Disclaimer: We do not own the WWF. Now wasn't that obvious? We're not making money off this
so don't sue.
Pyper: Don't people get tired of reading the disclaimer? I mean, it's not like Vince would actually
start writing and posting up weird stories here like the rest of us. I think he'd be the only one who
wouldn't need a disclaimer.
Azrael: Fascinating analysis, Pyper.
Pyper: Thank you, thank you.
Azrael: *Sighs.* Anyway, we've written something that our very tired minds suddenly came up with
at the spur of the moment. Summer vacation and housework does that to you, I guess.
Pyper: We had fun visualizing all these scenes. We hope you will too!
Azrael: As for the whole ban on the actor fic thing and everything else, screw it. We're here to write
fanfiction, not worry about our limitations. 'Unleash your imagination and free your soul' my ass...
Pyper: *Steps in front of her before she can say anything that would freeze their account.* Well,
here's the fic. Enjoy!
BOARDING
"Welcome on board."
"Right, whatever." Chris Jericho said to the beaming stewardess that greeted him the moment
he stepped into the plane. He looked less that enthusiastic to be taking the WWF plane to their
next show.
"May I help you with that?" the still smiling stewardess offered, pointing to his bag.
He took his hand carry and looked at her. "Sure, here, take this for me." He said, dropping the
bag, that was about half her size and weight, into her arms. He waved his ticket in her face for
her to take it as well. "My seat's 7A. Now come on, hurry up, I want to get settled in as soon as
I can."
"Yes sir. 7A is this way, please." The stewardess said through clenched teeth as she painstakingly
took the ticket from him and started her way down the aisle carrying the bag, Jericho whistling
nonchalantly right behind her.
Matt rolled his eyes as he saw Jericho make his way to his seat. "Man, just our luck to be stuck
with that egotistical has-been for the next three hours."
"Lighten up." Lita said from the seat in front of him. She was kneeling on her seat, her arms
wrapped around the headrest, chin on top of it. She grinned at him. "Just be happy that we're
nowhere near his seat for this trip."
Matt sighed as he looked at her. "Speaking of being near somebody, are you sure you couldn't
persuade Jeff to change seats with you for this flight?"
Lita shook her head. "He didn't want to. Said something about wanting to stick beside his big
brother as often as he could."
Matt groaned. "Brother my ass. We're together with him for almost every second of everyday.
Where is he now?"
Lita looked up and around over the seats. "I think he went to the bathroom. Let's hope he's not
playing with the flush or anything. You know how much he likes those things for some reason."
Matt groaned again.
Somewhere near the back Spike glanced up from where he had been reading the in flight magazine
that had been left at his seat. Beside him sat Kane, and the Big Red Machine looked not the
slightest bit comfortable, sitting frigidly in his seat with his hands clenched to his lap.
"Hey Kane, you okay, man?" Spike asked.
"I'm fine." Kane said, sounding like he didn't mean it in the least.
"Are you sure? You look a little uneasy there."
"I said I'm fine." Kane said in the same type of voice.
"Okay, whatever you say, big guy." Spike said turning back to his magazine, but not being able
to resist shooting him a few worried glances.
At that moment Stone Cold Steve Austin appeared at the entrance. He thoroughly ignored the
stewardess who greeted him at the door and instead made his way to his seat immediately, which
was coincidentally on the other side of Kane. He took no notice of Kane or the runt of the
Dudley litter as he dumped his hand carry to the side of his seat.
"I knew I should have listened to Debra and gone with her on that early flight." Austin practically
growled to himself. He grabbed his bag and opened it revealing; you guessed it, beer. He took
out a six-pack, one of the many, and then shoved his bag in the overhead bin.
"Um, excuse me, sir…" one of the stewardesses had caught his cargo and spoke up, going over
to him.
"What??" Austin snapped. He had been about to sit down and enjoy getting drunk when this
annoying woman had piped up.
"I don't know how you managed to sneak in alcoholic drinks on the plane, sir, but I'm sorry, it
is not allowed." She apologized with her best smile.
"Are you telling me I can't drink my beer?" Austin asked in a low voice.
The stewardess faltered for a bit. "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying."
"Well this is what I say." Austin told her. "Get back over there to the front and greet the other
passengers with that fake plastered smile of yours. Because if I can't go through this freakin'
flight drunk then you're sure as hell not going to like flying with me sober, is that clear??"
The stewardess lost her smile completely. "Yes sir." She squeaked, and backed away hurriedly.
Across the aisle, Booker T shook his head and went back to reading his magazine as well.
In front of him, Edge was looking at Rikishi, who was at the window seat, as the Phat Man
tried to find a decent radio station on the plane channels. Edge cleared his throat. "Hey Rikishi,
can I ask you something?"
"Sure, go ahead brother." Rikishi answered, still absorbed in what he was doing.
"Well, you know that planes have tiny bathrooms, right?"
"Everybody does." Rikishi said. "What about them?"
"Don't take this personally or anything, dude, but how in the hell do you actually go in one of
them when you need to go?" Edge finally asked.
At that Rikishi ultimately looked up. He stared at Edge for a while, then abruptly burst out
laughing, startling Ivory who was in front of them. "Would you believe you're not the first person
to ask me that?"
Edge blinked. "I'm not?"
Rikishi shook his head. Then he leaned closer to tell him. "Personally, I try to hold it in. But
if I really have to go, then I try to shoot it from the doorway as best as I can, if you get what
I mean."
Edge, probably wishing that he hadn't asked, nodded awkwardly and settled back in his seat.
In the front, the pair of stewardesses who stood there greeting the superstars as they entered
were met by the one that had 'escorted' Jericho to his seat. Before they could ask her if she
was all right, somebody stepped into the doorway. All three of them were struck dumb for a
moment as a large figure towered over them.
Undertaker looked down at the trio in disinterest. Presently one of them cleared her throat
and gave a shaky smile. "Hello, sir… welcome aboard. May I show you to your seat?"
Taker was chewing on a piece of tobacco. He spat it to one side and held up his ticket. "13G."
he said.
She took it from him hesitantly. "This way." She said, walking off but glancing behind herself
fearfully every now and then.
From the front, Maven looked up warily over the top of a newspaper he had hurriedly grabbed
from a passing stewardess. When he saw that the Dead Man had gone, he breathed a sigh of
relief.
Taker reached the back of the cabin and looked down in disgust when he saw his apparent
seatmate for the trip. "What is he doing there?" he asked the stewardess.
"I could move…" Brooklyn Brawler said quickly, standing up.
The stewardess took him by the arm. "I'm sorry sir, but unless there is a no show I'm afraid
you'll have to stay here in your original seat." She didn't add that she didn't envy him for it.
Taker snarled out something illegible and dropped into the window seat. Brawler tentatively
slid into the seat beside the Dead Man, as far away as he could manage to be even if he was
sitting next to him.
In the middle, and probably the only group that got death stares from every single wrestler in
the Federation, were the nWo. Kevin Nash was in the middle, pretty much asleep already.
Scott Hall was seated next to him, biting his fingernails. X-Pac was seated on the other side of
Nash, giving Lita malicious grins that were getting on Matt's nerves.
Fortunately that was stopped when someone slipped into the seat beside Lita, blocking X-Pac's
view. Hulk Hogan smiled at Lita. "I believe this is my seat."
Lita grinned back, relieved to be rid of X-Pac. "I was wondering who was coming along to claim
it."
Hogan turned to come face to face with the members of the nWo, his former faction. He
frowned back at the scowling faces of Hall and X-Pac, as Nash was halfway to total zonkness.
Just his luck to be situated near those idiots.
"Does the Rock look like he needs any help??" a loud voice said from the front.
Scotty looked up in amusement as the Rock bellowed down on the hapless young stewardess
that had offered to take his bag from him. Actually, up until that moment he had been snickering
to the side at seeing that Billy Kidman and Tajiri had been seated on either side of Torrie Wilson.
All this despite the fact that he was well aware of Albert seated behind him.
Rock took his seat and immediately groaned. "What the…??"
"Hey, Rocky!" Kurt greeted from the next seat. "Can you believe we're seated together again?
Is this weird or what?"
Rock groaned and wondered who in the hell was messing around with their tickets. This was
the third ride that he had been seated next to Kurt. Somewhere in the WWF office at Greenwich
Connecticut, some of the officials snickered.
Trish Stratus looked at the ticket in her hand, and sighed and shook her head as she caught sight
of the person in the next seat.
Jericho looked up, annoyed. "Is there something you want?" he asked snootily.
"7A?" Trish asked dryly.
"Yeah, and so?"
Trish showed him her ticket. "I'm 7B." she said, not looking too happy about it.
'Great,' Jericho thought as Trish sat down. 'Now I'm seated next to a fluffed-up, airheaded,
narcissistic, blonde Barbie Doll.' Little did he know, Trish was thinking the same thing about him.
Triple H got to his seat and nearly keeled over in shock. "What the hell…? Mick, what're you
doing here?"
Foley looked up from writing his latest project and gave him a gap-toothed grin. "I'm here to
do a little promotion for the company, unknown to Vince, of course." He said. "Not exactly at
the show, but I could use the lift. You seated here?" he pointed to the empty seat beside him.
Triple H checked his ticket, the number of the seat, and then his ticket again. "Yeah." He finally
said lifelessly.
"Well how do you like that." Foley said, still with that grin. "Well don't just stand there, make
yourself comfortable. In fact, I got a little worried there. For a moment I thought I'd have to
be seated next to Al Snow."
"I heard that." Snow's voice came from the seat behind him.
Foley shrugged. "Wasn't able to avoid having me behind me, though."
Triple H sighed in exasperation but chucked his hand carry in the overhead bin and took his seat.
"First it was that weird little guy Spike, and then the crazy, wannabe superhero." Hardcore
Holly was grumbling to his cousin seated in the middle of him and Crash. "Who next, the Tough
Enough rookie??"
"Give me a break, Hardcore." Molly muttered. "Can we just forget about it?"
"And why'd you dye your hair?" Crash asked. "What was wrong with being blonde?"
"Too many of them in the WWF." Molly responded. "And I don't particularly want to be equated
with those airheads."
Hardcore caught Billy and Chuck giggling to each other in the next row. He sighed. "I think I
know what you mean."
By that time Hurricane had swooped into the area and took the seat across the aisle from Crash.
He gave everyone amiable nods before sitting down, acknowledging Molly with frigid politeness.
She hardly turned her head to him at all. Test, in the window seat beside him, rolled his eyes.
The PA system came on. "Everybody please take your seats." A female voice said. "Take off will
commence shortly."
"Not short enough." Rock muttered under his breath as Kurt happily buckled himself in.
There was a slight scramble as the superstars took their seats. William Regal found that he
had been situated in between the APA of all people. Talk about dumb luck. The Godfather
was near the middle of the rows, with two of his hos on either side of him. The door was about
to be closed when a shout came.
"Hold up, we're not in yet!!"
The stewardess called for the door to be opened and two people came in, one with a big smile
on his face. Coachman looked up from his seat. "Mr. Flair?"
"Hello, Coach." Flair greeted. "David and I almost didn't make it here, damned rental car got a
flat tire on the way." He patted his son on the shoulder.
"Uh, Mr. Flair? I think the executive lounges are somewhere on the second level." Coach said.
"I know." Ric said. "But I didn't want to hang around up there, I like it better down here with the
rest of the guys. Besides, up there I'd get a bigger chance of seeing Vince, and I don't want to
hear him whining about how I stole Stone Cold away from him again." He smiled. "Hey, here's
our seats." He said, gesturing to the front row. He and David sat down.
All in all here was the layout for the superstars' seating arrangement for the duration of the plane
ride:
13A-G:
Brock Lesnar, Paul Heyman (aisle), Terri, Raven, crewmember (aisle), Brooklyn Brawler,
Undertaker
12A-G:
Jazz, Booker T (aisle), Stone Cold Steve Austin, Kane, Spike Dudley (aisle), Bubba Ray Dudley,
D-Von Dudley
11A-G:
Rikishi, Edge (aisle), Rob Van Dam, Michael Cole, Diamond Dallas Page (aisle), Perry Saturn,
Tommy Dreamer
10A-G:
Ivory, Goldust (aisle), Ho, Godfather, Ho (aisle), Steve Blackman, Al Snow
9A-G:
Mr. Perfect, Val Venis (aisle), three members of the creative team (aisle), Triple H, Mick
Foley
8A-G:
Jerry Lyn, Justin Credible (aisle), Bradshaw, William Regal, Faarooq (aisle), Jacqueline, Sharmell
Sullivan
7A-G:
Chris Jericho, Trish Stratus (aisle), Big Bossman, Big Show, Bull Buchanon (aisle), Billy Gunn,
Chuck Palumbo
6A-G:
Test, Hurricane Helms (aisle), Crash, Molly Holly, Hardcore Holly (aisle), The Rock, Kurt Angle
5A-G:
Christian, Lance Storm (aisle), three crewmembers (aisle), Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy
4A-G:
two pyro-technicians (aisle), Scott Hall, Kevin Nash, X-Pac (aisle), Hulk Hogan, Lita
3A-G:
Mark Henry, Albert (aisle), three more crewmembers (aisle), Steven Richards, Tazz
2A-G:
Lillian Garcia, Scotty 2 Hotty (aisle), Tajiri, Torrie Wilson, Billy Kidman (aisle), Jonathan
Coachman, Kevin Kelly
1A-G:
Jim Ross, Jerry 'The King' Lawler (aisle), Mave, , D'Lo Brown (aisle), Ric Flair, David Flair
By the time everyone was settled in, the door was closed and the lights in the cabin dimmed.
The plane started to taxi down the runway as an in flight safety video started playing on the
screens.
Kane gripped the arms of his seat. "Think of big, open spaces, think of big, open spaces…" he
began to softly chant to himself, still through clenched teeth. Spike gave him a funny look.
Austin, in the meantime, was already on his third beer.
"This is your captain speaking." A scrambled voice suddenly came on the PA. "Welcome aboard
to all the WWF superstars. Travel time to our destination is approximately three hours and
twenty-seven minutes. More probably if the weather report was true about a certain storm,
hehehe…"
All the wrestlers looked at each other uncomfortably.
"But other than that we'll probably have smooth sailing from here on." Another voice said.
"This is your co-pilot signing off. We hope you'll have a pleasant flight."
The system went off and the cabin was silent. The plane started to pick up speed, even as
Spike grew more alarmed at Kane's anxious mumbling and Rock contemplated on whether
killing Kurt would be beneficial to all. There was a loud rush of wind and the plane's nose tilted
towards the sky.
In a matter of minutes the plane was airborne.
***
Azrael: Can you believe we originally meant for this to be one chapter only? Well, so much for
that thought.
Pyper: The best parts are yet to come, I assure you.
Azrael: Man, I can't believe we actually wrote that thing with Rikishi. That was just so crude.
*Goes off to sit in front of her computer and in effect stare at the screen for hours playing
Bejewled instead of writing the next chapter.*
Pyper: Loved it? Hated it?? Please review! Any flames we will treat as our property and be
subjected to ridicule! And trust us, that's one thing we do best... *Grin.*
so don't sue.
Pyper: Don't people get tired of reading the disclaimer? I mean, it's not like Vince would actually
start writing and posting up weird stories here like the rest of us. I think he'd be the only one who
wouldn't need a disclaimer.
Azrael: Fascinating analysis, Pyper.
Pyper: Thank you, thank you.
Azrael: *Sighs.* Anyway, we've written something that our very tired minds suddenly came up with
at the spur of the moment. Summer vacation and housework does that to you, I guess.
Pyper: We had fun visualizing all these scenes. We hope you will too!
Azrael: As for the whole ban on the actor fic thing and everything else, screw it. We're here to write
fanfiction, not worry about our limitations. 'Unleash your imagination and free your soul' my ass...
Pyper: *Steps in front of her before she can say anything that would freeze their account.* Well,
here's the fic. Enjoy!
BOARDING
"Welcome on board."
"Right, whatever." Chris Jericho said to the beaming stewardess that greeted him the moment
he stepped into the plane. He looked less that enthusiastic to be taking the WWF plane to their
next show.
"May I help you with that?" the still smiling stewardess offered, pointing to his bag.
He took his hand carry and looked at her. "Sure, here, take this for me." He said, dropping the
bag, that was about half her size and weight, into her arms. He waved his ticket in her face for
her to take it as well. "My seat's 7A. Now come on, hurry up, I want to get settled in as soon as
I can."
"Yes sir. 7A is this way, please." The stewardess said through clenched teeth as she painstakingly
took the ticket from him and started her way down the aisle carrying the bag, Jericho whistling
nonchalantly right behind her.
Matt rolled his eyes as he saw Jericho make his way to his seat. "Man, just our luck to be stuck
with that egotistical has-been for the next three hours."
"Lighten up." Lita said from the seat in front of him. She was kneeling on her seat, her arms
wrapped around the headrest, chin on top of it. She grinned at him. "Just be happy that we're
nowhere near his seat for this trip."
Matt sighed as he looked at her. "Speaking of being near somebody, are you sure you couldn't
persuade Jeff to change seats with you for this flight?"
Lita shook her head. "He didn't want to. Said something about wanting to stick beside his big
brother as often as he could."
Matt groaned. "Brother my ass. We're together with him for almost every second of everyday.
Where is he now?"
Lita looked up and around over the seats. "I think he went to the bathroom. Let's hope he's not
playing with the flush or anything. You know how much he likes those things for some reason."
Matt groaned again.
Somewhere near the back Spike glanced up from where he had been reading the in flight magazine
that had been left at his seat. Beside him sat Kane, and the Big Red Machine looked not the
slightest bit comfortable, sitting frigidly in his seat with his hands clenched to his lap.
"Hey Kane, you okay, man?" Spike asked.
"I'm fine." Kane said, sounding like he didn't mean it in the least.
"Are you sure? You look a little uneasy there."
"I said I'm fine." Kane said in the same type of voice.
"Okay, whatever you say, big guy." Spike said turning back to his magazine, but not being able
to resist shooting him a few worried glances.
At that moment Stone Cold Steve Austin appeared at the entrance. He thoroughly ignored the
stewardess who greeted him at the door and instead made his way to his seat immediately, which
was coincidentally on the other side of Kane. He took no notice of Kane or the runt of the
Dudley litter as he dumped his hand carry to the side of his seat.
"I knew I should have listened to Debra and gone with her on that early flight." Austin practically
growled to himself. He grabbed his bag and opened it revealing; you guessed it, beer. He took
out a six-pack, one of the many, and then shoved his bag in the overhead bin.
"Um, excuse me, sir…" one of the stewardesses had caught his cargo and spoke up, going over
to him.
"What??" Austin snapped. He had been about to sit down and enjoy getting drunk when this
annoying woman had piped up.
"I don't know how you managed to sneak in alcoholic drinks on the plane, sir, but I'm sorry, it
is not allowed." She apologized with her best smile.
"Are you telling me I can't drink my beer?" Austin asked in a low voice.
The stewardess faltered for a bit. "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying."
"Well this is what I say." Austin told her. "Get back over there to the front and greet the other
passengers with that fake plastered smile of yours. Because if I can't go through this freakin'
flight drunk then you're sure as hell not going to like flying with me sober, is that clear??"
The stewardess lost her smile completely. "Yes sir." She squeaked, and backed away hurriedly.
Across the aisle, Booker T shook his head and went back to reading his magazine as well.
In front of him, Edge was looking at Rikishi, who was at the window seat, as the Phat Man
tried to find a decent radio station on the plane channels. Edge cleared his throat. "Hey Rikishi,
can I ask you something?"
"Sure, go ahead brother." Rikishi answered, still absorbed in what he was doing.
"Well, you know that planes have tiny bathrooms, right?"
"Everybody does." Rikishi said. "What about them?"
"Don't take this personally or anything, dude, but how in the hell do you actually go in one of
them when you need to go?" Edge finally asked.
At that Rikishi ultimately looked up. He stared at Edge for a while, then abruptly burst out
laughing, startling Ivory who was in front of them. "Would you believe you're not the first person
to ask me that?"
Edge blinked. "I'm not?"
Rikishi shook his head. Then he leaned closer to tell him. "Personally, I try to hold it in. But
if I really have to go, then I try to shoot it from the doorway as best as I can, if you get what
I mean."
Edge, probably wishing that he hadn't asked, nodded awkwardly and settled back in his seat.
In the front, the pair of stewardesses who stood there greeting the superstars as they entered
were met by the one that had 'escorted' Jericho to his seat. Before they could ask her if she
was all right, somebody stepped into the doorway. All three of them were struck dumb for a
moment as a large figure towered over them.
Undertaker looked down at the trio in disinterest. Presently one of them cleared her throat
and gave a shaky smile. "Hello, sir… welcome aboard. May I show you to your seat?"
Taker was chewing on a piece of tobacco. He spat it to one side and held up his ticket. "13G."
he said.
She took it from him hesitantly. "This way." She said, walking off but glancing behind herself
fearfully every now and then.
From the front, Maven looked up warily over the top of a newspaper he had hurriedly grabbed
from a passing stewardess. When he saw that the Dead Man had gone, he breathed a sigh of
relief.
Taker reached the back of the cabin and looked down in disgust when he saw his apparent
seatmate for the trip. "What is he doing there?" he asked the stewardess.
"I could move…" Brooklyn Brawler said quickly, standing up.
The stewardess took him by the arm. "I'm sorry sir, but unless there is a no show I'm afraid
you'll have to stay here in your original seat." She didn't add that she didn't envy him for it.
Taker snarled out something illegible and dropped into the window seat. Brawler tentatively
slid into the seat beside the Dead Man, as far away as he could manage to be even if he was
sitting next to him.
In the middle, and probably the only group that got death stares from every single wrestler in
the Federation, were the nWo. Kevin Nash was in the middle, pretty much asleep already.
Scott Hall was seated next to him, biting his fingernails. X-Pac was seated on the other side of
Nash, giving Lita malicious grins that were getting on Matt's nerves.
Fortunately that was stopped when someone slipped into the seat beside Lita, blocking X-Pac's
view. Hulk Hogan smiled at Lita. "I believe this is my seat."
Lita grinned back, relieved to be rid of X-Pac. "I was wondering who was coming along to claim
it."
Hogan turned to come face to face with the members of the nWo, his former faction. He
frowned back at the scowling faces of Hall and X-Pac, as Nash was halfway to total zonkness.
Just his luck to be situated near those idiots.
"Does the Rock look like he needs any help??" a loud voice said from the front.
Scotty looked up in amusement as the Rock bellowed down on the hapless young stewardess
that had offered to take his bag from him. Actually, up until that moment he had been snickering
to the side at seeing that Billy Kidman and Tajiri had been seated on either side of Torrie Wilson.
All this despite the fact that he was well aware of Albert seated behind him.
Rock took his seat and immediately groaned. "What the…??"
"Hey, Rocky!" Kurt greeted from the next seat. "Can you believe we're seated together again?
Is this weird or what?"
Rock groaned and wondered who in the hell was messing around with their tickets. This was
the third ride that he had been seated next to Kurt. Somewhere in the WWF office at Greenwich
Connecticut, some of the officials snickered.
Trish Stratus looked at the ticket in her hand, and sighed and shook her head as she caught sight
of the person in the next seat.
Jericho looked up, annoyed. "Is there something you want?" he asked snootily.
"7A?" Trish asked dryly.
"Yeah, and so?"
Trish showed him her ticket. "I'm 7B." she said, not looking too happy about it.
'Great,' Jericho thought as Trish sat down. 'Now I'm seated next to a fluffed-up, airheaded,
narcissistic, blonde Barbie Doll.' Little did he know, Trish was thinking the same thing about him.
Triple H got to his seat and nearly keeled over in shock. "What the hell…? Mick, what're you
doing here?"
Foley looked up from writing his latest project and gave him a gap-toothed grin. "I'm here to
do a little promotion for the company, unknown to Vince, of course." He said. "Not exactly at
the show, but I could use the lift. You seated here?" he pointed to the empty seat beside him.
Triple H checked his ticket, the number of the seat, and then his ticket again. "Yeah." He finally
said lifelessly.
"Well how do you like that." Foley said, still with that grin. "Well don't just stand there, make
yourself comfortable. In fact, I got a little worried there. For a moment I thought I'd have to
be seated next to Al Snow."
"I heard that." Snow's voice came from the seat behind him.
Foley shrugged. "Wasn't able to avoid having me behind me, though."
Triple H sighed in exasperation but chucked his hand carry in the overhead bin and took his seat.
"First it was that weird little guy Spike, and then the crazy, wannabe superhero." Hardcore
Holly was grumbling to his cousin seated in the middle of him and Crash. "Who next, the Tough
Enough rookie??"
"Give me a break, Hardcore." Molly muttered. "Can we just forget about it?"
"And why'd you dye your hair?" Crash asked. "What was wrong with being blonde?"
"Too many of them in the WWF." Molly responded. "And I don't particularly want to be equated
with those airheads."
Hardcore caught Billy and Chuck giggling to each other in the next row. He sighed. "I think I
know what you mean."
By that time Hurricane had swooped into the area and took the seat across the aisle from Crash.
He gave everyone amiable nods before sitting down, acknowledging Molly with frigid politeness.
She hardly turned her head to him at all. Test, in the window seat beside him, rolled his eyes.
The PA system came on. "Everybody please take your seats." A female voice said. "Take off will
commence shortly."
"Not short enough." Rock muttered under his breath as Kurt happily buckled himself in.
There was a slight scramble as the superstars took their seats. William Regal found that he
had been situated in between the APA of all people. Talk about dumb luck. The Godfather
was near the middle of the rows, with two of his hos on either side of him. The door was about
to be closed when a shout came.
"Hold up, we're not in yet!!"
The stewardess called for the door to be opened and two people came in, one with a big smile
on his face. Coachman looked up from his seat. "Mr. Flair?"
"Hello, Coach." Flair greeted. "David and I almost didn't make it here, damned rental car got a
flat tire on the way." He patted his son on the shoulder.
"Uh, Mr. Flair? I think the executive lounges are somewhere on the second level." Coach said.
"I know." Ric said. "But I didn't want to hang around up there, I like it better down here with the
rest of the guys. Besides, up there I'd get a bigger chance of seeing Vince, and I don't want to
hear him whining about how I stole Stone Cold away from him again." He smiled. "Hey, here's
our seats." He said, gesturing to the front row. He and David sat down.
All in all here was the layout for the superstars' seating arrangement for the duration of the plane
ride:
13A-G:
Brock Lesnar, Paul Heyman (aisle), Terri, Raven, crewmember (aisle), Brooklyn Brawler,
Undertaker
12A-G:
Jazz, Booker T (aisle), Stone Cold Steve Austin, Kane, Spike Dudley (aisle), Bubba Ray Dudley,
D-Von Dudley
11A-G:
Rikishi, Edge (aisle), Rob Van Dam, Michael Cole, Diamond Dallas Page (aisle), Perry Saturn,
Tommy Dreamer
10A-G:
Ivory, Goldust (aisle), Ho, Godfather, Ho (aisle), Steve Blackman, Al Snow
9A-G:
Mr. Perfect, Val Venis (aisle), three members of the creative team (aisle), Triple H, Mick
Foley
8A-G:
Jerry Lyn, Justin Credible (aisle), Bradshaw, William Regal, Faarooq (aisle), Jacqueline, Sharmell
Sullivan
7A-G:
Chris Jericho, Trish Stratus (aisle), Big Bossman, Big Show, Bull Buchanon (aisle), Billy Gunn,
Chuck Palumbo
6A-G:
Test, Hurricane Helms (aisle), Crash, Molly Holly, Hardcore Holly (aisle), The Rock, Kurt Angle
5A-G:
Christian, Lance Storm (aisle), three crewmembers (aisle), Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy
4A-G:
two pyro-technicians (aisle), Scott Hall, Kevin Nash, X-Pac (aisle), Hulk Hogan, Lita
3A-G:
Mark Henry, Albert (aisle), three more crewmembers (aisle), Steven Richards, Tazz
2A-G:
Lillian Garcia, Scotty 2 Hotty (aisle), Tajiri, Torrie Wilson, Billy Kidman (aisle), Jonathan
Coachman, Kevin Kelly
1A-G:
Jim Ross, Jerry 'The King' Lawler (aisle), Mave, , D'Lo Brown (aisle), Ric Flair, David Flair
By the time everyone was settled in, the door was closed and the lights in the cabin dimmed.
The plane started to taxi down the runway as an in flight safety video started playing on the
screens.
Kane gripped the arms of his seat. "Think of big, open spaces, think of big, open spaces…" he
began to softly chant to himself, still through clenched teeth. Spike gave him a funny look.
Austin, in the meantime, was already on his third beer.
"This is your captain speaking." A scrambled voice suddenly came on the PA. "Welcome aboard
to all the WWF superstars. Travel time to our destination is approximately three hours and
twenty-seven minutes. More probably if the weather report was true about a certain storm,
hehehe…"
All the wrestlers looked at each other uncomfortably.
"But other than that we'll probably have smooth sailing from here on." Another voice said.
"This is your co-pilot signing off. We hope you'll have a pleasant flight."
The system went off and the cabin was silent. The plane started to pick up speed, even as
Spike grew more alarmed at Kane's anxious mumbling and Rock contemplated on whether
killing Kurt would be beneficial to all. There was a loud rush of wind and the plane's nose tilted
towards the sky.
In a matter of minutes the plane was airborne.
***
Azrael: Can you believe we originally meant for this to be one chapter only? Well, so much for
that thought.
Pyper: The best parts are yet to come, I assure you.
Azrael: Man, I can't believe we actually wrote that thing with Rikishi. That was just so crude.
*Goes off to sit in front of her computer and in effect stare at the screen for hours playing
Bejewled instead of writing the next chapter.*
Pyper: Loved it? Hated it?? Please review! Any flames we will treat as our property and be
subjected to ridicule! And trust us, that's one thing we do best... *Grin.*