Vern roared with laughter as the pelts from the kicks landed against his steel cod piece.  Document protector, the wrestler had told him. Protects what shouldn't be bent, broken or mangled he was told. Vern wore it like a crucifix and even had it blessed by a coven of witches when the flight stopped over in Newark, New Jersey.<br/><br/>Document protector he'd told the security at the air port. He even dropped his drawers to show 'em and although a little old raisin in her wheel chair offered to pay if they would let him take it off right there they told him to pull 'em up and move along.<br/><br/>Something was thumping his chest. Vern focused on the two wailing on him. His hand going for the hair of one and the black T shirt at the nap of the neck for the other. Then he stood.  He rose up like a mountain with them both in a hand.<br/><br/>Killer Barbie was flailing her legs and Goth Commando Princess was still trying to push against him. It felt like rain drops. He'd been hit harder by snow balls, albeit, laced with rocks but still.<br/><br/>Vern gave 'em both a good shake. It was meant to get the kinks out. He scowled and looked from one to the other.<br/><br/>His voice like the last judgment, "Who wants to be first?"<br/><br/>He'd be gettin to the quiet ones pretty quick. Quicker than they might want.<br/><br/>