get his hands dirty in which he added in, "Stop the car and look at the engine!"

"One at a time, people!" Randy shouted to them all to bring the rabble of yells back to silence because none was getting through nor working on the car. If anything, Stephen's idea made the most sense but he couldn't risk stopping in case the van died instantly after turning it off. It had taken three turns of the key to start it in the first place! All he could do was veer towards the right where the emergency lane was located but with span of land being empty and flat for miles, there was no danger of a sudden collision.