WWE Fan Fiction ❯ The Bad Guys Club ❯ Chapter 14

Author's Note: The content can be PG-13ish, but I rated it for Mature Audiences because there's slash and smut. I don't own anyone or anything, just Teresa and Annette. My friend Pearl 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.

 

Part of this chapter is dedicated to Four Tops lead singer Levi Stubbs (June 6, 1936 - October 17, 2008).

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, Hunter climbed up out of bed and found Chavo and Adam in the large closet looking for their shoes. He pulled them aside and read them the email he sent to Pearl's address the night before. At first the two Urchins were laughing at the email, but the more the Game bragged on about it, the more annoyed they became. Hunter's email to our bosses is inappropriate and getting out of hand, thought Chavo. Where the hell do you get off, Hunter? Why do you have a problem with it? You didn't even do anything for the last party.

 

Later that night, Hunter, Randy, and one of Hunter's hot female friends named Annette (A Scottish-Irish American with red hair and green eyes) went to the bar in Wrigleyville, next door to the ballpark on the corner of Addison and Clark. They went to the back and found Teresa sitting alone, and rolled her eyes at Randy. “You remember Teresa,” the Game turned to his female friend, “right, Annette?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” chirped the redhead.

 

Randy came back with a couple of beers for Hunter and Annette, and a couple of glasses of water for him (he was cutting down on the drinking after lashing out the other week) and Teresa. Hunter decided to pull out his resignation email and read it aloud to everyone repeatedly, receiving a few loud giggles from Annette. She also laughed at how the Cerebral Assassin constantly made fun of Pearl's southern accent and Ken's leadership skills and his famous yell. The Legend Killer couldn't help but to find Annette attractive and more laid-back and rebellious than the biracial blonde sitting next to him that was once his mistress. Still, Randy wanted to talk to Teresa just to piss her off or to have her piss him off. “So, talk to me,” he said to her.

 

“Well,” she sardonically explained, not even touching the glass of water the Legend Killer had given her, nor the fact that she didn't really gave a damn about his charms anymore, “I have this fucking stack of work piled up on my fucking desk that I have to fucking do, which is really fucking exciting, and that I'm fucking looking forward to it. Oh, boy.”

 

Teresa is being a boring bitch, Randy thought. No wonder I like her when I'm drunk. She's too clingy and sarcastic. What else did she want me to do, beat her? Yeah, I think she's more of a whining, masochistic bitch.

 

Once they got outside of the bar a few hours later, Hunter continued reading the blog to Randy and the girls. Randy drove everyone back to the house, and he, Annette, and Hunter hung out in the kitchen sharing a bottle of Bailey's Irish Crème with coffee in it. “Give me some,” he said to the Game.

 

Hunter poured some into a glass, and when he was about to pour it to half-full, Randy stopped him, then took a sip. “He's a drunk,” Hunter said to Annette, which made Teresa roll her eyes and head to the Legend Killer and the Game's room.

 

“You wait until it's like four in the fucking morning,” the biracial blonde complained to the new fish in the house, the Animal, Dave Batista while lying on Randy's bed about her experiences hanging out in the Bad Guys Club. “That's when hell breaks loose. I fucking wake up and I go to work looking like shit because every fucking night I sleep here, craziness breaks out all the time. All the fucking time. You'll see. You said you've been locked up? Welcome home.”

 

“Welcome home, me,” Dave responded as he smiled at her and went off someplace.

 

“I am not fucking kidding.”

 

Outside, Randy, Hunter, and Annette hung out, drinking their shots of Bailey's, but Randy wanted to get trashed, and so did Annette. The redhead asked the Legend Killer to soft talk Teresa into buying booze for them, and so he did. “Hey,” he asked the biracial blonde in his room and on his bed, “Hunter, Annette, and I wanted to see if you can go out and make a beer run. Could you?”

 

“Hell, no!” she retorted.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don't feel like it.”

 

“Yeah, but you're the one who's sober, Teresa.”

 

“Well, poor you three, then.”

