WWE Fan Fiction ❯ The Bad Guys Club ❯ Chapter 11

Author's Note: The first few chapters are PG-13ish, but I rated it for Mature Audiences because there's slash and smut. I don't own anyone or anything, just Teresa, Angelo, and Dr. Cynthia. My friend Rosy owns herself. I'm a huge fan of The Bad Girls Club, so why write a WWE fanfic based on it? Feedback's appreciated. Don't read and/or post nasty comments if you can't handle it. Don't take this without permission as well.

 

 

It was a fine July morning in Chicago. People are pigging out at The Taste, boys drumming their buckets in front of the Art Institute of Chicago, birds are chirping, dogs are barking, and sirens from an ambulance are blaring. But, outside of a house on the northwest side of the city…Hell broke loose…

 

“Give me back my juice and Twinkies or else!” a drunken Chris Jericho (Now, Crazy Chris) yelled at Hunter Hearst Helmsley.

 

“Or else what?!” he responded. “Chris, you ask me nicely—

 

“I don't have to fucking ask you nicely!”

 

“Well, you don't talk to me like that!”

 

Before you know it, a fight broke out in the middle of the dead-end street between the two, and Adam ran out of the house screaming at Chris to stop, even stepping in between. The security (Made of off-duty referees) that was protecting the Bad Guys stepped in to break the fight, and so did Randy and Shawn. The security and Adam were all over Chris being that he was the drunk one in the fight. The Nature Boy, Ric Flair, who came here to visit the Bad Guys (actually, his former Evolution stable mates and Shawn), was surprised to witness that a war had erupted between the six men prior to his visit. When security and Adam held back Chris, Hunter snuck in a sucker punch at the shorthaired Canadian before Ric, Randy, and Shawn pulled him out. “Yeah, how do you like that, now?” yelled the Game. “I just punched you in your face! Ha!”

 

“Yeah?!” responded Chris. “The last fucking minute when I already had the most advantage before it was broken up! Look at the blood on your face!”

 

Suddenly, Hunter noticed that his nose was bleeding badly, his DNA dripping on the sidewalk. “He did break his nose!” exclaimed Adam.

 

Everyone went back into the house, with the Nature Boy wondering what happened, and Randy told him everything. He also smelled the alcohol as the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla passed out on the reclining chair in the living room. Shawn and Hunter went to one of the rooms upstairs, and the Heartbreak Kid gave the Game a cold pack to put over his bleeding nose. While the Urchins were in the kitchen, and Randy and Ric outside by the pool, Chris woke up and heard Shawn come down the stairs. Thinking it was Hunter, the Sexy Beast stormed out of the living room towards the bottom of the stairs. “Chris, don't come up here,” warned the Heartbreak Kid.

 

“Fuck you,” he responded in a slur. “You don't belong here.”

 

Just as Shawn was about to climb down the stairs, Chris attacked him from behind, screams stinging the ears of the Street Urchins. Randy and Ric stepped in from outside to pull Y2J from clawing HBK's neck. “Chris, cut it out!” Adam yelled at his fellow Canadian Urchin, carrying him under his arm as if he were an alley cat.

 

“You wanna fuck with me again, Triple H?!” yelled Chris.

 

And like an alley cat, the Sexy Beast jumped off the stoops, followed Shawn to the living room, and threw a couple punches at him. “Chris, stop!” yelled Adam.

 

“Jericho, you're going too far, now!” Ric cried. “Stop it!”

 

“Get away from me!” Shawn responded to Chris, throwing in a couple of punches of his own, but as he tried another punch, Chris pulled at his hair, and attacked the wounds he made on the Texan's neck.

 

“Chris, knock it off!” cried Randy.

 

“Chris, cut it out!” cried Adam. “You're dragging it out, dude! Cut it out!”

 

Chris was screaming insults, and wouldn't let go of Shawn's hair. He kept punching and punching, even after Adam and the former two members of Evolution used their combined weight to pull his crazy, drunk ass off. “Get off of me!” screamed the Showstopper as he pushed his face back and kicked him on his chest and back a few times (they were both on the living room floor).

 

“Chris, I'm gonna box your ears out if you don't let go of Shawn!” yelled Ric.

 

“Fucking piece of shit!” yelled Chris. “I'll kill you! I'll kill you!”

 

As Shawn retreated to the kitchen, Ric and Adam carried Chris to the couch, and the Nature Boy said to the drunken Urchin, “You stay here and cool off. There will be no more from you, Jericho.”

 

“Flair, he's not a fucking child!” said Adam.

 

“Doesn't matter, anyway,” said Randy. “He's gonna go home. He attacked Shawn for no reason, acting like goddamn Ripsi!”

 

Adam believed if only Hunter had bought back Chris's juice and Twinkies, this incident wouldn't happen. But, he also believed that it wasn't about the juice or the Twinkies, or the missing picture of him and Chris Benoit. Y2J was a rageaholic, and the drinking bottled his anger in to where everyone was a victim in the house, or his anger gave him a high to where everyone in the house was clueless to what triggered that. That high Chris needed to stay sane.

 

Ten minutes later, Chris woke up from another drunken stupor on the couch, climbed over it (falling over), headed by to where the shark tank bar was, and tossed the chairs towards the walls, breaking them. He grabbed the shot glasses by the shelves, and threw them toward the doors to the outside gazebo, shattering the glass doors. Then, he went to the kitchen and threw the pots and pans towards the cupboards, splintering the wood. “Alright, you wanna fuck with me again?!” he yelled in a slur as he punched holes in the walls.

 

He tossed a few chairs around, breaking them, too.

 

“Chris, don't be fucking the house up!” Chavo yelled from outside by the pool. “I gotta live here, man! I'm gonna come in there—

 

“Die, motherfucker!” Then, Chris yanked the flat screen computer monitor and PC from the outlets and threw it towards the glass doors to the pool, shattering the doors (the computers broke into many pieces as well).

 

“Hey, don't break the computer!”

 

Chris went back into the living room, grabbed an old, rusted hammer and broke the windows and table with it. He grabbed the large fake plant near the couches and tossed it towards the shark tank bar, shattering the container (not the shark tank) into pieces. Adam and Chavo saw the wreckage throughout the entire house, and noticed their leader swaying around, face turning pink. To Adam, when Chris was in his “Crazy Chris” stage when he got drunk (when he drinks to fuel his rage, actually), he had this deranged serial killer look on his face, and his blue eyes were penetrating. “What is wrong with you?” the Rated R Superstar asked him. “Why did you trash the house?”

 

“I'm not trashing the house,” the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla responded with a slur. “I'm giving it a makeover.”

 

“What?! A makeover for whom? You fought with Hunter in the street, then you attacked Shawn by ripping up his neck, and now you've turned our house into a slum. Chris, you really need to rest and reevaluate your thinking, man.”

 

Suddenly, Ric and few members of security tackled Chris and restrained him in a straightjacket moments later after the shorthaired Canadian stabbed the walls with a butcher knife in the kitchen. They dragged him into the phone room where he could rest, and Adam confronted him again. “Chris, you can't attack people and the house like that,” he told him. “I hope you know that. You gotta calm down, okay? Please, get some rest, okay? Don't try and rip the phone like you did last time.”

 

Again, Chris fell into a drunken stupor in the phone room. He woke up a few minutes later yelling for Randy to get him out of the straightjacket so he can smoke a cigarette. What the Legend Killer didn't know was that after he freed him from the straightjacket, Chris actually tricked him, going after Hunter. The Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla tripped on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, then climbed up. “I dare you to fuck with me again!” he yelled into the hallway in a slur.

 

“Chris!” Shawn yelled from his bedroom. “You need to go to bed!”

 

All of a sudden, Chris stormed into the adjacent bedroom where Hunter was resting and attacked him. “You know what the guys told me?!” he shrieked at him, pulling his hair and choking him, even scratching his eyes out. “That you don't give a shit about me!”

 

Hunter punched back trying to get him off him. Just then, Adam, Shawn, and Chavo ran into the room. “Shit!” cried the Rated R Superstar. “He's fighting Hunter again!”

 

“Oh, my goodness!” Shawn gasped.

 

Randy and Ric ran into the room where everyone were in and saw Chris attacking Hunter…again. “Let him go, Jericho!” said Randy as he and Ric tried to pull Chris from the Cerebral Assassin.

 

“He's been sleeping!” Shawn yelled. “He's been sleeping!”

 

The Legend Killer grabbed the shorthaired blond Canadian by his naturally curvy waist, and tried to pull him off from choking Hunter to death. “Let his neck go, man!” cried the Nature Boy.

 

“Chris, get off of him now!” cried Randy and Shawn.

 

“Let him go!”

 

While the former Evolution members and Shawn tried desperately to pull Chris off him, Adam and Chavo watched, sharing a large bag of Doritos together. The whole time Adam had been trying to hard to prevent getting Chris sent home, Chavo just stood there and watched. If it didn't have anything to do with him, they were on their own. The Mexican Warrior had nothing to do with it. For him, it was just pure entertainment (being that the house wasn't equipped with a television or a stereo), and he sat laughing, eating Doritos and watching Chris having a grip so tight on Hunter's neck, that not even a forklift could barely get the first Undisputed Champion off of Hunter. Finally, they got Chris off of Hunter. The Game caught his breath, nose still bleeding all over the sheets. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” The Nature Boy yelled at Chris.

 

“Yeah, man!” agreed Randy. “Get out of the room!”

 

Unexpectedly, Shawn noticed more blood seeping from Hunter's face and cried, “Hunter, your eye!”

 

Randy saw the bloodied eye and yelled, “Ah, hell no! Get out of the fucking room!”

 

“That's it!” yelled Ric. “Jericho, get out now!”

 

“Fuck you!” Chris screamed at Hunter, about to attack him again, but the Nature Boy and the Legend Killer held him back.

 

“Jericho!” Randy yelled. “Get the fuck out, now!”

 

Ric tossed the Sexy Beast onto the floor, and yelled for him to leave the room. “You're disrespecting me!” he told him as he saw him slinking off to sleep in Shawn's room.

 

“Yeah, man!” said the Legend Killer. “Get out of the room, man! Get out of the room! You know not to try that shit with me, motherfucker!”

 

Three hours later, the WWE chairman, Vince McMahon stopped by to visit the Bad Guys to see their progress. But, when the billionaire entered the house, his eyes widened at the wreckage in the living room, the area by the shark tank bar, and the kitchen. He saw the holes in the walls, the stabs on the kitchen walls. He also saw the broken glass on the doors surrounding the living room, bar area, and kitchen, and the broken glass door in the phone room. Vince's face grew red, so he asked one of the referees (posing as Bad Guys Club security), “WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON HERE?! WHO TRASHED THE DAMN HOUSE?!”

