Yes, I'm back with another full length fan fiction, hopefully you'll find it amusing.
Disclaimer: Angel does not own any of the WWE superstars in this work of fiction. The PSC members own themselves. This never happened... Although I don't have any control over the other PSC members. Original characters also belong to themselves as I know them.
Chris Jericho sat snoring in a chair in Stephanie McMahon's office. At first he had been quiet, so quiet in fact that Stephanie thought that he had died. That wasn't the case. She poked him with her finger and his head changed position and he had started making the ear aching sound. She had tried everything to wake him up but nothing seemed to work.
Now, she sat with her hands over her ears begging Chris to wake from his slumber. Why he had to fall asleep in her office was a mystery. Maybe he just wanted to get on my nerves, Stephanie thought to herself as she stared at the blond.
Chris snorted and scratched his nose, his head fell onto his chest. He was silent. Stephanie took her hands away from her ears and smiled to herself. She wouldn't need headache pills after all.
Stephanie turned to her laptop and began typing. She tried to suppress a laugh as Chris began talking in his sleep, without warning Chris began to yell.
"AVAST YE MATEY'S!"
Stephanie's chair tipped back, causing her to fall backwards. She grabbed the desk to haul herself from the ground, glasses askew. Chris was standing with his arm out stretched as if he were holding a sword.
"Jesus Christ! He's a pirate now?!" Stephanie said throwing her glasses on her desk. "Even when he's asleep he's a nuisance."
The door opened and Triple H walked inside. He chuckled at Chris before walking to his wife's desk.
"What's up with him?" Triple H grinned, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.
"I don't know. He's sleep talking and pretending to be a pirate," Stephanie grumbled.
"Hmm... I thought that was Paul Burchill's thing?"
Stephanie looked at her husband. "What do you want, Paul?"
Triple H thought for a second before answering. "Oh yeah! Glen said that there's something going down."
"He said he felt it in his waters," Triple H shrugged. "I don't know. But there is a weird feeling backstage."
Stephanie rubbed her forehead, things were getting too childish backstage. Now it seemed that her husband was joining in.
She sighed. "I'll go and check on him as soon as I've dealt with Chris..."
"And just how do you deal with a sleeping... Err... Pirate?" Triple H asked with raised eyebrows.
Chris snorted again and both Stephanie and Triple H stared at him.
"Maybe we could play along with him!" Triple H exclaimed, with a clap of his hands.
Grumbling, Chris opened his eyes.
"Aha!" He said turning quickly and running out of the room.
Stephanie sighed again. "If you want to go and play, I'm not stopping you."
Triple H leant over the desk and kissed his wife on the cheek, then swiftly followed Chris.
Kane was pacing in his locker room, every now and again he would stop before shaking his head and continuing with his pacing. Randy was watching from the sofa, he was unsure of why the big man had become so worried. It was most unlike Kane, he was usually tearing through the corridors wreaking havoc with Jericho. But now, seeing Kane so troubled had unsettled Randy.
"Glen, will you please tell me what the problem is?" Randy asked, finally getting to his feet and stopping the big man in his tracks.
"I don't know, Randy. I really don't know," Kane replied. "I just know there's something wrong... it just doesn't feel right."
"The atmosphere," Kane said looking around him.
"Yeah, that would be Global Warming... It sucks," Randy said turning back to the sofa and flopping down onto it.
"Not the Earth's atmosphere, you plonker!" Kane said gruffly. "The atmosphere here in this building... It's tense."
Randy raised his eyebrows. "When have you ever used the word 'plonker'?"
"I used it just now, didn't I?!"
Kane was definitely stressed; there was no doubt about it. Randy watched as the big man resumed his pacing.
"If there is something that's not right... How do we make it right?" Randy asked sitting up straighter.
Kane stopped and turned to him. "We can't let it get to us."
"'Can't let it-'" Randy spluttered. "Glen, you're letting it get to you."
Kane sighed. "I know, I know. It's so hard to focus on anything else. Something is going to happen, I'm just not sure what."
At this Randy sat back. He was sure that if Kane felt this strongly about the situation then Randy himself should also be a bit worried. As much as Kane acted like a crazy person most of the time, he did have a good sense for bad things happening.
If Kane was pulling another prank Stephanie would be forced to suspend him, and she would have no qualms about telling the media exactly why she was suspending him. The last time he had had this 'feeling' she ended up locked in a broom closet for half-an-hour while Kane tried to take Raw over, luckily enough for her Jericho had opened the closet claiming that it was the way into Narnia.
She stopped walking and looked ahead of her, Triple H and Jericho had now made swords out of cardboard boxes and were trying to jab each other with them. Stephanie sighed, there definitely was something wrong with the Raw roster. She was sure that Vickie and Theodore didn't have this trouble with their superstars... Well, maybe with Edge and a few others.
She continued walking past the two duelling superstars and headed for Kane's locker room with cries of "WENCH!" echoing behind her. She shook her head and opened the door to the big mans room and spotted him pacing.
Randy looked up in surprise. "Steph?"
"Paul told me that Glen had some sort of problem," she said monotonously.
Kane stopped and turned to his boss. "Damn right I have a problem, bitch!"
"Excuse me!" Stephanie asked angrily.
"Sorry," Kane replied. "Sorry, I really didn't mean that."
She shook her head. "What's the problem?"
"I have a feeling..."
"Like Martin Luther King had a dream..." Randy replied quietly. Both Kane and Stephanie glared at him.
"Anyway," Kane said. "It's just weird, but it's probably nothing."
"If this is another prank I will suspend you," Stephanie said putting her hands on her hips. She thought that it was better to get that out of the way, to show Kane who his boss was, before he carried on with his story.
"It's not, Steph. I promise you," Kane said, finally sitting down on the bench. "I just have this feeling that something's going to happen tonight, something that's not scripted."
Stephanie looked at the expression on Kane's face and knew that he was troubled, it wasn't very often that she saw 'Big Red' this sullen.
"Like what?" She asked.
"Steph, I really don't know," Kane answered quietly, shaking his head.
Stephanie sat down next to the big man and put a comforting arm around his shoulder. Whatever it was, it was serious and she had to do something about it.
In the corridor, Jericho and Triple H had had now began to duel so violently that their cardboard swords had gone limp. A couple of the superstars were watching them from the doorways of their locker rooms, cheering them both on.
CM Punk closed his door, still chuckling. It was always fun to watch Jericho acting like a child, and to have finally cracked Triple H was nothing short of a miracle, however he knew that Jericho and Triple H would end up in a bitch fight, it always did.
Punk turned around and came face to face with a smiley girl with long, blonde hair. He'd had seen this girl before, he had even spoken to this girl before, how the hell did she get into his locker room. The girl put a walkie-talkie up to her mouth.
"I've got one," she said in a low voice.
Those were the last words that he heard.
Calling all PSC members, for those of you that would like to be featured in this fic I would be most grateful if you would send me a PM or leave a review. Thanks in advance.
Reviews are love!