A/N: I didn't think the gangster hug would be such a hit. Nice!

This is…the end.

Some will love it because they were right. Some will hate it because they were horribly wrong. Oh well…

And no, Jeff did not think that Maria was the killer. You'll see.

"First, my brother and my best friend in the entire world. Now, my girlfriend?! One of you two is a sick fuck," Jeff growled, gently extracting the bloody pocket knife from Maria's back. He picked up a large bunch of her reddish brown hair and covered the wound. Luckily, it was long enough to cover it, but hair wasn't very absorbent when it came to blood. The deep red liquid still seeped out from under her curls.

"I'm a sick fuck?" John asked in mock shock.

"Well, you are pretty gay for Orton," Jeff muttered crudely under his breath, but John heard.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, and add Hogan to the mix, too. You three can go eat some ham sandwiches and have a nice gay bash while you're at it, too," Jeff retorted, placing his pocket knife on the ground next to Maria's body. He stood up to face the much bulkier John Cena.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, Hardy," John said, trying not to show how offended he was at Jeff's words.

"Boys, stop it!" Torrie demanded, stepping in between the two and eyeing the pocket knife that Jeff had set down on the ground. "I have a rational idea for all of us."

"Doubt it," both men said at the same time, then resumed their glaring at one another.

"Whatever," Torrie sighed, rolling her eyes.

"No, Torrie, go on. Don't let this sad little emo kid get to you," John said, urging Torrie to go on with her idea.

"Fuck off, Cena. You're the one crying like a bitch since you got injured," Jeff snarled back. "No, Randy, get off of me! My arm still hurts and I can't bend down on all fours for you tonight. This is all your fault, too, and--"

"ENOUGH!" Torrie yelled, wanting the childish argument between Jeff and John to stop. "How about we all go around and state who we think is the killer and why. After all, it has to be one of us, right?"

"Right," both men concurred at the same time, resuming their glaring war.

"You both are pathetic…" Torrie trailed off, rolling her eyes once again. Rolling her eyes at the boys seemed to be Torrie's trend of the night. "I'll go first. Jeff, I think it's you."

"What?!" Jeff snapped, his eyes breaking the bond they had with John's and turning instead onto the blonde Diva. "You're joking, right?"

"Yes! She's on my side!" John yelled with a fist pump in the air.

"Well, I mean…John is so sweet, and you've been really, well…angry tonight."

"Of course I'm fucking angry, Torrie!" Jeff screamed. "First, my brother gets offed, and now Maria is laying there with her guts pouring out! Wouldn't you be at least slightly hot and bothered if you were in my position? Oh, wait, I'm sorry. The most pain that you've ever endured was getting your hair bleached!"

Torrie's eyes welled up in tears. Yeah, she hadn't expected the greatest reaction from Jeff, but she didn't think that he'd blow up. Since Jeff was usually reasonable, she thought that maybe he'd understand why she thought he was the killer. But since Torrie was gentle minded, she totally overlooked the fact that if Jeff was the killer, she just might have made herself his next victim.

"I agree with Torrie, obviously," John stated, proud of his answer and the fact that he wasn't alone.

"Wow, big shocker there," Jeff said sarcastically. "You know, kind of like your whole career. Oh, I wonder if Cena is going to win this match. No, he can't win against Khali, right? But I forgot…he's SUPER CENA! Of fucking course he's going to win. Yeah, you suck, fucker."

"Then who do you think is the killer?" John asked, cracking his knuckles.

"I don't think anyone is the killer," Jeff simply stated with no reservations.

"Why not?" Torrie asked.

"Because I know who the killer is," Jeff announced.

"You do?" John asked, his voice cracking into a higher pitch.

"John, what's up with your voice? Shouldn't you have gone through puberty about…oh, I don't know…twenty years ago?" Jeff rudely asked.

"Sorry…my voice cracks when I'm nervous," John whispered.

"Why are you nervous?"

"I just don't want you guys to think I'm the killer! I'm the nice guy. I don't do shit!"

"Yeah, except suck cock…" Jeff muttered.

"Fuck you. Look, maybe there's a distinguishing mark on Maria's body that would tell us who the killer is," John said.

"What are you now, a forensic scientist?" Jeff asked, thinking that John was an idiot.

"No, I just come up with ideas," John said as he bent down next to Maria and gently lifted her hair up from the wound, a sizable chunk of her hair sticking to where the knife had penetrated her.

Torrie checked out her cuticles while Jeff noticed everything that John did.

"TORRIE!" Jeff yelled as he tackled her to the ground.

Good thing, too, because John threw Jeff's pocket knife, and it soared where Torrie's chest had been mere moments before Jeff took her down.

"Torrie, RUN!" Jeff demanded, and she didn't need to be told twice.

"I trusted you!" Torrie screamed, pointing at John before scampering down the hall.

"Jeff, she would have made a lovely addition to my hit list," John snapped, getting angry that Jeff had ruined his chances at cleaning, or rather killing, house.

Both men were just standing there, then they both glanced at where the pocket knife was laying on the ground. They looked back at each other, then both ran towards the knife. Jeff got to it first. "Maybe if you didn't pump all those 'roids, you would be faster," Jeff taunted, waving the knife in front of him.

Out of nowhere, Jeff was tackled down by John, who regained the knife and ended up grabbing Jeff. John had a death grip around Jeff's waist, and they were belly to belly, John holding the knife behind Jeff's back. John raised the knife in the air and swiftly brought it down. Almost as if it were instinct, Jeff somehow wriggled himself free from John's clutches just in the knick of time, and John ended up stabbing himself in the stomach.

Jeff watched with wide eyes as John crumbled down to the ground in his time of dying. "Dude, somehow, I knew you were faking that pec injury," Jeff laughed, and he walked away, leaving the killed killer behind.

"Torrie?" Jeff called down the hallway.

"J-Jeff?" Torrie answered, coming out of one of the rooms. "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, Torrie. It's over. It's all over. Now we just have to get out of here."

A/N: Sorry, I hate John Cena. He was planned to be the killer from the beginning. No, I never changed my mind about that.

Um…Jeff and Torrie won't be in the sequel…I don't even know if I'm doing a sequel now. But if I do, it will be completely different Superstars, Cody and Trips being two confirmed Superstars.

The end. Thank you to all that have reviewed and will review. And thanks for making this my story with the greatest review to chapter ratio.