 

“It's a long story, Mr. McMahon!” he replied, hesitantly.

 

“You know how much this house costs?! Damnit, where's my no-good son-in-law?!” The Party Animals came in at the wrong time. “Triple H! Orton! Michaels! You got some nerve coming in my presence after what you did to this goddamn house! Especially you, Hunter!”

 

“Vince—Hunter tried to explain.

 

“You brought that goddamn sledgehammer and punched holes in the walls, did you?!”

 

“Vince, really—

 

“I KNEW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN!! I TOLD JR THIS WASN'T GONNA WORK!! I PUT SEVEN MEN LIVING TOGETHER FOR FOUR MONTHS INSTEAD OF BEING SUSPENDED, ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!!”

 

“Vince, calm down!” pleaded the Legend Killer.

 

“Don't you tell me to calm down!”

 

Just then, Ric stopped by, and before Vince could start yelling and blaming, the Nature Boy explained everything to him, including the war that wreaked havoc between the six men, the police stopping by to respond to complaints the neighbors made towards the house. Most importantly, the referee told the billionaire about the fight between the Cerebral Assassin and the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla, Chris Jericho, which led to Chris attacking Shawn (and Hunter again). Hunter may have suffered a broken nose and his face in stitches, and all Randy could tell Vince was that, “Yeah, Jericho went Ripsi and attacked DX, and he trashed the house.”

 

“Who the hell is Ripsi?”

 

“Oh, you don't watch reality series?”

 

“I don't need to watch them!” Vince's face turned red. “I'm Vincent Kennedy McMahon, damnit! If it wasn't for me, every single one of you wouldn't be here!”

 

“Vince, if it wasn't for you,” Hunter said sarcastically, “I wouldn't have taken your daughter's virginity.”

 

“How dare you! Now, this Ripsi, is this some kind of an illness that Jericho's got that would make him do this?!”

 

“No,” explained the Legend Killer. “A Ripsi is someone who's a rageaholic who self-medicates with alcohol, and without thinking, attacks people and things for no reason. It's on UrbanDictionary.com. We can search our names on there!”

 

“You mean, on the web, right?”

 

“Yeah,” said Shawn. “But, there's one thing about that: Chris threw the computer outside and broke it.”

 

A slight pause…

 

“HE DID WHAT TO THE COMPUTER?! OH, THAT'S IT! THAT IS IT, DAMNIT! WHERE THE HELL IS CHRIS JERICHO?!”

 

“Who the fuck is yelling again?!” Adam joined the others in the living room.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Vince yelled at him.

 

“It's either those three dumb fucks—

 

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Hunter asked him.

 

“No, do you? Then shut up!”

 

“You shut up!”

 

“You shut up!”

 

“Damnit, STOP IT!!” Vince yelled. “Edge, go find Jericho and bring him here while I talk to the referees—I mean, security about the whole thing.”

 

Adam stuck his tongue out and flipped the bird at the Cerebral Assassin, who tried to attack him, but Vince yelled. “DAMNIT, I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH! ADAM, GO DO WHAT I TELL YOU!!”

 

“Yeah, go do what he tells you, Adam!” Hunter mocked the boss.

 

Vince turned to the Game. “AND YOU STOP PISSING EVERYONE OFF!!”

 

“Vince, calm down! Why are you yelling at me? I didn't do anything!”

 

“That's just it! That's just it! And you know what my daughter tells me?! That you don't even clean up after yourself! You live like a goddamn bum! I'll be surprised that you do clean up here! What kind of a husband are you?!”

 

Shawn giggled and Hunter gave him the longest stare, which got him into a deadpan state. Meanwhile, upstairs in Shawn's room, Chris was still asleep on the bed, when the Rated R Superstar shook him awake. “What?” he muttered.

 

“You are in big trouble, man,” Adam told him. “Vince is downstairs pissed off!”

 

“What I'd do?”

 

“You attacked everyone and trashed the house.”

 

“I attacked?”

 

“Yeah, man. You got angry and you were pissed that Hunter didn't buy your juice and Twinkies back, and you somehow broke his nose fighting in the street with him. Then you trashed the house and attacked Shawn.”

 

A slight beat, then…

 

“I attacked Shawn? For what?”

 

“Maybe you thought he was Hunter. Poor Shawn. Then, you went back and attacked Hunter, and scratched his face up.”

 

The Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla gave him a blank look. “I don't remember it.”

 

“All this week you've been demanding that Triple H buy your stuff back, and that picture—

 

“I know that, but all I remember was last night I went to a bar to cool off. Dude, I swear, man! That's all I remember! Dude, what the hell is wrong with me?!” He noticed that he was sleeping in the Heartbreak Kid's bed. “Why am I in Shawn's bed?!”

 

“Is he up?!” Vince yelled from the top of the stairs, then he and Ric marched up to Shawn's room where Chris was sleeping and gave him a hard stare.

 

“Vince,” said Chris. “What the fuck did I do today?!”

 

“You know exactly what you did today, Jericho!” yelled Ric.

 

“I don't remember the whole day!”

 

“OH, YOU DON'T REMEMBER, HUH?!” the WWE chairman and the Naitch yelled.

