Disclaimer: I don't own any of the WWE Superstars featured in this fic. I wish I could borrow them, though...
Rated: M
WARNINGS: slash, m/m pairings & sex, character death, blood and gore, explicit language, & other graphic scenes


Phil had just finished snapping a photo of a sleeping Zack Ryder on his phone when the bus they were on started to make weird noises. Being the only one awake, he had nobody around to ask if they heard the bus making weird noises, too. He looked out the window to his left and admired briefly the horror movie-like woods on either side of the road, the rain pouring down in all directions and the wind whipping madly. He hoped the bus didn't break down, as they were in the middle of nowhere.

Randy Orton was asleep on the seat next to the bathroom all the way in the back. That bastard always claimed that seat. Cody was one in front of him, with Big Show across the aisle, who was squished awkwardly into the too-small seat. Skipping a row, Kane slept on the right side of the bus, his face squished against the window. Zack slept one in front of Cody, which left Phil a nice view of Kane to his right, Zack to his back, and Alberto Del Rio's smelly, sweaty head in front of him. Daniel Bryan, Chris Jericho, Santino, Christian, Sheamus, John Cena, and The Miz occupied the rest of the seats on the bus. The fourteen men packed into one humid bus were starting to make Phil's stomach turn. It didn't help that they had all skipped showering after the show in favor of the better quality ones at the hotel they'd be arriving at in the wee hours of the morning. But now they were lost, so it really didn't matter.

One final squeak came from the bus before it slowly rolled to a stop. Phil jerked his head up towards the bus driver. His hands were raised in the air, and one could nearly see the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Fuck, Phil thought, intuitively knowing they were stuck.

"Hey! What gives?" Phil heard Cena speak loudly. He poked his head up and stared towards the front of the bus to see what would unfold. Cena kneeled on his seat and crossed his ridiculously-muscular arms across his massive chest.

"It's the bus," the driver sadly informed the wrestler. "She's finally gone an' broke down."

The driver buried his face in his hands and started to cry. Cena gave him a weird look before he sat back down again. Phil chuckled slowly and shook his head. This literally could not be happening right now. First of all, there was a plane to catch in a little over an hour that would take them to the next venue. Second, they had an early house show the next day before they went to the venue. Third, they were stuck on a fucking bus in the pouring rain in the middle of nowhere.

As the minutes passed on, more of the men started to wake up to an unmoving bus. Phil watched Kane stretch his long arms in the air before giving his balls a scratch. Phil looked on disgusted as a massive yawn escaped his lips. "I thought we didn't stop for another half hour, at least. Are we at the airport already?"

"No, the bus broke down and if you have any complaints about it, the bus driver is having an emotional breakdown that his beloved bus finally gave out," Phil spat, aggravated. He just wanted to lie down in a bed and relax. Everything else he needed was in his bag, which was stowed away under the bus. That included street clothes. Nobody got changed out of their wrestling attire as they booked it as soon as possible to the bus. His thighs were starting to chafe and his trunks were giving him a massive wedgie.

"What the fuck is happening?" Chris Jericho yelled arrogantly, looking around at the men with his narrowed icy blue eyes.

"The bus broke," Phil informed the fiery blond.

"No shit, Sherlock," Chris sneered in Phil's direction. "Why the fuck aren't we doing anything about it?"

"Yes, Jericho, because we can definitely fix a fucking bus," Phil spat. That arrogant bastard rubbed him the wrong way all the time. "But since you're the almighty Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah, perhaps God granted you the gift to fix internal engines."

"Fuck you, Punk," Jericho snapped, getting out of his seat. He stormed down the aisle and slammed the bathroom door behind him. His little tirade woke everyone except Zack, who could literally sleep through being tortured. Randy stretched in his seat and yawned. The Viper stood to his full height and went to the front of the bus, returning with the busses trash can. He shoved it underneath the door handle of the bathroom and kicked it in place with those deadly black boots.

"That should keep the douche contained," Randy murmured, shutting his eyes in hopes of going back to sleep. "Warning, do not feed the douche. You may get shit and pissed on, and bitten with those gnarly teeth."

Phil snorted once and stood up. His legs were starting to cramp. "What are we going to do about this?" Phil asked seriously, looking around at the men. They all looked back with blank expressions on their confused faces, which made Phil sigh slightly. "Any ideas?"

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Sheamus spoke in his thick Irish accent. "We can't call for any help."

"No cell reception, either," Christian put in, waving his Blackberry in the air briefly. "Nada on AT&T, T-Mobile, and Verizon."

"We could walk," Cody offered the conversation.

"Great idea, Cody!" Phil spoke with false enthusiasm, giving his hands a brief, condescending clap. "Except for a few things. One, it's pouring out. Two, we have no idea where we are. Three, have you looked at our surroundings? It's screaming horror movie."

Cody averted his gaze from the Second City Saint and huffed. Phil turned back to the men, who were waiting with expectant looks on their faces.

"Maybe the driver knows where we are," The Miz suggested.

"Take a gander at the bus driver, Miz," Phil spoke, a little sarcasm leaking into his voice. "He's crying because the bus broke. Do you really think we are going to get through his thick, emotional skull right now?"

"Guess not," Miz murmured, looking down and beginning to crack his knuckles.

Half the men gave up and decided to go back to sleep. This left Phil wide-awake with Sheamus, Christian, Cena, and The Miz.

"You think the doors of the bus work, Punk?" Christian asked, walking towards the front of the bus as he spoke.

"Yeah, just collide into 'em," he spoke, rubbing his tired eyes. "It doesn't matter if the bus is off or not."

Christian gave him a nod and sent his body crashing against the double doors. They opened quickly, and Christian fought to maintain his balance on the narrow steps. The sound of the wind whistling and rain pounding on the ground filled the bus loudly.

"Let's go take a look out here."

"No way, dude," Miz spoke, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "It's pitch-black, pouring, and creepy as shit out there. You have fun."

Christian shrugged once before looking at the men who were awake expectantly. Cena was of no help, as he was slowly drifting back off to sleep. Sheamus and Phil stood up and accompanied Christian outside. The wind instantly shot through their skin and nipped their insides. The rain slammed into their faces, blinding them on and off as they headed towards the front of the bus.

"Why are we out here?" Sheamus shouted over the wind and rain. The Celtic Warrior was shivering madly as he waited for Christian to finish examining the front of the bus. Phil stood behind him, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet to try and stay warm.

"It's no use," Christian yelled. "What little knowledge I have of engines is not working. We're screwed."

"Why don't we get back in the bus, then," Phil suggested, nodding his head towards the open doors. "It's terrible out here."

"We should walk a little bit to see if there are any signs around," Christian spoke, pulling his spandex uniform up to his hips again. Phil and Sheamus could either follow Christian or go back on the bus and listen to everyone bitch. The two champions followed the blond through the muddy, unpaved road.

"Did that driver purposely take us into the middle of nowhere, somehow knowing the bus was gonna give?" Sheamus wondered aloud, kicking clumps of mud from his boots as he walked. Phil's "Best in the World" t-shirt stuck to his body uncomfortably as he fought to keep up with the Intercontinental champion.

"I did not want to spend my night soaked to the bone, wandering through fucking Narnia or some shit," Phil complained. He kept his head down to protect it from the weather.

"Would you two stop bitching for two seconds so we could get our way out of here?" Christian snapped, looking behind at the two men. They avoided his intense glance until he started walking again. After about ten minutes of finding nothing but muddier road, Christian finally gave a defeated sigh and turned to face the other men.

"It's no use. We're stuck out here."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I could have told you that when the bus broke down."

"It's not like you had better ideas, Punk," Christian hissed. "At least I tried to get us out of this."

"Laurinaitis is going to have a conniption," Sheamus spoke. "Fourteen of his best men, including all of his male champions, are lost in the middle of nowhere with no means of contact to the outside world. To be honest, I'd rather be stuck out here than face his dumb fucking ass."

Despite the growing tension between the only sensible men in the group, they all gave up and laughed when they pictured the GM storming around, getting pissed because his top men weren't there to perform any of the upcoming shows.

"We might as well start heading back," Christian said, starting to walk back towards the bus. Their footprints lead them straight back to the desolate bus, and they climbed the steep steps while shutting the door behind them. The noise of the soaking wet men entering the bus didn't wake or disturb anybody. The three men sat near the front of the bus and stayed close together to discuss any ways of getting themselves out of the situation they were in.

"Anybody have the time?" Phil asked, looking down at his now-dead iPhone. He dropped it onto the seat and left it there.

"The bus clock says 1:03," Christian said, hitting his forehead against the back of his seat. "Why don't we get some sleep? Nothing will be accomplished if we're tired."

At that moment, the dim lights on the bus gave out. Everything turned pitch black. The only light in the bus came from the clock on the radio. Phil sat back in his seat and started to let his mind wander. He knew there was no way he was going to fall asleep. He barely slept, anyway.


A/N: Yeah, I know I left off a bit short and in between scenes, but I didn't want to give you too much too soon. Anyway, this is a new fic that I've spent the past few weeks writing. It's all completed, so updates will come quicker if there are more reviews. (I like reviews, okay? xD) Hope you enjoyed it thus far. I really went out on a limb here and tried to make it different from my other fics, and hopefully you'll agree when I say it is. Please Review! c: