Bret Hart was confused. Shawn was absolutely paranoid of falling asleep. He could imagine him not wanting to sleep... After all, he was forced into a dress and was nearly assaulted by the Undertaker, Hunter, Christian, Edge, and Jericho. Not to mention Eric Bischoff and Nitro. He decided to take matters into his own hands after a week had gone by with out him sleeping.

"Where are we going?!" Shawn asked as he slurped down a large cup of espresso.

Bret stopped the car in front of a strip club, put his hand on Shawn's violently shaking knee. "We're going to a place where you can burn off all that artificial energy."

"No no no no! I can't fall asleep! No! NOOO, they'll get me Bret! They'll hurt me and rape me and make me be a bunny!"

"It was just a dream, honey!" Bret protested though in vain. "Shawn... Please, I'm worried about you..."

"Okay okay okay, I'll try and relax, relax, try and relax..."

Bret sighed and took the espresso away. "No more espresso either. You're hyper enough without it!"

"My coffee...." Shawn whined loudly, reaching in vain for his cup as Bret threw it away. "Oh a strip club!" He exclaimed and started bouncing in place. "I LOVE strip clubs! I can dance and take off my clothes, show off my booty..."

Bret irked at that last comment. "There will be no 'booty' showing tonight. You're going to watch, have some drinks, and calm down..." At least he hoped he would calm down... He couldn't take Shawn's caffeine high for one more moment.

"You're SO mean." He protested and crossed his arms.

"So I am. You've driven me crazy for the past week with your inane ramblings, now we're doing what I want." He led Shawn inside of the club, taking a seat in the back. He ordered them two drinks, stroking Shawn's hair in attempts to calm him down. Bret had eventually clamed him down enough for him to get him purring happily. The waitress sat their drinks down, and before Shawn could see, Bret had stuck a few knock out tablets into his drink. They were incredibly mild- he figured that due to Shawn's lack of sleep they'd kick right in. "Here baby, drink up."

Shawn took the glass eagerly, gulping it down instantly. "Mmm.." He murmured giving a small yawn.

"That's my honey." Bret grinned and felt very proud of himself.

"I..." He paused and yawned a little more. "I wanna dance up there..."

"Stay here and watch back here with me." Bret said, rubbing his cheek against Shawn's soft blonde hair.

"I wish I was a stripper..." Shawn mumbled almost incoherently as he watched the people on the stage. "Or be a secret agent stripper like Stripperella..."

"Honey, Stripperella is cartoon." Bret said as he looked down at Shawn amused. He knew Stripperella was definitely Shawn's favorite show to watch, whether it had to do with the act of stripping or the comedy, he didn't know.

"But she's still cool.. If I was Stripperella, I bet they couldn't have made me.. into a.. bunny.."

"Mm." Bret murmured in response. "If you were Stripperella, I doubt I'd let you leave the hotel room." And with that Shawn's head fell into his lap, the younger man emitting soft sounds of a happy sleep. Bret was so relieved he thought he would cry. He gathered Shawn into his arms, leaving money for the bill, and whisking him away to the hotel. "Good night. baby." He murmured smoothing down his dark blonde hair. Bret wondered vaguely what his lover could be dreaming about under a hefty dose of medicine, but brushed it off. Hopefully, what ever it was going to be, would be peaceful.

~In the peacefully sleeping mind of the Heartbreak Kid~

Shawn Michaels was grinding up against the pole in the middle of the catwalk in nothing but a pair of shredded up jean shorts, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat. It was during the off hours in the afternoon where most of the strippers employed at Mounting Pleasures spent time practicing their routine.

"Hey Michaels, would you quit that, I'm trying to watch the news over here!" Bret shouted to him. It wasn't was if he didn't like watching Shawn dance around on a pole, the threads of the jean shorts straining against the round flesh of his ass. "They're showing the Heartbreak Kid again!"

Shawn hopped down from the stage and walked over to the bar where Christian, Hunter, and Bret were staring at the monitor. He hopped on the bar stool with a knowing smile on his face.

The newscaster was standing in front of a large crowd of people watching as two criminals with boot prints on their faces were carted away in police cars. "Earlier this afternoon, the mysterious crime fighter known as the Heartbreak Kid stopped two armed and dangerous robbers. If it wasn't for the quick feet and no holds barred attitude, those two men would have made off with well over a million dollars in cash from the first national bank. While some officers are linking this crime to mafia leader Eric Bischoff, we at Channel 2 News would like to personally thank the Heartbreak Kid for a job well done!"

Shawn looked pleased with himself and sipped from a bottle of water.

"Damn, that Heartbreak Kid is something else." Bret said with a sigh.

"You have a crush on HBK, Bret?" Hunter asked and elbowed him. "I know I'd like to bone him." He said glancing over to Shawn. He knew his long time friend was the Heartbreak Kid, who didn't?! Unless Shawn had an identical twin running around in chaps, which he didn't, he had to be. They even had the same god damn tattoo!

Shawn made a face. "Oh EW Hunter. Just because you're pretty smart and well off doesn't mean I- er HBK would ever want you to bone me- I mean him."

"I would love to meet him some day." Bret said a little absently as he stared up at the monitor. "Even if it were just for a mere minute."

Man this sucks! Shawn thought miserably. He was so in love with Bret, but all the other man would talk about was HBK- his alter ego. It was torture! "You know, some people say I look like the Heartbreak Kid."

Christian rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Well some people do drugs."

Shawn ignored him, going over to where Bret was standing. "Hey Bret...?"

Bret looked to him like brother would see his younger siblings. "What..?" He asked uninterested. "What do you want?"

"I got tickets to the premier of The Grudge... Do you want to go with me..?" Shawn rocked back and forth on his heels as if he was waiting for Christmas presents. "I'd really like your company."

Shawn was cute, Bret had to admit it. But he was as young as his youngest brother Owen- whom he was seven years older than. And as much as he liked watching him get up there to take all those cute outfits off, that was just it. He was cute. He had pretty blue eyes and hair the color of dark honey- but when Bret saw the Heartbreak kid for the first time, he knew that was true love. "Look Shawn, you're a nice kid. But you're just not my type. You're adorable, really. Plenty of guys like you, and yeah I like you as a friend. But that's pretty much it." He had to get Shawn off of his back, then he could concentrate on finding his one true love- The Heartbreak Kid.

He felt like crying and almost did so. "Oh.. Okay... Maybe Edge wants to go then." Shawn said forcing a smile. The only thing that brought him out of it was his vibrating heart shaped belt buckle. He put his hand over it and ran to the bathroom. He unclipped the buckle and opened it up to reveal a cleverly disguised cell phone. "Hi Ric." Shawn said a little glumly looking to his second boss, Ric Flair.

Ric had been the city's last vigilante guardian from 1971-2003. When he retired last year, he found the perfect substitute in mild mannered stripper, Shawn Michaels. All that perfect muscle in those pretty long legs were going to waste with him twirling around a pole in some seedy strip club. It wasn't exactly easy to do, Shawn could be an air head at times, but he was a good kid. And pretty smart when it came to being out in the heat of battle. "Don't sound so happy to hear from me. Why do you look so sad- are you crying?"

Shawn sniffled and brushed his tears from his eyes. "Bret keeps turning me down for me!"

"There's something wrong with that kid." Ric sighed, Shawn's only downfall was that bartender... He worked so hard to get him to the level he was at, but Bret Hart was threatening the whole existence of the vigilante system! "Bret's a loser, alright? You have bigger things to worry about!"

"You mean Eric Bischoff?" Shawn sniffed and rubbed at the corner of his eyes.

"Yeah, you know. The man who has single handedly has hold of the whole entire underground crime system. No big deal."

"Really?"

"No, dumbass!" Ric barked. "I was being sarcastic!"

"Sorry! I've had a rough evening! Now, what's up Ric?" Shawn asked and sighed.

"The boys down on the street told me Bischoff's got a shipment coming into the harbor tonight. You need to be there to intercept it."

"Uh huh. So what are they shipping?"

"Something from the Mediterranean. Most likely opium, so be on your guard. And make sure to stop by headquarters to "

Shawn nodded vigorously. "You bet, HBK out!" He said and shut his belt buckle. Ric's right, I don't need Bret. He is a loser! Shawn smiled reassuringly, adjusting his shorts and his little shirt. He flicked the brim of his cowboy hat, winking at himself in the mirror. He was the sexiest thing on two feet in his mind, and that's all he needed to know. There was no time to linger anymore, he had to get out to the harbor before that shipment did.

The door to the bathroom burst open, and there was the owner of Mounting Pleasures himself, Paul Heyman. Shawn made a face at him and his sweaty bald held. "Shawn! You gotta go out there!! We have a very important and DANGEROUS client out there who wants a lap dance, ASAP!"

"But Mr. Heyman! I.. I have to go home, I left my... my um... Hair dryer on!"

"......GET OUT THERE!"

Shawn pouted- The last thing he wanted to do was go out there and shake his ass for some one Heyman may owe money to. But he went out there, sulking the whole way. He spotted the man and walked over to him with a huge frown on his face. The blonde could barely see his client; he was so immersed in the shadows. "Welcome to Mounting Pleasures, I'll be your lap dancer- Shawn Michaels." He said blandly.

"Well now... Aren't you a cute one..." The man pulled out of the shadows, flashing a white toothy grin.

"Eek! Eric Bischoff!" Shawn gasped and jumped back.

"Oh, ya heard of me eh, cutie?" He gave him a toothy grin, rubbing his thighs eagerly.

Shawn quickly knocked his hands away and frowned nervously. "Well I...I... Yes, I have." He said, not wanting to lie.

"Do powerful men turn you on...?"

"Nope." Men like Bret turned Shawn on. Hardworking fellows who live for the hope and dream of becoming some one important. Bret's was becoming an actor- Shawn made sure to always be there at every play he stared in, in the front row as always. "Sir, I'd really like to give you your dance-"

"Oh you little minx; you are turned on by me aren't you! Well you go ahead and dance for me..." He smiled and smacked him on the side of his thigh.

Shawn made a face, this was just too weird. Not only did he have to give his greatest enemy a lap dance, but he was going to be late to stop his shipment of illegal goods! He started swaying his hips back and forth, snapping the sides of his thong and licking his lips at Eric. He braced his hands on the side of the chair, plopping down into his lap. He pushed his ass down further and further in Eric's crotch. Shawn was glad he had his back facing his enemy- just the beginning hard on he felt pressing between the flimsy material of his jean shorts was starting to disturb him- he didn't need to see the passion on his face. Shawn stood up quickly before Eric got any ideas, bracing himself on his knees as he shook his backside in front of Eric's face.

"Oh yeah, baby! Just like that!!" Eric groaned, grabbing Shawn by the hips to spin him around. He caught him by the back of the head and shoved him down. "You're perfect, sweetheart... You interested in being my little baby?" He asked stroking Shawn by his long hair with his free hand.

"Sir, please I-" Shawn stammered and attempted to pull away. If Bischoff knew who he was, he wouldn't be trying to kiss him at the moment.

"Shh.. Don't think. That's not your job..." The dark haired man hissed and pulled Shawn against his lips, ramming his hand down the back of his shorts groping his ass greedily.

Shawn gasped, loosing control of himself as he pulled away and gave Bischoff a quick swift kick in the jaw. He dashed out the door, leaving one dazed mob boss on the floor.

~

The HBK cycle tore down the empty city streets, as Shawn- now in full Heartbreak kid gear- sped off for the harbor. His long hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, with a chappy hat adorning the top of his head. His shirt had long sleeves, and was shaped in a triangular fashion, with a diamond shape in the middle cut out. His abdomen was showing up to his cute belly button. Four chains hung down from the front ends of the shirt, attaching to the belt of his chaps. Underneath he wore a pair of tights proudly proclaiming his HBK heat symbol on them.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! He thought miserably the waterfront came into better view. Eric Bischoff groped him violently, kissed him- and wanted him to be his baby. Now why couldn't stupid Bret do that stuff?!

He parked his cycle behind some crates in back of the wharf where supposedly Eric's shipment was coming in. Extending the climbing hooks enclosed in the tips of his cowboy boots, Shawn scaled the side of the slightly crumbling building with ease. Slipping inside of a window and on to a narrow catwalk, he glanced down at what he saw in the slight dark of the building.

A few bumbling henchmen trampled into the lower level, directing a fork lift with a huge wooden crate on the prongs.

"Hey, hey, hey! Watch it! Bischoff's super secret special shipment's in there!"

Yep- that had to be it. How many Bischoff's in this area were having secret shipments coming in tonight, after all? Shawn pulled the whip from off the belt of his chaps, whipping a beam near the center of the room to swing down. He swung gracefully toward the fork lift, landing on top of the crate. "Hold it right there! This shipment's not going anywhere!"

"HBK!!" They shouted reaching into their holsters for their guns. But before they could draw them, Shawn leapt down from his perch, nailing them in the necks with a double flying clothesline. He snatched up their guns, pointing it at them.

"You in the forklift! Come on out!" He shouted ready to shoot if need be.

The man inside ran from the cab and toward the entrance. Shawn made a face- It was alright if one got away- he'd catch him eventually. Sighing he tied up the two he had, leaving them for the police. Resting up against the crate, Shawn pulled out his heart shaped belt buckle communicator and called headquarters. They had to get whatever it was out of here fast.

Read chapter Two of Three