 

“GET YOUR ASS DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW!” yelled the chairman. “I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO REMEMBER!! YOU'VE BEEN OUT GETTING TIPSY LAST NIGHT, HAVEN'T YOU, CHRISSY?! YOU SMELL LIKE IT!!”

 

Then, Vince pulled Chris out of bed and dragged him to the bottom of the stairs. “You know I can sue you for that?” responded the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla.

 

Chris went into the kitchen to join Chavo, and Adam followed him. Chavo noticed a black eye on Chris's face (where Hunter had sucker punched him earlier), and cried, “Damn, he socked you good!”

 

“Where?” Chris picked up a cake knife and saw his reflection. His right eye was bruised, and he was pissed. “That fucker! He got the last punch! If I go home because of him, I swear to god, I will travel from Tampa to Connecticut and beat the holy hell out of him! Vince can call the fucking cops on me, because I will fucking murder him!”

 

Adam rolled his eyes, for he had had it with Chris's rage, and he learned an important lesson today: When a friend is fighting someone, you hold the enemy back so that the friend can get in that last shot. “You've already won, Jericho!” he told him. “Let's leave it at that!”

 

“Today doesn't count because I don't remember what exactly went down between Hunter and me. I don't remember what exactly went down between Michaels and me—

 

“Yeah, even if you were sober enough to know what you were doing, was it worth it? Not only did you fight Hunter and Shawn, but you trashed the entire house, and the computer PC and monitor are outside in pieces.”

 

“I can't help it!”

 

“That's just it! You need to control it! As of now, you can't do anything about it. Vince and security are talking in the back.”

 

Outside by the pool, Randy and Shawn were overhearing the Urchins arguing in the kitchen. “Doesn't he understand the concept of, `You can't attack people like that'?” Randy said.

 

“I don't care about today,” Shawn said. “But as far as the picture is concerned, it's going to be me and him.”

 

“He's not going to find out about the picture. We'll just never tell him. But, you know something, Shawn? It'll be really intriguing to see how the Street Urchins do without their leader.”

 

Two hours passed by, and after talking over with security, Vince called for an emergency house meeting, in which all the Bad Guys headed to the living room. Chris, who changed into new clothes and sobered up, sat across the others and next to the chairman. “First off,” Vince began, “I will not allow violence to take part in this house, and in this experience you six gentlemen are going through. I can't for everyone's safety. I've thought it through, and I am not going to focus on what happened today between Chris, Hunter, and Shawn, but I am looking at the full picture of what I've seen and heard from security. Jericho and Triple H, both of you have contributed to where it got today, despite the fact that Jericho was intoxicated. I've heard about the police stopping by to control this madness after numerous complaints from neighbors in the area. I've heard threats, and I don't give a damn if you guys are joking around. A threat is a threat, and when I hear a threat, I have to take it seriously. With that being said, both of you should go home because you have threatened each other or other people in this house.”

 

At the tone of the news, Adam raked his long blond hair back and screamed through the pillow. “No!” he screamed. “That's not fair! The first person who lays a hand is the one who fucking goes!”

 

“Hey, the hands were laid on me!” Hunter said, which vexed the two Urchins sitting next to him on the couch.

 

“Don't even!” said Chris. “Don't even!”

 

“Damnit, stop it!” Vince yelled at the Urchins and Hunter exchanging fiery words. “That's enough, damnit!”

 

“I swear, I'll crack Hunter's skull!” said Chavo, looking at the Cerebral Assassin smiling away.

 

“Chavo, stop!” said Vince. “Just listen to what I have to say. I feel that you have in you, Jericho and Triple H, to work this out, but the only way to work this out is through therapy. If I send you home suspended, then what have I done? The point of it is to learn from each other, and work it out, and walk out of it in a better place. The two of you are going to separate hotels tonight to think this clearly, and to get out of this situation because I feel that the both of you need to have a clear head of how you're going to handle this, and whether or not the both of you can work it out. I'll expect to see you two a week from today at 11a.m. to meet with a therapist. I want you to really think this through, and think if you can make it for the next three months, or else, yes, I will ask you to pack your bags.”

 

Hunter hated it! He had been to counseling before. Chris was the one who went Ripsi on everyone, and he was lucky that he didn't break his nose. But Adam felt that Chris deserved to stay in the house more than everyone else in order for him to control his anger, and he believed that he could do that with him and Chavo at his side. The Chicagoan heat broke through with a thunderstorm as the Urchins gave Chris a hug in front of a hotel by the Chicago River downtown. The Party Animals did the same to Hunter at another hotel in the suburbs. “Bye, you crazy bastard,” Randy said. “I'm gonna miss you!”

 

The Legend Killer was worried, though. If Hunter didn't come back, then their group went from the majority to the minority. A week later, two days before the two faction leaders had to return to the house for their meeting with the therapist, Chris was expecting room service in his hotel suite. But it was in the form of a familiar blond Australian. “Jesse?” he exclaimed.

 

“I figured you'd be here,” he smiled as he raked his long blond hair back.

 

“You figured I was here or did Adam give you the details?”

 

“Both.” Jesse caressed his cheek. “How are you holding up?”

 

“Dude, you make it sound like I'm in jail. Well, the continental breakfasts here are good, but other than that, I'm okay.”

 

“Good.” The Aussie pulled the shorthaired blond Canuck in for a tantalizing kiss. “Because we need to talk.”

