A/N: I'm going to offend a lot of people with this story. And I'm not going to apologize.

"You're doing what in my house?"

Chris twiddled with the papers in his hands awkwardly, before he gestured to the stool beside Adam's counters. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Adam sat down. "What is your plan, exactly?"

"I went online, into a chat room, under an inconspicuous screen name, to lure unsuspecting hypocrites to your house. So they will be arrested."

"For being hypocrites?"

"No, for being pedophiles."

"What?"

Chris was staring into one of the pictures on Adam's wall, smoothing the sides of his hair back. "Yeah. I thought I would put in my two cents on this whole predator scene."

"Chris, you can't just do this! It's illegal, for one. Two, it's entrapment. And three, it's dangerous!"

"Please. I'm a professional wrestler. The first ever undisputed champion. I've been in the biz for ten years. I can hold my own."

"You have no experience in catching online predators."

"No, but I've watched a lot of Dateline."

"To Catch a Predator hardly qualifies as legitimate reason to do something this stupid!"

"I handled myself well. I posed as a—"

"I don't want to know, Chris." Adam put his hand up. "Don't even tell me. It's absolutely disgusting to think about."

Chris shrugged. "When I get famous off of this, you'll be wishing you'd been on my side."

"You're already famous!"

"Maybe I'll get my own television show." Chris started pacing, fingers drumming against his lips. "To Chris a Predator. To Catch a Jericho. No, that's no good..."

"And why did you choose my house?"

Chris frowned at him. "I don't want any of his boys on the outside coming to kill me."

"Oh, great! Do you honestly use your brain? Ever?"

"How do you think I came up with this brilliant plan?"

"Fucking Chris Hansen gave you the idea!"

"Listen, I don't even have Chris Hansen's phone number, so there's no way we could've communicated in order for this idea to come about, so if—"

"Do you hear yourself talk sometimes?"

"I record myself. And then I listen to it later and pick up on what words I repeat because I fucking love my voice, and—"

Adam held up his hands. "I think someone's here."

Chris smacked his papers against the counter. "Go! Get out of here! He can't see you, or he'll know this is a set-up!"

"You're Chris—"

"Get out of here!" Chris grabbed his sleeve and hauled him into the next room. "Just stay here. I guess. I don't know. Don't come out until he gets arrested."

"Chris, what—"

The front door creaked open.

Chris turned, poised. He cleared his throat, waiting for the shoes he heard to come closer. He gestured to the chair next to him when he saw the shadow. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Mack blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Oh. It's just you."

"Uh huh. Why are you dressed up? In my kitchen? With..." Mack pulled the papers toward her, face twisting with horror. "Pictures of you naked!"

"You can't tell it's me, can you?" Chris turned the papers sideways. "Damn. Why can't I wrestle without clothes on?"

"Because the ratings will decrease even more than they already are!"

"Listen, if RAW was on Cinemax, they'd increase because I'd be all out—"

"Where's my boyfriend? I usually come into this house expecting to see him because it's his."

"He's in the other room."

"Well, tell him to come in here and kick you out because—"

"Chris, when do I come in?"

Chris glared at Jay, who'd just come into the room. "When I give you the queue."

"What's that?"

"I'm Chris Jericho and you're on To Chris a Predator."

Jay nodded. "Hey, that's kinda catchy. I wonder if—"

"Enough! Back to your post, camera man."

Jay frowned and turned, knocking into the wall. He grumbled and went behind the curtain Chris had set up over the open doorway.

Mack blinked. "To Chris a Predator. Chris, what the fuck are you up to?"

"I'm—"

"Hello?"

Chris's red eyes widened, and he pushed Mack into the same room Adam was stuck in, slamming the door. He cleared his throat and waited patiently.

Shoes cracked against the linoleum.

"Anyone here?"

And then...

"Why don't you have a—" Chris paused. "Dave?"

Batista paused, mouth open slightly. "What the hell's goin' on here?"

Chris couldn't say a damn word.

Batista backed away. "This isn't... Is this a set up?"

"Why... Why don't you have a seat?"

"No, no, no, no, no, fuck!" Batista paced the length of the kitchen. "No, no, this can't happen to me. Chris, you gotta get me out of here. Are you in on this?"

"Dave Bautista..." Chris shrugged. "You're on To Chris a Predator."

The curtains behind Batista flapped awkwardly, then Jay stumbled into the room, pointing the lens-covered camera at Dave.

Dave licked his lips in thought, but then his eyes widened a bit. He started to laugh. "Oh! It's a joke! Oh, wow. You're good, Jericho."

Chris nodded, straightening the edges of his papers. "You're free to leave at any time."

"Okay. Thanks, Jericho." Batista laughed again. "What a character you are!"

Jericho nodded, watching intently as Batista headed for the front door. He glanced over at the camera, quirking his lips slightly.

"FREEZE!"

"Oh, son of a—...Cody?"

"You're under arrest!"

"HA! You're gotta be kidding me. Like you could—"

A loud sound reverberated throughout the house, followed by a hollow thud.

Chris motioned for Jay to follow him outside, where Cody was tying Dave's hands behind his back.

Jay gasped, nearly dropping the camera. "My Buddha! What the fuck did you do to my Buddha!"

"Chris gave it to me," Cody explained. "In case things got ugly."

"And they certainly did." Chris turned his nose up at Dave. "What a pervert."

"I know. I didn't know he went after fourteen year old girls."

"Fourteen year old girls?"

Jay glanced at Chris. "Yeah. Isn't that what you were posing as?"

"Of course not! That's just sick."

"Well, what were you posing as then?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "John Cena. Obviously."

A/N: Oh, my God. Review.