MVP CitiCorp Stadium, Arizona The locker room was emptying as the player's filtered away. The euphoria that came with the win was being tempered by the messages his body was sending his brain. Rod "Okie" Jackson picked up an ice pack and pressed it against his left shoulder as he shook his head. "Man, what a day." He muttered to himself. He held the pack against his shoulder for a few more seconds before putting it back down on the bench. Lifting his arms above his head he managed to discard the Under Armour padding that had absorbed most of the impact of the collision between himself and the San Diego Thunderbolt defensive end sometime around the mid way point of the third quarter. It clattered against the metal locker as he shed it from his body. Rod slumped down onto the wooden bench and leaned against his locker. His eyes closed for a moment as his mind recalled the events of the game - particularly those of the last few moments. As he opened them he saw the Alvin Rozelle trophy sitting on the bench next to him and a set of keys to a brand new Cadillac of his choice. He allowed himself to smile. He had just won the Super Bowl and had been awarded the most valuable player award. Replacing one of the cheerleaders had been straightforward. She had identified one who was a similar height, build and also had blonde hair, waited in her apartment and silenced her with a single shot to the head - after all, she couldn't risk damaging the outfit. Meredith got changed into the dead cheerleader's outfit and then scooped up her kit bag. If she did this right she'd be out of the stadium before anyone noticed the girl was missing. Wes Wierzbowski threw his kit bag onto the bus - as one of the less well-known players he didn't have the luxury of his own transport home. Still, he was happy to have made an impact - an undrafted, skinny white kid who had made the team against all odds had made a fingertip tackle to prevent a touchdown in the final minutes on a desperation play. As the bag landed in the luggage hold it was then that Wes realised that he'd forgotten something. His helmet was still in the locker room. He cursed his own stupidity as he trudged back towards the locker room. Rod placed the trophy on a table by the door before he turned back to pick up his kit bag. As he turned around he saw his path blocked by an attractive young woman. He thought he recognised her - wasn't she one of the cheerleaders? He thought to himself. She had a weird smile on her face as Rod looked at her. "Hey there," he said. "You know, normally I'd be up for it after a game, but I'm beat tonight baby - maybe we can hook up once we're back on the East Coast?" The answer to his question was delivered from the barrel of a silenced pistol. The bullet struck Rod in the leg; disrupting his balance and making him fall back against the lockers. He clutched the wound as the woman took a step towards him. Rod screamed obscenities at her as she cradled the pistol in her hands. "You cost Manny big time tonight Okie," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "He's really pissed." "Manny?" Rod answered between sharp intakes of breath. "Look sugar, I can make it up to him - I can get him his money - whatever he lost, I'll double it." "Double it? Really?" She answered. "Oooh, that's sounds good to me, but you made Manny look stupid in front of his boys - and you know what happens to people who make Manny look stupid." "Please baby, you don't have to do this - I'll pay you whatever you want, just don't do this." Rod pleaded with her as she pointed the pistol at him. "You know, that sounds great, in principle, although I'm not a fan of men who beg really," she mused, brushing the extended barrel against her cheek. "However, I don't want to upset Manny either - I'm not that stupid." She aimed the pistol at him again. "Still, at least you had a good game tonight, that's something to consider in the afterlife." Rod looked up into her blue eyes as she raised the pistol. It seemed like an eternity to him, although he definitely felt something in his bladder give as he stared at her. Another twisted smile crossed Meredith's face as she saw the effect she was having on Rod. She watched as he closed his eyes. "Aw," she muttered. "Poor baby." Rod opened his eyes and looked at Meredith. He locked his eyes with hers, intending to be defiant to the very end. Then he saw her icy blue eyes roll into the back of her head and her body slump to the floor like a puppet that had had it's strings cut. Rod gulped - and saw the diminutive figure of Wes Wierzbowski standing there with a shocked expression on his face. "I...I forgot my helmet." Wes said as Rod saw the blood on the silver football helmet in Wes' hand. The Police took Meredith away as Rod sat on the gurney with the EMTs tending to his wound. He looked around as he waited for his lawyer to turn up - the events of tonight had convinced him to come clean about his gambling habit. As they began to wheel him into the ambulance, he saw a skinny kid walk past. "Hey, cornbread!" Rod called out. Wes looked up and saw him beckoning him towards the emergency vehicle. As he reached it, Rod handed him the keys. "When I get out of hospital you're coming with me to Disneyworld." Rod said as the rookie took a second to take in what it meant. The doors to the ambulance closed and the vehicle drove off with its lights flashing. "Wow," Wes said. "I'm going to Disneyworld."