 

The Legend Killer batted his blue eyes at her. “Pretty please with sugar on top?”

 

“No!” The biracial blonde let out a scoff.

 

Suddenly, Randy pushed her of his and Hunter's room and yelled, “Fucking twat!”

 

“Guess that didn't work out at all,” Teresa sarcastically retorted as she put on her coat, grabbed her belongings and left.

 

“What?!” he yelled out.

 

“That stupid little plan.”

 

Teresa's throwing a little temper tantrum, Randy thought. Whatever. Annette's cool and less drama, and she's hot, and I totally want to get into that.

 

Two hours later, Annette climbed into the Legend Killer's bed, drunk and ready to call it a night, and they made out under the covers as Hunter snored in his bed. “You dirty bitch,” he mumbled into the redhead's ear.

 

“Look who's talking,” she replied, blowing a hickey on his neck.

 

The next morning, the Urchins and Shawn were hanging out in the kitchen having a random conversation. Chris was on the computer and Shawn was sitting at the counter eating a salmon-flavored cream-cheese bagel, smacking his lips away. The two Urchins Adam and Chavo grabbed a muffin, then joined their leader in watching Batista swimming a couple of laps outside at the pool. They were amazed by the Animal for he had just arrived to the Bad Guys Club for his compulsive eating, and already he's making himself at home in the pool. “Hey, Dave!” Chris yelled for him from the kitchen, but the D.C native was still swimming away. “Here, fishy, fishy, fishy! PPPUUURRRROOOWWW!!”

 

Shawn turned to the pool, rolled his eyes, and quipped while smacking his bagel in his mouth, “Anyone can swim, Jericho.”

 

The shorthaired Canadian scoffed and turned to the Heartbreak Kid smacking his lips away. “So says the man with the lack of table manners. Geez, Shawn, what are you, 93? Did you leave your dentures in your room? All morning, you've been sitting here chewing that bagel like a cow telling me, `Anyone can swim, Jericho'.”

 

“I don't care,” said Chavo. “But Batista…I don't want him, man. He's like a bug. Too much headache. I mean, who gets sent here for being a sore loser at an eating contest? J.R.'s Barbecue is good, man! I'll steal all that in a minute!”

 

Adam let out a big laugh and said, “Please, Chavo. J.R. will kick your ass if he finds out you did it. He knows how the Guerreros play.”

 

“He knows all about everyone,” said Shawn.

 

“Thank you, Shawn!”

 

“How do you know?” Chris's blue eyes glowed of mischief.

 

“I know.” Shawn smiled. “I've been in the company more than you three have.”

 

“But Dave's outside still swimming away in the pool outside, and you're sitting here with wisdom written all over your forehead. Since you think that everyone can swim in this house, why don't you start by proving the Animal outside who's boss with your gums and your floatation device that your smacking your lips on, Bessie? Hmmm?”

 

“I can't. I might die.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because with Big Dave's weight, there wouldn't be any water left. Who's the cow, now?”

 

Everyone laughed at Shawn's comment while Shawn and Chris exchanged tongues. Meanwhile, a nude Randy got up and grabbed his boxers off the floor by his bed. He was hung over, and was surprised to see Annette asleep in his bed, unaware that they had sex last night. What the hell, man?! he thought to himself. I fucked this chick last night? Normally, I would send them packing, but I was so trashed! But she was hot! I don't know who's got it in bed: Teresa or Annette. Oh, well.

 

While everyone got ready for the meeting with Ken and Pearl, the Animal called his teenage daughter Athena on the phone. “So, are you fighting with everyone like you do in the ring?” she asked him.

 

“No,” he replied, “and as much as I hate all of them, I can't beat them up. I'll get kicked out of the house if I do. But they're a lot of things.”

 

“Good or bad?”

 

“Both. I'm living with Chris Jericho and Edge. These Canadians don't play. Athena, when you go to school and you get mean girls like them, watch your back and your front. Because here, it's the same thing: They'll trash talk behind your back and to your face. I just stayed here for two days now, and I have no idea what I've gotten myself into.”

 

“Well, don't let them get to you, then.”

 

“Oh, I won't. You know me. Save it for the ring. I'll talk to you later.”

 

“Bye, Dad.”

 

At a small hamburger joint near the gay neighborhood called Boystown, Hunter, Shawn, Randy, and Batista hung out outside discussing how the Game wasn't going to put up with power trips any longer. It was his life, and he believed that they wanted to live his life the way they see fit. He was the 12-time champion, and he felt that he has gotten away with everything in the house just because he was married to the boss's daughter. “Yeah,” he said. “I want to work, I'm gonna work. I'm not gonna deal with that, and if I am going to stay in a job like that…I'm sorry. Can't do it.”

 

“Well,” Batista placed his two cents in it, “here's what I see. I thought that you had to do the Kennedy job to stay in the house. Now, you're like, you're quitting. So that means you can't stay in the house, right?”

 

“Dave, honestly, you just came in the house for two days, and you're asking me that? I told you, I don't give a fuck! I just wrote my two bosses a letter, and I have the balls to go meet with him for lunch. Who does that? I do! Know why? Because I am the Game, the King of Kings, and I am that damn good! The way Pearl controls Kennedy and the whole power trip with the both of them is bullshit! I will not go for that. I will not allow anyone to boss me around and talk to me like that. If Vince wants to make me leave `cause of that, I'll be more than likely to leave with my head up high.”

 

Inside of the joint, the Street Urchins, Pearl, and Ken discussed the upcoming Bollywood party. Chris noticed Pearl's distressful expression, and was worried if the party they were planning didn't suit her. As the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla began to approach her across the table, Ken announced, “So Triple H quit as you may or may not know.”

 

“Yeah, we heard about it,” said Adam as Chris's blue eyes widened in shock.

 

“So, who's the new guy?”

 

“Batista. So, he'll be taking his place?”

 

“Yup.”

 

As they headed into the hamburger joint, nervousness entered Hunter's body as he thought, I'm getting a major vibe from it. Whatever. I want to tell my bosses that they suck ass! And I quit, and I don't care.

 

“Batista!” Ken stood up to shake the Animal's hand.

 

“Hello,” Pearl introduced herself. “I'm Pearl. You must be Dave Batista.”

 

“Yeah,” said Batista, shaking her hand as they all sat down. “Nice to meet you.”

 

The two bosses turned to Hunter sitting next to Randy across from everyone. “Hello, Hunter,” Ken greeted the Game.

 

“I quit,” he responded.

 

“We know,” Pearl scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. “You already sent me an email about it.”

 

“And I have to tell you, there are numerous reasons why I quit.”

 

Chris gave him a smirk, then turned to Pearl's annoyed expression, for the Southerner wanted to literally beat the crap out of him for whatever he said to her in that email. “Tell me,” she said to the Cerebral Assassin.

 

“The décor,” he explained. “You don't need all of that to throw a party.”

 

“So you're fucking quitting over fucking streamers and blown-up condoms in the fucking air?” Pearl was sarcastic and hostile in her tone of voice.

 

Ken tried to hold his partner back. “Pearl, let me handle this.”

 

“No!” she growled, then turned to Hunter. “Tell me more!”

 

“Okay,” said Hunter. “It's not that at all. It's your stupid dyke friends and those stupid Goth people you invited with no personality. Plus, the whole pay being docked thing—

 

“That's because you didn't fucking bother to show up to the last couple of meetings. And where the fuck you get off calling my friends that? Obviously, you enjoyed that shit at the last motherfucking party. You wanted to stick your fucking cock in that. I docked your motherfucking pay because you were two hours late, and you have the nerve to insult my openly lesbian friends who worked so goddamn hard to offer their house just so everyone could have a blast. But no, you decide to write an email insulting me, calling me a Goth Barbie bitch, and Emo person who cut themselves. Who the fuck you think you are? If I'm a Goth, then you're a fucking redneck trailer trash motherfucker spoiled punk who can't help sticking your fucking cock between your wife's nasty ass legs to get a title shot.”

