As the night begins, the moon rises high into the sky to light up the grounds. Mankind is sitting alone pulling on his hair with one hand. The other is holding and lifting a rat.

“Everyone is trying to get me George! They all want to get Mankind! It’s so strange that they would pick on a guy like me. There’s nothing wrong with me, George! NOTHING!”

As Mankind begins to squeal, the reflection of moonlight reflects upon a steel chair before it swings forward and connects with the forehead knocking him out cold.


ELSEWHERE…

“You’re going to give him the title tonight, goddamnit!”

The abrasive voice of Vincent Kennedy McMahon breaks the darkness as Triple H and Steve Austin are sitting before him in two recliners. Austin is holding his title on his shoulder and is eyeing Vince with disdain.

“Tell me Vince. What would be better? The Rattlesnake loses to The Game on SmackDown or The Game triumphs over Rattlesnake at Summerslam?”

Vince leans back and ponders this as Triple H just nods.

“He’s got a point, Vinny. It’ll be a great angle if we can do that instead of tonight. I know you want to pop Smackdown’s ratings but this isn’t the way.”

Vince grumbles to himself. He leans forward about to open his mouth when…


The lights go out!


The sounds of shuffling and fighting is heard before one gunshot goes off. The sound of a large instrument being drug across the floor is heard.

A few moments pass.

The light comes on to reveal Triple H and Steve Austin are gutted. Vince is leaning back in his chair with a bullet through his head. Brain matter has scattered across the back wall and his chair. Standing in the room holding the gun is none other than The Godfather.

Shawn Michaels is the man who just entered the room carrying what appears to be smelling salts. Godfather looks at him and looks terrified to be holding a gun. He quickly fumbles the gun upon seeing Shawn!

“Whoa, HBSizzle! I didn’t bust a cap in his ass! I swear!”

“So uhh… you were just holding a murderous weapon then?”

“Yeah man!”

“Well in that case…”

Shawn rushes him quickly and nails a lightning quick Sweet Chin Music sending Godfather backwards and hitting his head on the bookshelf behind him. As he grumbles about his head and twists around, HBK approaches the dead Triple H and begins rubbing smelling salts under his nose. To no avail of course, HBK stands up and begins pondering what to do next. He snaps his fingers and takes a step back.

“I think I’m cute… I know I’m sexy… I’ve got the looks… That drives the girls wild…”

Triple H begins to stir at this ritualistic melody. He gets to his feet and is seemingly healed!

“Shawn…”

“Yeah Hunter?”

“…you’re not driving any girls wild, man.”

“Hunter… that just hurt my feelings.”

“Yeah… well I’ve got two words for you.”

“It sure better be ‘thank’ and ‘you.’”

The two friends hug as it fades to black.





ELSEWHERE…


The masked maniac is shown in a jail cell without his pet George. He’s sitting on the bench staring ahead as the light shines through the one window of the jail cell. It hits the floor about a foot away from Mankind. A shadowy figure is shown standing outside of the bars.

“Where is George?”

“Nuhuhuh! Not until you answer my questions.”

“WHERE IS HE YOU SICK FREAK!?”

“Whoa! Hold the hell up! Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Kurt Angle steps out of the shadows and towards the bars. He holds up his medallion.

“I’m a freaking gold medalist! You’re the sick freak in a cage because well… you know why.”

“Please just give me George back.”

“You want George back?”

“YES!”

“Here.”

Kurt Angle throws the rat into the cell and it scurries over to Mankind and climbs up into his lap. Mankind begins petting it.

“Now tell me what I want to know.”

“You’re going to have to come in here and get up close and personal if you want the info.” Mankind practically growls.

“Well I guess you don’t want Mr. Socko then…”

“Mr. –“

Mankind suddenly realizes that his favorite hand-sock was now taken from him. He grabs the bench and hurls it at the bars! It slams against them before sliding down.

“My, what big arms you have Grandma. You want your sock? It’s right there on the window sill.”

Mankind’s eyes turn to it as he leaps to the window from across the cell. As he enters the moonlight, he begins to change into a grotesque being with puffs of fur exiting the slits in his shirt from growing. His already unkempt hair begins growing even more and his face becomes a furry scene as the mask seems to be the only identifiable thing left. Mankind turns towards Kurt Angle and growls.

“YOU DARE TOUCH MY SOCKO!?! AWOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The Werewolf begins to howl in fury before lunging towards the bar.





















BLAM! BLAM! BLAMBLAMBLAM!

The Werekind begins laughing until he looks down and sees blood flowing. He wimpers before falling backwards in a heap. Angle spits into the cell as he puts his gun away.

“You bet your ass I have silver bullets. Only a Brit would have some knock off.”

END OF NIGHT TWO


DEAD - Steve Austin - Role Cop - Ghost Tank
DEAD - Vince McMahon - Tracker - Dick E.
DEAD - Mankind - Werewolf - Rev. Tholomew Plague



BEGIN DAY TWO!