 

“So you knew about my love for you?” Chris pulled his shirt off, caressed his thin, curvy frame, and nuzzled at the crook of his neck.

 

“Yes. Oh, Chris, I've always wanted this.”

 

Jesse took off Chris's shirt and caressed his robust muscular chest. Their mouths connected, tasting each other as they caressed each other, until Adam showed up and joined in. He took off his shirt, and pulled off Chris's jeans and boxers while locking lips with Jesse. Chris took off Adam's jeans and boxers and began pumping his shaft. The Rated R Superstar pushed his wrist away, and got Jesse to stroke his shaft. Chris also took off Jesse's jeans and noticed that he wasn't wearing any underwear. Someone's a little kinky, he thought as he stroked the Aussie's cock.

 

“Get inside him,” Adam whispered into Jesse's ear.

 

Jesse responded with a kiss and grabbed the tube of KY from the nightstand drawer. He slicked his fingers into the stuff, and entered Chris one digit at the time. When he entered the third digit, caressing his prostrate, the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla pulled at his long blond locks and panted. Jesse smiled and slicked his cock with the KY, spread his legs apart, and entered him, causing Chris to moan and pant loudly all over the hotel suite. While Jesse was fucking him, Adam slicked his fingers with the KY and entered the Aussie two digits at a time, before entering the third one. He slicked his cock and entered the Aussie, causing him and Chris to moan.

 

Adam reached to Chris and kissed him as his hair was getting caressed and he was fucking Jesse. Jesse reached to kiss Chris as he continued to pound into him and hit that sweet spot within him, and Adam did the same to him from behind. Their vocal response to pleasure echoed the walls of the hotel suites as Chris begged Jesse to fuck him harder and faster, and the Aussie did the same to the Rated R Superstar. A wave of white fire engulfed the three as Chris came first, shooting his load on Jesse's and his own chests, Adam came next, shooting his load inside Jesse from behind, and Jesse came last, shooting his load inside of the shorthaired blond Canadian.

 

Then, Adam grabbed Chris and he pulled him up to where they were standing on their knees. He caressed his older lover's naturally curvy, yet muscular chest as he entered from behind, creating rapid thrusts while Jesse deep throated him and pumped his own in rhythm. And in rhythm, Chris turned his head over to Adam and kissed him, muffling their moans until all three of them came and collapsed on the bed. They headed into the covers and held onto each other as Adam said to Chris, “Now, will this clear your mind until you come back to the house?”

 

“Uh-uh,” was all Chris muttered from his mouth as he and his two lovers succumbed to the Sandman's sand.

 

The next afternoon, after Chris showered, changed, and watched (ironically speaking) The Bad Girls Club, on free satellite television, he decided to call the house. “Hello?” Shawn picked up the phone there.

 

“Yeah, can I speak to Adam or Chavo?” he asked him.

 

“Is this Chris?”

 

“Yeah, whom am I speaking to?”

 

“Shawn.”

 

“Shawn! We need to talk about last week. I'm sorry that I attacked you. I got so drunk that day, and I blacked out. Adam had to tell me what had happened.”

 

“Chris, it's all right. I knew you wouldn't remember this and that. But I wanted to talk to you as well.”

 

“About what? You're not going to talk me into allying with Triple H, are you?”

 

“No. This is something else. We have a problem. This is about you and me.”

 

“Me and you? We have a problem? Again?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“But I didn't say anything about you other than me attacking you.”

 

Shawn slapped his forehead. “Chris! Don't worry about it! Look, I'll take you out to lunch, and we'll talk about it, all right?”

 

“Uh, I'm kinda broke.”

 

“I'll pay. Where are you staying so I can pick you up?”

 

“I don't know the name of it, but it's on Wacker Drive. I'll meet you outside in front of the hotel.”

 

Shawn hung up the phone, got dressed, and fixed his hair. The fact that he was the one that ripped up Chris's picture of him and Chris Benoit kept eating at his conscience. It was the perfect time to tell him about it since he was still fuming at Hunter, and he probably wouldn't care about him ripping up the picture as much as he would maybe, last week or an hour ago. The Heartbreak Kid stared at the mirror in the living room for any flaws as he turned to Randy and said, “Gotta look pretty before I get my butt kicked…again.”

 

“Don't worry,” smiled the Legend Killer. “But if he does, and you die or something, I'll miss you.”

 

“I know you'll do. At least my party would be better than the Nature Boy's—they don't call me the Showstopper for nothing.”

 

While Shawn was gone, Teresa stopped by with a gift. She went into Randy and Hunter's room where Randy was and they both embraced themselves and kissed. “I got you a little present,” the biracial blonde smirked angelically as she awarded the Legend killer with a red and green hoodie.

 

“How sweet, thank you,” he said as he laid it over the footboard. “Hey, get this. Chris has been missing this picture that had him and a very good friend of his who passed away like last year under mysterious circumstances in it. Shawn was the one who ripped it up, and now he's taking him out to lunch just so he can tell him what happened.”

 

“PFFFH!” Teresa stuck out her tongue. “So actually, he just basically sacrificed himself, and he's not coming back.”

 

Outside of the hotel located by the Chicago River on Wacker Drive, Chris waited for an hour for Shawn to pick him up. Finally, he saw the red car with Shawn honking away and he got in. They drove up to Clark Street to where they found a Golden Nugget Pancake House near Diversey in the Lincoln Park neighborhood. From the sound of his voice on the phone and by offering to take me out to lunch, thought the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla. He's done something to piss me off again, I know it. And the only way he could make it up is by feeding me, which is not even true. Well, this is better than the hotel food I've had all week.

 

As they seated and ordered, Shawn asked him, “So do you want me to tell you before or after we eat?”

 

“Before,” replied Chris.

 

“Maybe it's better if I tell you after, `cause you'll get upset and you won't even eat.”

 

“Shawn, cut to the chase. What the hell did you do this time? Did you trash my stuff?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you and Michael Cole blog something about me on Fan Nation?”

 

“No. Chris, it's worse than that.”

 

“It's worse than that? What the hell do you mean by that? Is it about the picture?”

 

“Yeah, I ripped it up. I was high on caffeine the night before John Cena left the house. Hunter had to tell me what I did in that hotel trash can with that picture because I still didn't remember until last week when you were drunk. I know that picture meant everything to you, and I'm sorry about it.”

 

With that confession being brought out to the table, all Chris wanted to do was to throw out the water from his glass and shatter it on his other good eye, damaging it more than he did the other eye when he threw him into the Jeritron, and other stuff. But, he had ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, so who else was going to pay for that other than the Heartbreak Kid? “I brought some pictures of mine that you can rip,” Shawn said as he brought out an envelope full of his pictures of his wife and children.

 

Chris stared him as if he were crazy. “Promise me that you won't go into my stuff again,” he sternly told him, pushing the envelope away. “Especially if it's something that hits closer to me, you know? Put you pictures away, man. I'm really upset.”

 

“Well, why'd you think I haven't drunk any Coke as of late? Please, just rip them and get it over with.”

 

“Shawn, put them away. I'm not going to rip them. That's not me, and you should know that. Yeah, I would've seriously hurt you or make you see on one eye, but ripping your pictures is another thing. Put them away. This is the last time, man, and I mean it. I am upset, but I'll let it go.”

 

Chris refusing to rip up his memories showed Shawn that he was a real person than he and the two Party Animals combined. They did agree on one thing while living in the house: They had to control themselves physically and emotionally. Shawn needed the Lord's Prayer to help him, and Chris needed to see an anger management therapist who was stopping by tomorrow.

 

Meanwhile, Randy and Teresa hung out at a fast food joint eating their burgers. Teresa noticed the Legend Killer's wrist and asked, “You got another tattoo?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied. “When I was with Rosy, I really wanted to get it done. It's `Love Conquers All' in Latin, but I got it with a strike through it.”

 

“Now what happens when that reigns true on there? Are you going to get that taken out?”

 

“Well, I'm not saying that love is dead, I'm just saying that I'm crossing out love conquers everything. I need to be realistic here.”

 

“I believe love's a thing that stands through everything no matter what, and I just don't believe that was because apparently, it didn't.”

 

Randy took a sip from his Pepsi. “Yeah, I really did love this woman.”

 

“I think, Randy, that you haven't found the right situation, and one day, some princess will be in distress somewhere, and all that's going to go to hell.” The biracial blonde gave a sarcastic smirk as she popped a fry in her mouth. “Thank you.”

 

Teresa was a decent woman, and he liked her when he was wasted on rum and cokes. Randy could see that in her. She was the type of woman who would submit to guys. There was something in the Legend Killer that made him pretend to be the nice guy, which he wasn't. And he was raised never to put his hands on a woman, anyway. Later that night at the house, Teresa slept in Randy's bed, but where was the Legend Killer? He sat at the (new) computer wearing the hoodie she gave him blogging and washing his emotions away with a bottle of vodka by him.

 

There was a reason why he got that tattoo on his wrist. Love didn't conquer everything. As the biracial blonde slept away in his bed, Randy wished that was Rosy in his bed, and not her. He knew he didn't belong with Rosy, and it was so weak of him to cheat on her when he wanted to break up with her before living in the house. The next morning, Randy got up from the couch and noticed Teresa looking for him. Like a rabbit, he tried to run and hide from her sight. “Randy?” the biracial blonde called out for him looking in the living room where she last saw him. “Where are you?”

 

She looked in the dressing room upstairs, and the basement gym, but no sign of the Legend Killer. Randy saw her coming from the gym in Chris and Adam's room, so he unlocked the deadbolt on the door and ran upstairs to Shawn's room. It was bad idea to even hide in the bedrooms downstairs, being that they also had doors to outside where Teresa could've gotten in. Randy only liked Teresa when he was drunk, and when he was sober, he couldn't understand why he was so attractive to her. “Great,” Teresa muttered to herself as she left the house. “What a fucking idiot.”

 

“Hey, man,” Randy called his friend Angelo in the phone room. “Listen to this, so I was hanging out with Teresa last night. She's in my bed, and I'm tossing and turning, and I could think about was that I wished that she was Rosy.”

 

“Goddamn it, Randy,” he scoffed. “You know what? You're an—

 

“I know, I know!”

 

“There's something wrong with you, dude. It's the one decision you make not to be with her, but then to go back and forth and fuck with her emotions, that's just messed up.”

 

“Dude, it's not fucking with her emotions. I just—I feel miserable, too—

 

“Well, why'd you do that for if you weren't sure? I thought the whole point of it was that you were sure that this was what you wanted—

 

“I thought I was sure, Angelo. I don't know. I just don't! I have this `grass is greener syndrome'. I'll just never be happy with any girl, and so be it. I feel Rosy was the only person close enough that I can get to happiness.”

