I hate airplanes.

**

The line at security was long. Very long. It was bad enough airports were the worst place on earth to Hunter. He found it ironic, in a way, that on the ninth anniversary of 9/11, the airport was buzzing more than he'd seen it in a long time. Tampa International was one of the busiest in the country. Today, it seemed like the holidays with families running around crazy trying to make their flights. It was that nuts. He thought...theme parks have that pass you can buy to jump to the front of lines...

...airports should pick up on the idea.

In front of him was a family of Arabs. A mother, father, and small daughter, maybe six or seven years old. They seemed very happy and content with life. The father would kneel down and play with his daughter and she would giggle and hug him. Happiness. Bliss. Something Hunter hasn't felt in a long time. Family. Something he was starting to accept he may never have, again. So he would enjoy little moments like this where he got to live vicariously through strangers. It seemed pathetic but he didn't care. It was the smallest glimpse of peace he got right now.

It made him smile.

The father began tickling his daughter and she backed up and nearly tripped over Hunter. He reached down and caught her before she hit the ground. She quickly squirmed free and retreated back to her father. The Arab man chuckled and looked up at Hunter.

“Thank you, my friend. I'm sorry about the little one. She didn't see you.”

“It's no problem at all.”

Hunter shifted his bag on his shoulder. He extended his hand to his new friend.

“Hunter Ryan.”

The man shook his hand.

“Nohan Hazid. This is my wife Nora and my daughter Christina.”

Hunter shook Nora's hand and knelt down to Christina's level.

“Hey there. You okay? Almost took quite a fall.”

Christina bashfully stuck her hand out, hiding behind her father. Hunter shook it and stood back up. He looked ahead of them to see if the line had progressed. No luck.

“Can you believe this? Thirty minutes we've been waiting in this line. Security these days is ridiculous.”

Hunter had to agree.

“Absolutely. But, you know it's necessary to a degree.”

Nohan folded his arms on his chest and immediately looked interested in what Hunter had to say about things.

“How do you figure? Is it so dangerous out there? I mean, this country in all it's history hasn't had it that bad, has it? Thinking about what other countries around this world have been through and are still going through? Korea? My country. Don't you think you all have your own, domestic issues to handle rather than looking outside your walls at the problems other countries are having?”

Hunter seemed a bit attacked. He hated politics and didn't care much to follow them. But he did love his country and didn't much care for people attacking it...in any way.

“You have a point in there somewhere, I'm sure, Nohan. With all due respect, if someone walked into your house and punched your mother in the face, you mean to tell me you wouldn't return the favor?”

Nohan sighed heavily and looked over at his wife, almost expecting her to speak up. She stood there and tried to seem oblivious to the conversation.

“My country has been under so much scrutiny in the last nine years because your people seem to think every single one of us is strapped head to toe with the intention of blowing something up. I ask you, Mr. Hunter...do you think I'm strapped? Do you think I'm going to blow something up?”

A man standing next to them in line cleared his throat in that way you do when you're trying to make your presence known. Hunter found it quite rude. He turned to the man and figured he would acknowledge him as he wished.

“Excuse me, sir. You cleared your throat. You obviously have something to say.”

The man seemed a bit surprised Hunter approached him as he did. He took a step back and nearly tripped over the security rope.

“I, um...I was just over-hearing your conversation and it seemed a bit uncomfortable. I just don't think it's right to talk about such things in an airport nonetheless. People are paranoid enough in this country.”

Nohan pushed past Hunter and got in the man's face.

“You see that's what I'm talking about! Why the paranoia, sir? Why do you think everyone is out to get your country? Me, I'm an Arab and I have to say I have no interest in bombing anything. I love your country because it allows me to be free and come and go as I please in public. My wife, she has more freedoms here than she ever possibly could in our country. Why would I want to do harm to something that brings me and my family so much peace? I ask you, sir. Why?”

A few other people have begun to take notice of the scene in line. A couple of security officers have made their presence known. They have their eyes locked on them ready to end a struggle before it starts. The man turns away from Nohan.

“I didn't say you specifically, sir. But I don't have to explain my beliefs to an Arab.”

Nohan's face immediately turned red. Hunter could see a fight was about to break out any minute. Why did this always happen around him? He just wanted to board his plane, get to China, win his fourth United States Championship, and come home and celebrate, alone, with a nice scotch and cigar. But instead, he was about to have to intervene and prevent an enraged Arab from killing an ignorant American.

Figures.

Nohan took a step forward and knocked over a row of security rope. The security guards started on their way over and Hunter stepped in front of his new Arab friend.

“Take it easy, friend. This isn't worth a trip to jail. You and your family are no doubt on your way to some nice vacation and a good time together. Take a deep breath and realize this man isn't worth it.”

Nohan looks Hunter in the eyes and backs off. He takes a few steps back as his wife puts her hand on his shoulder to calm him. The security officers approach Hunter.

“Things okay over here?”

“Things are fine. Just a small bit of arrogance meeting a lot of pride. It's over now, officer. Take it back over to your corner and keep doing whatever it is they're renting you for.”

One officer takes offense to the comment and puts his hand on Hunter's shoulder, stopping him from walking back to the line.

“Excuse me, buddy. You can't talk to us like that.”

This amused Hunter. He chuckled and turned back to the guards.

“Speaking of the beauty of this country, the freedom of speech was always my favorite Amendment. So I will say what I want to who I want when I want because that's what makes me an American. So yes, I'm going to refer to the fact that you're a pathetic, lame rent-a-cop making less than a drive-through attendant at a McDonald's because well, it's how I feel about you. You, on the other hand, have to stand there and take it. Thank you, buddy. Have a nice day.”

He turns and walks back to his place in line. Nohan and his family are waiting for him. The line had moved a bit and Nohan had graciously carried Hunter's bag along for him as he had his little confrontation with the security guard.

“Mr. Ryan I appreciate you going to bat for me like that but -”

“Don't say 'but.' Really. I did you a favor because I'm not all for picking on minorities. No matter what political opinion someone has, it's not right to generalize people. As for the security guard, I actually had fun with that one.”

“Well all the same. Thank you, Mr. Ryan.”

“Call me, Hunter, please.”

The next fifteen minutes spent in line went by fast. The Hazid's and Hunter talked about any and everything else outside politics. Hunter explained to them who he was and was quite glad they hadn't heard of him. They didn't let their daughter watch violence on television and, with no disrespect meant to Hunter, they considered what he did unnecessary violence.

He couldn't disagree with that.

**

China was...crowded. With a population of over a billion people, a fan base was easy to pick up. Hunter had never been to China. So he took in plenty of the sights and sounds of the bustling streets. The crowded marketplaces and unique architecture. The thing he noticed, however was two things that seemed pretty consistent. One, Asians were significantly shorter than anyone else in the world. He struggled to find anyone taller than maybe five-foot six or seven. Two, they really did all look the same!

He loved Asians, though. Had nothing against them. They had...good food. Cool movies. And well...good food.

Hunter sat at a small Chinese market restaurant eating some amazing, authentic Tsu Chicken and rice along with an egg roll and some Saki. He was relaxed as he possibly could be and he loved every minute of it. No Amber. No attachments whatsoever. He was across the world and this was living. Being free of everything that burdened you. Knowing no one. Not worried about bumping into a long-lost friend who you still owed money to from years back.

He took out the envelope with the note that Cortez Hanley had left him after that assault a couple nights ago on Anarchy. He read it, for the tenth time. All four words of it:

“Consider me over you.”

Just four words. But it seemed like the loudest message of his life. Jodi was sending him a message loud and clear. Cortez Hanley wasn't a lawyer. He was a hired gun to take out an ex-husband who she couldn't stand because...why? Because she couldn't take the heat of being a professional wrestler's husband. That's the only logical answer. So, because she can't get over him, herself...she sends a man to do a woman's job. Most women return a box of stuff, Jodi sent a hit man to take him out.

He folded the paper up and stuck it back in his pocket. He finished his food and got up to throw away his trash when he stopped in his tracks. He swore he just saw a familiar face among the crowded marketplace. A face he'd just seen for the first time a few nights ago, but a face he couldn't forget if he tried.

Cortez Hanley was in China. He was sure he had just seen that man duck behind a vendor. He slowly made his way down the street and turned the corner where he swore he'd seen him. Empty. Not a soul. Just an empty ally with a few empty boxes and a dead end. He turned back to the street and looked around a minute longer before giving up and heading back to his hotel room.

The hotel was small and modest. Not the most glamorous he'd ever stayed in, but he made it that way. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. He slipped off his shoes and lay down in his bed to stare up at the ceiling and relax. Tomorrow was a huge night for him and he needed to clear his mind and get into the right mindset for it. He had to put aside Cortez Hanley and his wife. He had to focus.

But how was it possible to focus on a match when there would, no doubt, be this looming character standing in the back, waiting to ambush him at any moment. Before or after his match. During his match would be difficult seeing as he was going to be locked inside a steel cage with RJ Palmer and Vinic DuShane. A hellish environment, indeed. No doubt he would be beaten and bruised badly enough after his match. Prime advantage for Cortez to strike again.

He had to have his guard up and eyes in the back of his head. He most certainly couldn't let another attack happen before his match. He had to be 100% against the two men he was facing tomorrow night. If at all possible, 110% would be best. After the assault Thursday night, he was still feeling it a bit. He never thought he'd say this...but thank God for his brother. Nick was the reason he was still able to compete this weekend. Again, it pained him to say that. But, alas, it was the truth.

A nap. That's what he needed.

He checked the clock by the bed. It was just before two o'clock in the afternoon.. Lord knows what time it was in the states. He would never get used to jet lag and this time difference. How much longer was this World Tour, again? Yes, a nap is what he needed to clear his mind. When he woke up, he would work out, grab some dinner, relax in the sauna for a bit, then come back up and sleep. Rest up for one of the biggest matches of his career.

Yes. A nap was definitely needed.

**

One thing I find absolutely hilarious is arrogance. Another is ignorance. RJ Palmer has mastered them both. He's a brash, young talent who thinks he owns the world simply because he held the World Title early in his career for all of five minutes. He doesn't do his homework because if he did, he would realize how many errors he makes when sizing up his opponent. Watch much film, RJ? Do you give a damn about your career at all? Let me fix a few things for you. Maybe you'll understand how foolish you look.

You want to sit there and thrash me about having won multiple US Titles and Tag Titles. Yes, that's absolutely correct, RJ. Good job. I've won a few of those belts and, in fact, I'm looking to win my record fourth US Title. I know I've mentioned that fact quite a bit, and I know how much you hate broken records, but I figure I'd pound it home a bit more seeing as you aren't too quick on the up-take when it comes to your opponents resumes.

You go on to say that there are two belts higher than the US Title and that's why I shouldn't feel proud to have held it? I'm really getting sick and tired of your disrespect of this belt, RJ. Sorry that your tribal-infested, disease-ridden country doesn't have it's own belt in this business. But lay off of the US Title, will ya? It's not the top belt. No shit. But it, like any belt in this business, makes you a champion. You really want to disrespect a champion? You don't deserve to be one, yourself.

Oh, and by the way...just a little side note...I'm a former World Champion just like you numbnuts! So one of those two, higher belts you mentioned...I've held one of them. Man, that irritates me. Vinic made mention of it, as well. You really are in a world of your own, RJ. No one else exists except, well...the people you kill.

Vigilante, are you? Hired gun? Which is it, Palmer? Either way, you're a murderer and a monster. You make a living taking lives, no matter what their crime. You're a joke and a freak. What you do is pathetic and a means to no end, despite what you think. You have the ability to make a lot of money in this business, but instead you chose to risk it all by playing “Dog the Bounty Hunter” and getting your ass arrested one day because you're paid to kill.

Yes, RJ, I realize Dog isn't paid to kill people. It's the principal of the thing.

Another thing I'm tired of is you putting down legends. Like what you've said about Trent Gein. The man is legendary no solely because of his in-ring accomplishments, but because he revolutionized terror in this business. He and Famine of the Vile are two of the most feared men to ever lace up the boots and it's because of their sadistic nature. They both have held multiple top-tier titles and they deserve to be where they are. Famine may not be a legend, yet...but he'll be there one day.

You, RJ, will one day find yourself watching XWF broadcasts from a cold prison cell rather than a cozy locker room while you finish lacing your boots to get ready for your match coming up later in the night.

Finally, and then I'm so done with you, you really want to say you could have beaten me in that Xtreme Rules match had their not been weapons involved? Really? That just made you look like the biggest pussy in this business. You really feel that way, RJ? And you plan to beat anyone at a Pay Per View like Rage in the Cage? Let me tell you something about this match, bud. It's brutal. It's deadly. It's going to change your life and the way you look at your career. No matter who wins, no man walks out the way they walked in. Period. You're talking to a man who has been locked in his share of cages and walked out on both sides of a pinfall bloody and bruised either way.

Cut the shit, RJ. Cut the “Ryan Brothers are gay” jokes because they're older than a wart on a dead man's ass. Learn some respect and humility or better yet...don't. Because Vinic and I will have no problems beating it into you on Sunday. You're going to get the biggest wake-up of your life in China, my friend. A billion people in this country and if it takes a billion right hooks to get you to respect the two men in this match with you, Vinic and I will have no problems taking turns pummeling your Aussie ass!

Speaking of DuShane...

How's your father, Vinic? Still dead? As much as I loathe that dipshit, RJ Palmer, he makes a good point. All we hear about from you is how you mourn so much the death of your father. Are you looking for pity? Are you looking for a hand-out? You're not getting it here, my friend. As I said before, tragedy can kill you or make you stronger. How's my words sitting with you so far? In one ear and out the other, eh? Figures.

I hope and pray that you come correct Sunday night. This match could and will come down to the two of us, DuShane. It's the way it should be and you and I both know it. This prick disrespects the opportunity he's been given. Or earned if you ask him. You and I, we cherish these chances and live up to the hype surrounding them. The US Title has always been a prestigious belt to win and defend no matter how many titles there are below it. Any day of the week I'd be honored to hold it. It represents the business I love, the country I would die for, and the right to be called a champion.

China will be ready for us, gentlemen. Let's give them something to remember. Let's give them a match that blows the roof off that sold-out arena. RJ, I hope you bring it. Bring whatever you have because you're going to be in for the beat-down of your life if you don't. My sights are set on that fourth US Title reign. If I have to bleed you out to get it then so be it. After all, you're life is violence, RJ. A little blood should be nothing to you.

But a lot of blood...

...let's just say I hope you don't have any loved ones watching tomorrow night...