Author's Note

I had oodles of fun deriving my idea for the start of the sequel, I've decided to go with "Planting Deadly Fruit" as the title of the sequel (I really liked the idea of Adam and Steve, I think I'll use that for title refferences from here on out...). I already wrote a rough draft for the first chapter of the sequel, so it'll probably be up later tonight after I fix it up a little.

I'm sorry that this is a little short, but it is technically a Prologue. (I'll stop writing short ones, I promise!)

I don't own the WWE and I don't want offend hurt you.

Without any more of my yammering; the final chapter.

John couldn't help but smile as he strolled through the hallway, his new belt tied securely around his waist.

Hell, at this rate, he had the right to!

He had reclaimed his World Heavyweight Championship title back from Adam, and to top it all off, Christian, Mr. Superior, had lost his money in the bank ladder match to CM Punk!

It was enough to tickle him pink, just by thinking about it. It was a real riot.

And of course, Christian knew John felt this way. He saw it in John's eyes as they exchanged glares in the hallway. The arrogance and the defiance. The whole bit was probably driving Christian bonkers with rage.

Then, when John would give him his signature "you-can't-see-me" hand gesture before walking off; the slight twitching in Christian's face made him want to laugh out loud.

He even had the audacity to whistle at Jack in front of Christian.

Now, if he had more time and a closer target range, he would have eaten Jack alive, but for lack of privacy thanks to Christian's newly developed clingy-bitch syndrome, he had to be content with tipping his hat, winking suggestively and the occasional cat-call.

Even these small offenses made Christian's skin crawl; every wink that John sent Jack's way, every kiss blown, every flirty smile aimed at him made Christian wild.

It felt so good to see Christian break, to watch him crumbling under pressure.

Almost as good as it would have felt to have knocked his teeth out back at Wrestlemania.

He had definitely altered Christian's opinion of him since then.

Before, he hadn't been so dangerous, no, he was the hoodlum; the looser. But now? He was a threat. He was a considerably large threat; or so Christian seemed to deem him.

And John liked being a threat; making Christian feel that he had to constantly be on guard. It served the mother-fucker right after all that he'd put John through!

What really got him was that he could also sense in Christian's behavior that he was afraid to leave Jack alone, afraid that John would steal him away if just given that one chance. He certainly was protective of that little cunt.

John could hardly get one good smooth-line out to Jack in the locker-rooms before Christian was on the scene with his claws out, whisking Jack away.

For example right after Wrestlemania, he'd gone to the locker-rooms and caught Jack waiting by Christian's locker. And rather than just leave Jack to wait alone in silence, he thought it better to go show off his new belt.

He had barely gotten a good few words out to Jack before Christian was on his case with "get the fuck away from him you prick-hound!"

No, no this would never do! It was suffocation on Christian's part and John wouldn't stand for it; he had to let that sexy little bitch breath sometime!

Though, this was only the tip of the iceberg.

As if that weren't enough, he was also forcing Jack to share with him his dressing and hotel rooms, as well as issuing him specific curfews and rules about how much free time he could get. He couldn't take a piss without Christian watching; he was one step away from having Jack on a baby leash! The nerve.

John had every reason and right to pursue Jack and now Christian was shooting down all of his possible confrontations with the sexy blond!

Damn that nervy son of a bitch. Damn him to hell.

But John wasn't about to let some Canadian fuck push him over; he was American and America always won.

The revolutionary war? America. World War I? America again. World War II? America baby. Vietnam? Close call, but America. The Cold War? Another close call, but America still brought home a decent win. There was no way he was going to let Christian beat him.

He would just have to up his game a little, that's all.

Then it came to him; a gun.

Guns could make people do anything. Anything. Even leave their sweet, tight, blond boyfriend in the clutches of their subordinates. Fuck, it happened all the time for James Bond.

Of course, it wouldn't be a real one; it would just look real. He was a professional at using them on the set, he could pull it off. After all, he was the lead role of two gun movies; "The Marine" and "Twelve Rounds"

Exactly, how many movies had Christian played the lead in again?

Yeah, this would be a piece of cake.

He had everything planned to happen when ECW was hosted in his hometown of West Newbury, Massachusetts.

He would walk in, parade around Christian's room with his "gun", generally cause a panic; maybe for kicks get Jack to suck him off in front of Christian before leaving, and then he would get Jack to come with him to the parking lot and to his parents' house. It was fool-proof

On the day of said break-in, he didn't feel the least bit nervous about what he was set out to do.

Not even as he strode down the hall with his "gun" concealed half-heartedly in his back pocket did he feel even a twinge of unease.

He was a champ and this was how champs operated; cool, determined and always successful.

To be continued in... "Planting Deadly Fruit".