 

“Whatever you say, lady. That's crazy. Vince wouldn't dare to do that. Dock my pay. He wouldn't go and take a power trip!”

 

Everyone, including Ken, had their jaws dropped at how Hunter tried to compare Pearl to Vince. And, Pearl and Hunter were at it, starting a shouting match, with Pearl winning. Adam stared at Hunter like he was the lowest scum of the earth. Pearl is not Vince, okay? he thought. Neither is Ken, and he's trying so damn hard to be professional and not cuss out this pathetic dog like Pearl is doing. Hunter is embarrassing himself and making himself look like a goddamn fool.

 

“I'm done with you, lady,” Hunter said, smiling.

 

“Well, I'm not done!” said Pearl, still pissed off about the email, and still was on a roll treating him. “Matter of fact, since you bitched about how the last party sucked, and since I'm one of the people throwing the party, Ken and I will do our best to make the next one kick ass now that you're quitting. The last party sucked goat's balls because of you, anyway. So, I rather have you quit than work in angst. So, we gotta handle some business here, and I'll see your dumb ass in Connecticut.”

 

“Did you just fire me?”

 

“Whoa, there, now!” Pearl stood up. “Don't fucking come at me like that! I didn't fire you! You said that you quit! Please, just me a favor and just get the fuck out of my face before I stick my boot so far up your fucking ass! Why don't you let us do our meeting and go back to where the fuck you came from!”

 

“Whoa, excuse me!”

 

“No, there's no excuse me! I told you what you had to do, and you shit on it like you do to everyone!”

 

“Okay, you know what, Pearl? You don't tell me what to do, number one! I cannot allow you to tell me what to do!”

 

“I'm your boss, well, I was your boss! So, yeah, when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it!”

 

“Whatever, you're just fucking Ken so you can have the fucking job!”

 

“Really?” Pearl scowled at him in sarcasm. “Anything else, fuckface?”

 

“Yeah, I wipe my ass with this money!” Hunter knocked a water glass over and stormed out of the joint. “$500?! Are you fucking kidding me! I fucking hate you, wannabe metalhead cunt!”

 

“And you're a fucking child!” Pearl yelled from behind. “Grow the fuck up, Hunter! Go home to your ugly wife and your fucked up kids! You're a fucking douchebag twatzilla! You will never, ever, stoop to my level! Do you hear me?!”

 

Chavo smiled at the fact that Hunter was officially kicked out of the Bad Guys Club. Dumbass! he thought. Doesn't he know that one of the rules of the Bad Guys Club was that if you quit or get fired from the job that you were given, you will be sent home? Oh, my god. Was it that simple to get rid of this son of a bitch?

 

Chris turned to Pearl with concern on his face. “You all right?” he asked her.

 

“Yeah, I am,” she responded. “Actually, I feel good!”

 

“Glad you told him off. Normally, I'm rude at times, but I will never pull that stunt like Hunter did just now, and I apologize for that.”

 

“Oh, don't be. He had it coming once he sent that fucking nasty ass email. But I do appreciate you being concerned for me.”

 

As the Bad Guys continued with the meeting, Chris thought to himself, I'll see you in the ring, Triple H. Good riddance, you stupid bastard because you honestly do not belong here.

 

As Hunter headed to the bus stop, he realized that he had made a worst enemy out of himself, knowing that he couldn't be on the top all the time every time he made illogical decisions such as the resignation email which led to a bout with Pearl, the recipient of the email. Well, he thought to himself as he got on the bus, we can't change that, can we?

 

Later that night, the King of Kings was packing up his belongings. He had about four or five suitcases, and they were already stuffed with his clothes and shoes, and boots. He had one more suitcase he had to pack, and with Shawn and Randy watching him pack, there was no way he was getting that in the van. Hunter was good at standing up for what was right, but everyone thought he overdid it, and gotten away with it being that he was Vince's son-in-law. He was ready to leave, ready for it. As Hunter took the last luggage outside, the two Urchins, Chris and Chavo watched him leave from the kitchen. They both smirked at each other, then shook their heads in disappointment. They believed Hunter was going to stay and change, but in a way, Chris wanted him kicked out of the house, and that was good as justice as it may be. “I knew he was going to send himself home,” he told Chavo.