 

Later in the morning, Chris came to the house to meet with the therapist. After a long talk with Shawn at the pancake house, he decided to take this anger management session a try in order to appreciate his second chance of coming back in the house, for he knew it would be the last time he could get at this. He gave his two fellow Urchins hugs and they hung out in the kitchen, and he told them, “It's to the point where my yelling means nothing, and my actions mean nothing.”

 

“I agree, man,” said Chavo. “But you know something? For me, it's much easier to insult them, talk shit about their family. I do that to make them feel like they're nothing here.”

 

“Yeah,” Adam added. “That's what I do. Makes me feel better.”

 

“Yeah, I'll even sit there and make them cry.”

 

Jericho's back in the house, Randy thought to himself as he sat on the couch next to the stairs and kitchen entrance, and I don't know where the hell Hunter is. He better be here or else I will be alone.

 

It was 11a.m. on the dot, and Chris answered the door to a woman who was about a decade older than Shawn, but looked a decade younger, and wore Ellen Degeneres's wardrobe and hairstyle. “Hi,” she spoke in a Chicagoan accent like Teresa's but huskier. “I'm Dr. Cynthia Marshall. You must be Chris Jericho?”

 

“Yes,” he responded, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you as well. Call me Dr. Cynthia. Uh, where should we take this?”

“There's a gazebo outside, I'll show you.” Chris knew that Hunter didn't show for his anger management session, which proved to him that the Cerebral Assassin couldn't care less of changing. The Sexy Beast took it seriously, and Hunter didn't. That caused Shawn to drive up to the hotel in Skokie where Hunter stayed and knocked on his door.

 

“Welcome to mi casa!” Hunter exclaimed as Shawn went inside with a disappointed look on his face.

 

“Hunter, why didn't you go to your anger management session?” he asked him.

 

“ 'Cause, man. I was putting a lot of deep thought into everything. Jericho's fake. He really is. He's doing this just so later on, he could come back and attack me. Then we will go at it again.”

 

Back at the house…

 

“There's a lot of conflict going on,” Dr. Cynthia said to Chris. “From what I understand.”

 

“Well, the problem is,” he explained, “Last week, that night before, I went to a bar, and I don't remember what happened after. One of my roommates had to tell me that I've fought with another one of my roommates in the street outside of the house, and when I came back inside, I attacked another roommate and trashed the house. I wouldn't say that I have a drinking problem. It has happened before I moved in, and it's every time I get so angry that I end up hurting someone for no reason, and it makes me feel better. Then, I get tired and I drink to bottle up my emotions until they fly out, and I don't even remember it the next day or in an hour. It's a never-ending cycle when it comes to me getting angry. I don't know how to control it without self-medicating with alcohol, and if I do get angry, how do I without getting physical?”

 

“I'm glad that you're admitting it, because most rageaholics don't even know that alcohol or drugs can, I always say, `Add fuel to the fire.' I have people that come in my office deny that they self-medicate with alcohol and drugs, and in some cases I've witness, people denying that they committed promiscuous sexual behavior. If you continue to let that anger go where everyone is prone to witness it first-hand or prone to becoming seriously injured, Chris, then you have lost. But here is what I believe you would gain. I believe that you would gain as a human. It's about you. It's not about them. You would look back on this someday. And what you could gain from it is that you can be able to gain control over yourself.”

 

At Hunter's hotel room in Skokie…

 

“So what, Shawn?” the Game said to his fellow DX member. “I mean, is this shrink going to work for Chris? You honestly think—

 

“Hunter, you even said that he wasn't a bad person!” he exclaimed.

 

“Yeah, he has a great heart, but that doesn't mean—`cause if you guys are fighting, and I walk in, and he's not gonna try and blow up on me, I mean, are you kidding me? I've had a positive mentally on this throughout this time, for sure. I've made amends with this man. All this things that…I thought Jericho's looked past the problem and not come at me like that. Then, you know, I've started thinking, `Why do I need anger management?' I was just defending myself. I'm not a sociopath like him. I don't go and pick on people, and attack on people when I'm that wasted. I'm not the one who gets the cops stopping by at the house because I'm trashing the house or I've cursed out certain people, or I'm yelling so loud the neighbors could hear what's going on because I'm having a bad day or someone ticked me off.”

 

Two hours later, Hunter and Shawn returned to the house, and being that the Cerebral Assassin did not show up for the anger management session, the house had no choice but to vote on whether or not he should stay in the house. Hunter knew that he wanted to stay, and he was totally preparing himself for the outcome that he might get. Obviously, Randy and Shawn are going to vote for him to stay, and the Street Urchins are not going to have it. As Chris noticed him entering through the kitchen, he got filled up with rage. But, he didn't bother to look at him after he strolled off into his and Randy's bedroom. He didn't care if they lived in the house and they never speak again. For now, Hunter was invisible to the shorthaired blond Canuck. In the bedroom, Hunter gave the Legend Killer a hug and set his luggage by his bed. “Dude,” he told him, “I gotta have a meeting with everyone, and it's up to you guys that I stay.”

 

“Well, I want you to stay, man,” he responded.

 

“Yeah, but, your votes don't mean shit unless I get one of those bastards.”

 

Shawn peered up at the Game from his bible and asked, “Well, why he gets to save you?”

” `Cause I didn't go to the session.” Hunter scratched the back of his neck.

 

“Well,” Randy suggested. “Can you at least lie, and tell them, `I'm in a better place, now'?”

 

“Yeah, that's the plan.”

 

“Tell them that you've cooled off and just lie about it.”

 

“Yeah, that's the plan.”

 

In the kitchen, the Street Urchins grumbled on deciding Hunter's fate in the house. “He need to be somewhere else another day,” said Chavo. “He can't be here. He just can't.”

 

Outside by the gazebo…

 

“There's a hella bad vibe going on inside,” said Hunter as he and Shawn and Randy hung out. “I'm telling you guys right now—

 

“They're not gonna vote for you to stay, Hunter!” said Shawn. “Even I know that.”

 

“I've been alive for 38 years going on 39—I'll admit that I have managed to screw up everything in my entire life. Everything that went wrong was my fault. This was not my fault.”

 

“I know, man. That's why it's messed up!”

 

“I'm gonna miss you guys!”

 

“I'm gonna miss you, too,” said Randy.

 

“I'm gonna miss you guys when I'm gone suspended. I'll still talk to you, for sure.”

 

“Well,” Shawn rolled his eyes and said. “I'm not going to no meeting, just so y'all know. I'm not going to no stupid meeting! This is not fair!”

 

He got up and yelled and screamed, causing Hunter and Randy to try and calm him down. “No!” the Heartbreak Kid yelled as he threw a wooden foldable chair across the gazebo. “I'm pissed!”

 

“Okay, okay!” said Hunter as he managed to wrap his arms around his DX buddy's neck. “I love you, you know that.”

 

“No! This is not fair! I'm not going to the meeting!”

 

“Hey, come for me, Shawn. Because I'm leaving.”

 

“I don't care! I'm not going to no meeting!”

 

“This is what it is, man. I'm telling you. Like, this is me telling you guys that this is how it is. Let's put it all on the table.”

 

They went back into the house, and HBK was still seething. This is stupid, he thought. It's worn out, honestly. I swear to y'all. I'm serious about that. We're having a house meeting, and there's going to be scoffs and rolling of the eyes. Obviously, nothing will ever get solved.

 

In the living room, the Party Animals and Shawn joined the Street Urchins. “So,” Hunter explained his actions, “I didn't show up at the anger management meeting. I really thought that I didn't deserve to get punished for something that I didn't do that was wrong. So, I didn't believe that I needed to go seek anger management. There. But I got a chance to sit down and think about some of things that maybe I could use anger management for. I really did think it through.”

 

From what he noticed out of the expressions from Chavo and Adam, the Cerebral Assassin could tell it in his mind that a drop of a pin couldn't changed their minds. “Well,” said Chris, “I didn't think that I needed anger management as well. But you know what, Hunter? Those were the rules that Vince made when he came over last week, and I abided by those rules that he made because I appreciate living in this house.”

 

“And you're absolutely right, Jericho. It's something that I've should've done. But what can I say? Nobody's perfect. I'm human just like everyone else. Yeah, I need to go to some anger management and see what that's gonna do.”

 

“I don't think you really want it, Triple H,” said Adam, scowling away and not believing a word that the Game had to say.

 

“Me too,” Chavo agreed. “I feel like that you don't deserve to have a second chance, and you're just sitting here playing it up for us.”

 

“No, man,” said Hunter. “I have some issues that I need to take care of—

 

“No, this is how it is. You're just saying that crap just to smooth things over, just to make it nice.” Chavo believed that by the look of his face, Hunter was full of shit, and he didn't mean everything he said all the time.

 

“I have a question, though,” said Adam. “If the roles were reversed, and you guys had to vote and say, `Hey, should we keep Chris here or should we let him go?'”

 

“As much as I have mixed feelings about Jericho right now,” blurted Hunter. “I would not wanna have this opportunity taken away from him. Let me explain why. If Jericho leaves suspended, what has he learned? Nothing.”

 

“Also, we don't like the fact when we just—when we ask you something, you blatantly lie to our faces.”

 

“What? What'd I do?”

 

“Like Shawn. When he tore up Chris's picture, this is the quote that we heard from you and Randy, `No, don't tell him. If you do, it's on.' Did you tell him that, Hunter?”

 

“Did you threaten him?” Chavo asked the Game.

 

“No!” he exclaimed. “I didn't fucking say that! I would not threaten Shawn, and nor would I ever let anything happen to him if I had saw that picture. Okay, I need to know what everyone thinks.”

 

“Obviously,” Adam rolled his eyes and pointed to Randy and Shawn. “Yes, and yes, and you just need our three votes.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Could we talk about it first?” said Chavo. “Because I would love to talk about it—With just Edge and Chris.”

 

“Okay,” Randy said. “We'll come back in fifteen minutes.”

 

“Fine by me,” said Hunter.

 

As the Party Animals and Shawn headed outside, Chris shook his head. Hunter didn't have a chance, especially with Chavo, Adam, and himself. All three Urchins weren't going to think twice about sending the 12-time champion home. Sayonara, Triple H, the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla thought. I'll see you in the ring.

 

Will the Street Urchins vote for Hunter to stay in the Bad Guys house or will they vote to pay for his plane ticket home?

 

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED…