A/N: Erm…I thought of this last Tuesday when I went to the SmackDown all-star kick-off thing (which sucked, by the way, but I had to drive the two hours to see Cody and Ted). Lance wasn't there! I actually yelled out in the arena, "WHERE'S LANCE CADE?" I was so sad.

"This is a covert operation, Lance Cade," Chris Jericho whispered as he and Lance Cade were laying on the hallway floor on their stomachs. They were dressed in all camouflage with green and brown face paint covering every inch of exposed skin. Jericho had stuck branches in both of their collars. It looked like their heads were one giant fruit on a really odd looking tree. Everyone was passing the hallways, staring at the two men on the ground as they passed.

Jericho seemed not to notice. In his mind, he and Lance were hidden from the naked eye, hence his intense whispering.

"Chris, can we get off this dirty ground?" Lance asked in his regular voice. That tone wasn't quiet enough for Chris.


Chris's yelling scared a few of the Divas standing nearby. Melina nearly jumped out of her skin. "Oh my god, Chris, what are you doing?" she asked when she saw him.

"COVERT OPERATIONS!" Chris screamed back, putting his face to the ground and covering his head as if he was ducking and covering to protect himself from a bomb attack.

Wow… Lance mouthed.

"What is he doing now?" Shawn Michaels asked, stopping in the hallway after seeing Chris performing defensive acts of war.

"Shawn, I really don't—"

"Sneak attack," Jericho said, interrupting Lance.

"Huh?" Shawn said, not quite hearing what Jericho said.

"SHOO LANCE CADE!" Jericho screamed, shunning Lance Cade away from him.

"Whatever…" Lance sighed, getting off the ground and leaving Jericho.

"LANCE CADE! COME BACK! Such termination is defiant!" Jericho hollered, slightly begging Lance Cade to come back to him.

"Oh, where, oh, where is my little Lance Cade? Oh, where, oh, where can he be?" Jericho sang wearily, taking a long sip from his flask.

"Whoa!" Randy gasped, looking at Jericho. "Are you drinking? You can't be intoxicated at work! What in the hell have you got in that flask?"

Chris took another long swig from his flask. "Apple c-cider," he hiccoughed.

"Chris, you can't get drunk off of apple cider. Why on earth are you hiccoughing?"

"Randy Orton, Chris Jericho has the power to get drunk at will," Chris said, tossing Randy a devious look. "Jealous, much?"

"No. I'm not the one pretending to be smashed and singing about a guy. Where is Lance, by the way?"

Chris viciously capped the flask and slammed it on the table. He threw his arms around his head as it also fell to the table and erupted into sobs. "Lance Cade had taken it upon himself to leave the world of Jerichoism. I, Chris Jericho, am Lanceless."

"Lanceless?" Randy questioned, not quite sure he understood Chris. "Why are you Lanceless?"

Just then Shawn Michaels entered the catering room. His presence seemed to ignite the fire of Chris Jericho.

"Shawn Michaels, how aptly appropriate it is that you have walked in here during this deepest of conversations between myself, Chris Jericho, and Randy Orton," Chris said, as if he wasn't just crying over the missing Lance Cade.

"How so, Chris?" Shawn smiled. He knew this was going to be something outlandish.

"Shawn Michaels, there is a reason that Lance Cade is not with me right now. Would you like to know why that is?" Chris asked.

"No, I don't."

"Great. The reason is because he's going to sneak attack you during our ladder match at No Mercy. You hear that, Shawn Michaels? Lance Cade is going to SNEAK ATTACK YOU!"

Randy chuckled. "Chris, you don't let someone know when they are going to be sneak attacked. That totally takes the 'sneak' part out of the equation."

"Don't worry about it, Randy. I already knew about this."


"The writers told me fifteen minutes ago."