 

“Yeah, I'm glad that piece of shit got kicked out!” he agreed. “What a dumbass, and Pearl treated his ass.”

 

“This is the Bad Guys Club.”

 

“You're right, Chris. It's not the Assholes Club. Triple H's an asshole.”

 

Outside at the front door, Randy finally pushed the last suitcase into the van. “Randy, you're good!” said Hunter.

 

Shawn looked into the house and saw Adam walking towards the living room inside to read a book. “They didn't say goodbye to you?” he asked the Game.

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I don't like them.” Hunter and Batista got into the van. “It's great that we got along at the last minute. At least I'm not leaving because of a fight. Those damn Urchins should be happy that I'm leaving! I'm not gonna miss them, so why am I gonna act like I'm gonna miss them? I'll see you!”

 

“See you, Hunter!” Shawn said. “I can't believe you don't care.”

 

As Hunter and Batista drove off to O'Hare International, a flow of thoughts entered Hunter's mind. Bad guys hate rules and authority. They hate to be controlled. They're a lot of things that people are not. I want to sleep in my bed with my wife and not have to wake up to a house with six other men that you've been in the ring with screaming. I want to walk around naked and not have to worry about anyone telling me otherwise. I think now, when I get back home, I am officially going to put my boxers, t-shirts, socks, and sneakers in the fridge. I just grew so accustomed to that. My spirits will carry in that house. I will always be talked about, good or bad, because I'm the King of Kings. And if you're not down with that, I got two words for you.

 

 

***************************************************************** **********************************************

 

 

Two months later, Shawn and the Street Urchins were slowly getting along with each other. Now that Hunter was out of the house, the Urchins didn't mind playing around with the other three guys, but the problem was that Randy didn't trust them after all the taunting they did to him, while Chris didn't trust Shawn due to their long history (But he could tolerate him). Nonetheless, the Urchins hung out with the Heartbreak Kid, and Chavo felt safe about it, and he had never felt so happy in his life. One night, the Urchins were bored in their rooms, so they went to the kitchen where Shawn was and dared him to do a dance, in which he responded by doing the funky chicken, the cha-cha slide, the electric slide, the Mississippi slide, the mashed potato, the shopping cart, driving a car, the dip, the tootsie roll, and to make Chris fall to the floor laughing, Shawn went on the floor shaking his ass like one of those big booty girls in the rap videos. Shawn didn't care that the Urchins were laughing hysterically at his awkward dance moves, but he was surprised that everyone was getting along in the house. It was much more playful than with all the pent up tension. “Shawn!” Chavo cried at him on the floor looking like a male stripper. “Are you crazy?”

 

“Let's teach him something,” Chris said as he and the two Urchins went into doo-wop position as they turned to a scene from the movie Little Shop of Horrors on YouTube on the computer, and began singing.

 

Little shop, little shoppa horrors

Little shop, little shoppa terror

Call a cop, little shoppa horrors

No, oh, oh, no-oh

 

“Chris, don't start!” cried Batista from his room.

 

Little shop, little shoppa horrors

Bop sh'bop, little shoppa terror

Watch `em drop, little shoppa horrors

No, oh, oh, no-oh

 

“NO!!” cried Shawn as the Street Urchins danced like the girls, snapping their fingers.

 

Shing-a-ling

What a creepy thing to be happening

Look out!

Look out!

Look out!

 

Look out!

 

Shang-a-lang

Feel the strum and drang in the ai-irr

 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

 

Sha-la-la

Stop right where you are

 

Don't you move a thing

You better

 

You better

Telling you, you better

Tell your mama something's gonna get her

She better, everybody better beware

 

Ohhh, here it comes, baby

Tell those bums, baby

Oh, oh, no-oh

 

Ohhh!

Ohhh!

Ohhh!

 

Hit the dirt, baby

Red alert, baby

Oh, oh, no

Oh, oh, no-oh

 

They all stepped in rhythm as if they were the legendary Four Tops grooving to the music.

 

Alley oop

Haul it off the stoop

Child, I'm warning you-ooh

 

Look out!

Look out!

Look out!

Look out!

 

Run away

Child, you gonna pay

If you fai-il

 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

 

Look around

Something's coming down

Down the street for you

 

You betcha

You betcha

Betcha your butt

You betcha

 

“Shut up over there!” Randy yelled from his room.

 

Best believe it

Something's come to getcha

You betcha

You better watch your back and your tai-il

 

Comma, comma, comma, comma

 

Little shop, little shoppa horrors

Bop sh'bop, you'll never stop the terror

Little shop, little shoppa horrors

No, oh, oh, no

Oh, oh, no

Oh, ohh, no-ohh, ooh

 

Shawn was laughing so hard after that, while Batista went into the kitchen to get some water rolling his eyes at the fun the Urchins and the Heartbreak Kid were having. He joined Randy in the closet trying on a pair of shoes. “Dude,” Randy said to him. “Which ones?”

 

“I dunno,” he replied. “The black shoes?”

 

They got their keys and headed to the limo outside of the house to a club downtown. They found their VIP seats in the balcony with bottles of champagne. But, there was one thing missing: Hot chicks to party with. So they went outside and found two women, a Latina and a black woman standing out on their smoke time. The former two members of Evolution danced and partied with the two chicks on the dance floor, and they also got phone numbers. For Randy, the combination of Hunter getting kicked out of the house two months ago and Batista arriving that two months ago had made him feel a lot better. He had more of a good time with the Animal (Even when they were in Evolution) and even had him sleep in Hunter's old bed just to be safe from the Urchins and Shawn (Especially from Shawn), like a real good time. Meanwhile, back at the house, Adam had bought some Nad's wax strips that he had never tried on his chest and face before when he waxes, so he decided to try them on Chris.

 

RRRRIIIIPPPP!!

 

“OOOWWW!!!” the Ayatollah of Rock `N Rolla screamed holding his chest. `What the fuck are you trying to do here?!”

 

“Did you get them?” Chavo asked the Rated R Superstar.

 

“No,” he replied. “It was because Jericho couldn't stop squirming.”

 

Chris rubbed his chest. “I'm pressing charges!” he cried. “That's considered assault with a weapon.”

 

“Let me try again, and Chavo, you hold him.” Adam pulled another strip from the box and placed it on Chris's midsection.

 

“Please don't do this!” begged Chris as Chavo held him from under his arms.

 

“It's not gonna hurt,” said Chavo.

 

“Chris, calm down,” said Adam.

 

Suddenly…

 

RRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!

 

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” screamed Chris.

 

“You big baby!” Adam quipped. “I didn't even hurt you! See, it gets all the ingrown ones and dead skin.”

 

“And you didn't do it on yourself because?”

 

RRRRRRIIIIPPPPPPPPP!!!

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!!” Chris shoved Adam onto his bed. “KNOCK IT OFF!!!”

 

When they got back to the house slightly drunk, Randy and Batista danced into the kitchen. Batista decided to call it a night, so he told Randy goodnight, got on some comfy PJ's, and headed off to his new bed next to Randy's. On the other hand, Randy went into the living room where Shawn was sleeping and told him, “I had a great time with Dave tonight. I love him, man.”

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

“Because, uh, well, you know I love you and respect you, man. Let me tell you, we wouldn't be in the same circle had I never known you, but Batista, if he lived around me, I would know him. He's cool, man.”

 

Two months ago, Batista arrived at the Bad Guys Club house as Hunter was leaving, and to Shawn, Randy felt like he was the wingman before the Animal came, and now it was the opposite. Now, the Heartbreak Kid was beginning to feel a little left out. Now that Hunter was finally gone, Randy felt that he could go back to that comfortable spot, and that was being the alpha male. He was pompous, a discriminatorily bastard, he was a snob, and he was damn proud of it.

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED…