Twenty minutes passed and members of all three rosters began entering the dining hall. Superstars of Raw, Smackdown and ECW had become unlikely comrades but, in some cases, the experience was tearing them apart. With some questions yet to be resolved, everyone took a seat, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Boss.

With his theme song 'No Chance in Hell' blaring over the tanoy, many of the wrestlers and spouses covered their eyes for comfort. They soon spied a Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon, now power walking with a spring in his step, a sure but confident grin attached to his lips. Jonathan Coachman closely followed behind him, as if his mouth was permanently attached to McMahon's arse, his straightened his tie, sending out a message of smugness to the members of the locker room he felt were, 'below him'.

As the Chairman waited for silence, many of the wrestlers glanced around, confused at the fact there was no sight of Mick Foley. Simply shrugging their broad shoulders, the D Generation X duo snickered to themselves, wanting to make this next situation as awkward as possible for the Game's Father-In-Law.

As Mr. McMahon cleared his throat, he was about to receive what he would call a rude interruption, courtesy of the Heartbreak Kid. "Uh, Sir, you seem to be one man down?"

Triple H played along perfectly with his best mate's antics. "Yeah, where is Mr. Foley?"

With his face turning a nice shade of crimson, the DX duo realised that they just hit a nerve with the Boss. "Mick isn't here because, upon returning from my very important meeting with Donald Trump, I found him passed out, intoxicated in my office, his flyers undone, all over the place dammit!" banging his fist on the table, many from the rosters were beginning to titter amongst themselves. "I had no choice but to fire him, indefinitely."

No one was surprised with that result. High Fiving underneath the table, Hunter and Shawn's lighted up faces told the story.

"However, I haven't brought you all here to discuss Mick's personal issues." Vince once again cleared his throat, clasping an envelope in his palms. "I am here to address the financial situation of World Wrestling Entertainment."

Many groaned at the mere notion of that prospect.

"Now, I'm never one to drone on for too long, but I will require you to give me your full attention for the next ten or so minutes." Vince requested, receiving another blunt chorus of mumbles. "As you all now, just a few weeks ago, I discovered that the WWE had somehow managed to stumble upon hard times, money wise. Admittedly, we weren't doing so great at buy rates but, that is something over time I hope we can all agree that we need to work together over in improving the standards of our pay per views and live events."

The wrestlers and wives nodded; there was no doubt in any of their minds that there was definitely room for improvement.

"But, none of us, of higher authority, realised just how bad the situation had gotten. So, when I took a peep at my last bank statement, my immediate thoughts were just shock - how could we have slipped so quickly?"

Everyone gazed around at each other and nodded; it had certainly been a question present on their minds for quite some time now.

Lifting up a new envelope from the bank, Vince hushed his workers. "Then, Miss Kanellis over there handed me this bank statement this morning, upon my arrival back to Stamford."

The WWE's ditsy Diva mentioned smiled and waved to many bemused members of the locker room.

"Upon reading this statement, it appears that I have made an unfortunate and strangely inapplicable and rare mistake." Vince continued, the superstars raising their eyebrows as a new sign of awareness. "It seems that, when I was reading the original statement, well, you see..."

"What Mr. McMahon is trying to say it," Coachman stood, realising that his mentor was beginning to feel rather foolish. "It turns out that - when he was reading the other statement - his thumb was covering up the last four noughts on the final figure."

Many of the superstar's exhaled, a prolonged session of grunting was soon to follow.

However, some of the less intelligent WWE workers did not understand what the Chairman and his right hand man was saying. Then, it was explained to them by their room buddies and friends. None of them were in the slightest bit amused.

"W-what, hold on a second." The King of Kings raised from his seat, his wife and partner in crime mimicking his actions. "You mean to say that we've all lived here, in cramped, shit conditions for no reason what so ever?"

Vince smiled sheepishly. "Um, yes?"

The wrestlers and their partners felt their blood boil, Coachman taking it upon himself to be the, um, 'voice of reason'. "I can assure you, under no circumstances did Mr. McMahon do this intentionally. Do any of you really think for one second that a multi-billionaire such as himself would want to be stuck in a building with people like you?"

The superstars glanced at one another, irritability clouding their expressions. Even Vince shared this moment of angst, disappointed at the Coach's plain words. "Ya know, Coach, I think you ought to go and start packing your stuff before I have a few choice words for you!" Vince growled, Jonathan hastily retreating from the room, as the Boss had a final few words for his employees. "Thank you all for being so understanding." he continued, before anyone - particularly DX - could interrupt him. "You have my permission to go and pack your bags because your flights have been booked for you all return back to your homes!" Vince announced, the crowd of the locker room cheering in response, barging their way back to their rooms, more than thankful for the new revelation.

- - - - - - - - - -

In room four, the Undertaker and his wife, Sara, were packing away their families belonging's. A few moments of silence passed before the Deadman's 'little' brother made his way into the room, tip toeing over to his bed.

Then, a gruff voice bellowed his name. "Kane."

Spinning around, the Big Red Machine smiled weakly. "Undertaker."

"What's the meaning of swearing in front of the children?"

Kane felt a large drop of sweat plummet from his forehead. "Um, sorry, heat of the moment."

"You know what I ought to do?" the Phenom said, marching over to his baby brother. "I ought to beat the living hell outta you."

Kane gulped; he'd been on the receiving end of the Undertaker's fists and kicks one too many times in the past.

Then, to his shock, his older brother embraced him, his leather wrapped arms holding him close. "Thanks for being such a great room buddy." he muttered, Kane returning the unusually passionate hug.

- - - - - - - - - -

Elsewhere, in room two, Randy Orton and Edge were the only two at the moment in there; Carlito, John Cena and Torrie Wilson - who were all packed and ready to leave - had gone to take her dogs for a long walk before the long flight home. It was a good time for the duo to reflect on the pass few weeks.

"I think Torrie and Carlito have made up." the third generation superstar snarled, laying pairs of his designer trousers onto his bed, well, for the next hour it would be classed as his bed.

"I know I thought we'd really busted that bimbo up." the Rated R Superstar spoke up, zipping up his final suitcase.

"I was certain that we had." the Legend Killer continued. "She believed us when we said that Carlito had been ringing up other girls, telling them how much he loved them instead of her."

"And that he was only with her so that when the time was right, he could get a good shag out of a former Playboy cover girl." Edge concluded. "Mind you, it was good fun while it all lasted, brought a bit of enjoyment to our lives at least."

Neither man had the time to say anymore; their three room buddies returned, laughing and joking with one another. Torrie was the first person in.

"I really wish that you'd gone for a number two, Clo Clo." she baby voiced at one of her miniscule dogs.

Carlito smirked. "She'll end up going poopy in here."

"She'd better not do near any of our stuff!" the one time World Heavyweight Champion spoke in a threatening tone.

Just as those words passed the lips of the Legend Killer, Chloe leapt up onto Randy and Edge's reluctantly shared bed, relieving her bowels of any last traces of, ummm, turd onto Randy's freshly ironed trousers.

Orton scowled, poison spilling from his eyes. He was beyond fuming.

Bundling her small dogs into their pet cases, the blonde Diva grinned, Carlito assisting her with all of her other bags. "Well, I guess revenge is sweet." she purred, romantically smooching her boyfriend as Rated RKO were left on their own once again, pissed off that they'd been done over.

"And dat...dat's cool!"

Meanwhile, in room eight, Paul London and Brian Kendrick were not on speaking terms as such; they only mumbled answers to one another’s questions.

Ashley re-entered the room; she had finally been irritated for too long by the WWE Tag Team Champions. "Ok, ok, I know you two had your little brawl earlier on in the day but enough is enough." she spoke truthfully, both men turning to face her. "This is beyond ridiculous. You can just fall out over me, I'm not worth that. You guys have a fantastic friendship. Don't let me ruin it."

Paul considered his girlfriend's words for a few seconds, running a hand through his hair. "Brian, I'm not giving up on a girl that I can seriously see having a future with just because you have a crush on her. I'm sorry that it's had to come to this but I don't see why it's just me who has to compromise. We are meant to be a team, the tag team champs."

Brian rubbed his chin; he knew perfectly well where his partner was coming from.

"I have thought about what you said, you know, about giving up as a tag team and all, but that's not what I want to do; I want us to be able to work as a team but, at the same time, be able to be happy. When this whole mess gets resolved, I think we need to go and have a talk with Mr. McMahon, see what he thinks. If we can't get along, we'll give it up, but until then, I don't want to."

Brian merely nodded at the words he'd just heard. Ashley, on the other hand, had different ideas.

"C'mon you guys, just make up already." she urged, pushing them together for a hug. It was hardly an embrace, hardly memorable or significant. But it was at least a start.

In room number one, the atmosphere was a lot calmer than everywhere else. Shawn Michaels and Triple H had been left by themselves, whilst their wives took their children to the toilet before the long trip back home. Fastening up a final suitcase, many of which were in taxis waiting outside, the Heartbreak Kid took a seat next to the Game, gladly accepting a swig of the mineral water available to him.

"So, I guess that is that, as they say."

"Not yet, you've still got half a bottle left!" the Icon spoke, handing back the plastic bottle to the King of Kings.

"No, muppet, I meant this whole thing is it - no more living in the same building as Mr. Vince McMahon."

"No, thank heavens." Shawn sighed, a hint of regret notable in his tone. "I guess, considering everything, it hasn't been so bad."

Triple H smirked. "Nope, we managed to play a few pranks and even get Mick Foley fired." Hunter chuckled, as did his buddy.

Shawn looked puzzled. "By the way, what did Ashley put in Mick's drink?"

"Not much, just about a quarter of a bottle of neat vodka, a couple of sleeping tablets and some paracetamol, nothing too bad."

The Showstoppa' gasped. "Are you kidding me? That could have killed him!"

"Shawn, have you seen the size of Foley? He's huge! It would take more than that to kill him!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Shawn once again sighed thoughtfully, the room becoming silence.

After a few moments, the Cerebral Assassin spoke up. "No but, in all seriousness, it's been great sharing a room with you and your family." he replied, tapping his best mate on the arm.

"Yeah, same here. It was kinda fun...if you ignore Vince McMahon and co!" Shawn tittered, the door before them swinging open.

Stephanie popped her head around the door. "Ok, time to go." she spoke softly, not wanting to wake a sleeping Aurora.

Turning off the light, shutting the door behind them, the D Generation X duo joined the rest of the roster members, all climbing into a taxi before making their way to an airport. It seemed like a new era had begun, one of a renewed sense of comradeship in the locker room, Vince McMahon finally in control again.

Yet, there is still one question unanswered; where the heck did The 'Great' Khali and Daivari go?

Being nice, I'll tell you. After realising that they could no longer show their faces on WWE TV ever again, they moved to Spain, never to wrestle again. Thankfully. Well, not so much in the case of Daivari, he's quite good but not the other one...

And with that, your friend's at D Generation X have a few departing words for Mr. McMahon, Jonathan Coachman and Mick Foley...

"SUCK IT!"

- - - - - - - - - -

Thank you for reading 'Necessary Evil'. Thank you to everyone who reviewed too, I hope you really did enjoy the twenty-two chapters I managed to pluck from the darkest corner of my brain cell!

Just as a note; I don't know whether they'll be another wrestling fan fiction for a while. I know I said that after 'Good Intentions?' but at the moment, I'm indulging in 'Life On Mars' and enjoying that a lot, probably more than writing this. But - I'm so gonna use that wrestling saying right now - never say never!

If you would like me to write anything specific, don't hesitate in sending me a PM, you never know, I may surprise myself and do it! I'd prefer comedy or angsty ideas but will consider any.

Thanks once again!

Eleanor.