This is my first slasher type fic...I'm experimenting(: This first chapter is pretty much just a prologue to explain the background. Enjoy!

1990-Where it all began…

It was a quiet Thursday night on the Northwest University campus. The campus police officers, Dwayne Johnson and Steve Austin, were strolling around, not really doing much of anything due to the lack of activity.

Trish Stratus was too tired for words. It was after midnight and she was finally on her way back to her dorm after typing up now-flawless paper for her psychology class. As late as it was, her roommate, Amy Dumas, probably wasn't asleep; Trish bet she and her boyfriend, Matt Hardy, were keeping all the neighbors up.

Sure enough, when Trish got just outside the door of her and Amy's room, she could hear noise on the other side of the door. She rolled her eyes. This wasn't the first time Matt and Amy had locked her outside of the room so they could screw. Trish angrily banged on the door.

"Amy! Open the door." Trish waited for a response, but all she heard was screaming…and not the good kind either. She got worried and banged on the door even harder.

"Come on, Ames! Can't you guys do that shit in Matt's room?"

Now more pissed than ever, Trish snatched a bobby pin from her blonde hair and stuck it into the keyhole. She wiggled it around until the door unlocked. She furiously flung the door open.

"Amy, I can't believe you…" What she saw took the words right out of Trish's mouth. Amy was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Her shirt was completely blood-soaked and her throat was slit from ear-to-ear. Matt turned to face Trish. His hands were covered in blood, he had a knife in his hand, and there was a maniacal smile on his face. Trish was frozen in fear. As Matt stepped toward her, she dropped her bag and took off running.

Hunter Helmsley, his girlfriend Stephanie McMahon, and his friends Dave Batista, Rey Mysterio, Shawn Michaels, Lillian Garcia, and Candice Beckman, were watching TV in his room when someone started frantically banging on the door.

"Who the hell could that be?" Dave asked, irritation ringing in his voice.

"Whoever they are, they're gonna get it when I open the door," Hunter replied as he opened the door. Their friend Trish was standing there, looking terrified.

"Trish, what are you doing here?" Hunter asked.

"Call the cops, call security, call someone!" Trish exclaimed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on?" Hunter asked.

"Matt killed Amy, and I think he might have followed me here," replied Trish.

Stephanie's eyes grew wide. "Amy's dead?" As she lunged for the phone on Hunter's desk, someone else started banging on the door.

"Trish! I know you're in there!" growled a voice from the other side.

"He definitely followed you here," said Dave.

As they Steve and Dwayne passed Hart Hall, Dwayne's walkie talkie made a crackling sound. "Disturbance in McMahon Hall. All available officers respond."

"Ooh, some action," Dwayne joked.

"About damn time," Steve replied.

But what they found in Trish and Amy's room wasn't action; if action came at this price, they'd rather have put up with an eternity of boring nights.

Dwayne's eyes grew wide. "Oh my…"

Steve snatched his walkie talkie from his belt. "We have a one-eight-seven in room 434 of McMahon Hall! Radio for city police ASAP!"

Dwayne eyed the blood trail leading down the hall. He pulled his gun from the holster. He nodded his head down the hall, "That way."

Steve cautiously followed behind Dwayne. As they went up the stairs that connected the fourth floor to the fifth, they heard a banging sound that got louder and louder the further up they went.

"What the hell is that noise?" Dwayne asked.

Steve swallowed nervously. "I guess we'll find out when we open the door." Steve slowly opened the door leading from the stairwell to the hallway. A few doors down, Matt was still trying to get into Hunter's room, screaming, "Trish! Get the fuck out here! You're dead, bitch!"

Dwayne raised his gun. "Drop the knife!" he ordered.

Matt didn't say anything in response; he just charged at Dwayne. Not knowing what to do, Dwayne fired two rounds into Matt's chest. Steve slowly took the gun from Dwayne's hands.

"It's over, man. You did what you had to do." Said Steve.

And as the students came out into the hall and the sounds of the police sirens grew louder and louder, Dwayne really hoped he was right.

Six months later…

After having shown "incredible valor in the face of extreme danger", Steve and Dwayne had left the campus police force and became county sheriff's deputies. But, of course, they visited the campus frequently, as they'd become close friends with the students in room 515.

It was a slow Thursday night, much like the night they had all met Steve and Dwayne. And just like that night, everyone was hanging out in Hunter's room.

"What kind of sheriff's deputies are you guys, hanging out with a bunch of college kids?" Dave joked.

"We're not that much older than you guys," Dwayne shot.

"Besides, you know you enjoy our company," said Steve.

"So you think," Hunter said, just as someone knocked on the door. He opened it to see Steve and Dwayne's superior, Sheriff Calaway.

"So I'm guessing you want to see Steve and Dwayne?" Hunter asked.

"Actually, I need to speak with all of you," Calaway said.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"It would be much easier to explain if I could come in," said Calaway. Hunter reluctantly opened the door to let the black-haired, seven-foot tall officer of the law come into his room.

"I'm afraid I've got bad news," said Calaway.

"How bad?" Steve asked.

Calaway sighed. "Matt Hardy escaped from prison a few hours ago."

Stephanie gasped. "How?"

"Maximum security my ass," Dwayne growled.

"He killed one of the corrections officers and stole his uniform. Somehow, no one recognized him and he slipped out. They say he's heading this way." Said Calaway.

"So what does that mean for us? Witness protection?" Rey asked.

"Not exactly," said Calaway, "You don't really have to leave the area or do anything that drastic. Just small things…change you last names, perhaps?"

"If it means keeping us alive? Done." Dave said.

The truth was, changing their last names kept them safe.

For twenty years, anyway.