I don't have time to write another fic when literally Yours to Hold is my number one priority. But I can't help it! This idea came to me at work today, and I've been silently writing this in my head all day so fuck it, let's do it.
That being said, I've deleted some of the stories I don't feel are up to par or I've outgrown as a writer. I'm sorry, fam. In any event, I'll provide with a full summary for those that are lurking as it didn't fit in the little box FF. This is going to be a fun ride, and I can't wait to be the driver for ya'll. Love you's!
SUMMARY: As WWE watches their ratings slide week to week, WWE Creative is in a bind. Where do they go when nothing seems to work? The Divas Revolution has fallen started to deflate, and the talents they thought would work out just...haven't been. They finally decide it's time to introduce a character fans have been vying for since the beginning of the Wyatt Family: Sister Abigail. They scout high and low for the woman that should play her, but come up empty-handed. That is, until Triple H catches wind of the issue and has the perfect person in mind.
Former indie wrestler, Chara Wright, opted to retire from the business at a mere 26 years old. Physically, she was golden. Mentally, she was destroyed. From Ring of Honor to the short stint in TNA, Chara is untouchable and uninterested. She knows better than to go to the big leagues, where everyone knows what she did. Where some of her old buddies are now. Where...he is.
A/N: I decided to use in ring names mostly to avoid confusion. Here she goes!
July 6, 2016: Bridgeport, West Virginia
"Jesus," Chara grumbled as she got her ass up off from her couch to answer the incessant pounding on her heavy wooden door. She was busy, man. The newest season of Orange is New Black had her mouth hanging open for pretty much the whole bit. How she hadn't noticed it had been added to Netflix was beyond her. Giving a quick pet to her black cat, Gypsy, who lay stretched out on the coffee table, she shuffled towards the heavy door which, unfortunately, did not have a window to peek at the rude, interrupting asshole that thought they were ever-important.
So, she slightly opened it, peeking around the corner. Her mouth turned upward in a knowing smile, and she shook her head. This was fucking nuts!
Rather than invite the older gentleman in, she began to close the door, making it clear she had no interest in talking with him. But he wasn't taking no for an answer, weaseling his hand between the frame and pushing it open, causing her to spring backwards as he now stood in full-view.
He looked much older than Chara recalled, though still a rock-solid body played underneath his gray sweater. It looked expensive...probably cashmere or some other material that richie-rich folk like himself would shop for. His hair was shaved, but his beard was beginning to gray with time. His eyes were tired, and she wondered how long he'd traveled to get to her. She wondered why he'd even bothered.
"Well, well," she clicked her tongue, folding her arms across her chest. "Check out what came crawling to my front door." She stood apprehensively, using no manners whatsoever and not allowing him to past the front hall. She wanted him gone. She wanted to crawl back on to her couch and snuggle under the blanket Mickie James had made her when she'd gotten knee surgery.
"Chara," the man responded with a quick nod. He was standoffish, too; the pair watching each other and sizing one another up curiously. She had half a mind to threaten the cops on him, yet she couldn't help but be intrigued by his persistence. With a defeated sigh, she gave a harsh eye roll, finally dropping her hands and motioned for him to come sit at the granite counter that jutted like a bar in the center of her condo's kitchen.
He grinned, pulling out one of the bar stools before he pulled up his dark, perfectly pressed jeans before sitting. She wondered if he thought that he was dressed down, given that he normally wore expensive suits and ugly ties during business interactions of any sort.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the top shelf of the refrigerator, offering it to him. He took it, and she cracked herself open a Bud Light.
"What? I feel like I'll need it for this conversation," she responded, noticing the surprised look he wore etched on his face. He shrugged, and she sat across from him, taking a sip and relishing as the ice cold amber liquid slid down her dry throat. Neither of them spoke for a long period of time, and each of them avoided locking eyes.
"So," she said finally, irking one of her eyebrows up. "Is this normal for you? You call a million times, get no answer, and then show up to the prospect's house unannounced?"
The man gave a gruff laugh, shaking his head. "Chara, I am well-aware that you don't think you have any interest in the WWE. I know you believe you've hung up your boots. But I've got to try."
Chara laughed at him. Legitimately laughed. "Oh, Hunter. You're a funny man."
"It just so happens we've got a real, solid offer that would be silly of you to refuse."
Chara shook her head. "No way. I left on a sour note. I don't have the itch to get back into the ring. I'm getting old, and besides...you've got a really nice thing going right now. Becky Lynch? Charlotte Flair? Sounds to me like you've got it covered. Besides, I really don't need the WWE."
Hunter tapped his fingers against the countertop, as though considering her words. "Perhaps not. But to be honest, I think that the WWE is going to need Alyx," he used her ringname strongly, knowing that it would catch her attention. That name held such an awful connotation with it that she had hoped nobody would ever utter it again.
"Ah, I see that caught your attention," Hunter smirked, knowing he'd struck a nerve. "You can't keep running forever, Chara. You've got grade-A talent. You've been everywhere, except with us. You ought to show the world what you can really do."
"What's that? Show off my tits, fake a love story? Really, Trips, I'm not interested. I know exactly the stupid shit the WWE does with their talent."
"I understand that jeer, Chara. I do. But I personally have appointed Mick Foley and his son, Dewey, to write this angle for Smackdown. It's a good one, and I can promise you that much. I'll tell you about it, if you'd like. But it's a rather deep, complex storyline. I think you may have interest in that part. Not to mention, it's very, very advanced writing and would take a skilled person to pull off something like this. Which is why I chose you."
After a little more protest, Chara agreed to hear out this big, shining idea that Hunter had. She listened as he explained the involved characters, some folks she knew and some that she didn't. It was dark, twisted, and chilling. It was everything that Alyx wasn't.
"Why me?" she asked after he'd explained who she'd be working with and a general idea of how long they'd run the angle for. "Don't you think that I've ruined enough lives?"
Hunter gave a small, sad smile. "You haven't ruined anyone's life. At least, not yet. But the longer you sit at home and dwell on the things that you can't change, the quicker you'll ruin your own. You have so much untapped talent, and you and I both know that. You say you've done it all, but you haven't. You haven't been in front of a Wrestlemania crowd. You haven't gotten the paycheck you deserve. You ought to be a household name. You're good enough, so be with the best." That last statement sent shivers down her spine, and he extended his hand to shake hers, as though they were closing on a business deal.
She ignored his outstretched hand, standing quickly to toss her now empty beer bottle into the recycling bin. "I don't know, man. Also, how in the shit did you find me here?"
Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "People talk," he said simply. Chara kept almost no connection to anyone from the wrestling world, so that meant it was either Mickie James or...
Nah, couldn't be.
"Exactly," she responded, still ignoring the motherload of all offers. "People talk. And I know damn well the giant albatross I've got around my neck, weighing me down!"
"That was a long time ago...I think everyone's over it. And besides, a life-event like that is good for a character, even if you don't like it. Just look at what it did for Edge's career..." Triple H continued talking, and she listened with no real, genuine interest about two people she didn't know. Oh, sure, she'd heard the story.
"Now, what do you say, Miss Wright?" She snapped back to reality, now realizing he'd finished his short stroll down memory lane. Damn, this guy sure was a pushy dude.
She sighed heavily as she returned to her stool, burying her head into her hands. "I hear what you're saying. The storyline is...well, I don't hate it. It's everything that Alyx would hate. Miss Priss," she said nasally, rolling her eyes at the stupid nickname the fans had given her final character during her Ring of Honor run.
"Exactly. You don't need to pretend to be something you're not. You're sad, and you've changed. But that's not always a bad thing."
"So I would go to developmental, correct?" she asked, smoothing her half blonde, half black and ridiculously trashy-looking hair along her muscled shoulders. "Straight to NXT, shake it up a little bit there?"
"For a month. Only to get acquainted with the WWE style of wrestling, because as you know, it's much different than that what you're used to. It's crisp, clean, and flows...at least, it should. You're not going to be hitting your opponents with a bag of syringes on our promotion," he warned her, taking a cheap shot at something her character had done to the fairly well-known TNA anti-diva, Daffney.
"That was a storyline!" Chara argued. "Daff was supposed to be into drugs, and it was supposed to be funny!"
Hunter shook his head. "I know what they were trying to do," he said matter-of-factly. "But it's not funny, and it's no surprise that a moron like Dixie Carter would think it was a comedy show. I've lost friends to drugs, you know." He took a long pause, as if reminiscing. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "In any event, the storyline we'd like you in is mature, and we need it done properly. If it's not, then it's just silly. 'Supernatural' is a hard story to tell, but I know you can do it. You've got the in-ring skills to make this work. I've seen what you put on in Japan with Asuka."
"But the character is so far from what I'm used to," she argued, feeling herself losing this battle. She had ignored the name-drop of Asuka, her hardest opponent she'd ever faced. It was flattering, in a way, that he'd actually done some homework on her past. Yet, it was unsettling; she had sworn up and down that she'd never sell out to Vince McMahon or to WWE. She knew better than to run with that company after she did the unspeakable things that she'd done, hurting everyone that gave a flying fuck about her in the process. People that she'd never spoken to knew what she'd done. Shimmer Wrestling had cut her after a week, despite her being the most advanced on the all-women roster.
She just was...a social leper. She often told herself and anyone that would listen that she'd opted for early retirement because she had hurt herself. Truth was, she couldn't handle the whispers. She couldn't handle the hate. The fact that people took sides. The fact that everyone took his side...and rightfully so.
"I agree with you there. The snob that had the rich dad gimmick was one that you played out for so long, that it's no surprise that you feel it's become you. But maybe leaving Alyx in the rookies is what we ought to do here. You've lived your life a little harder now, and the blonde sweetheart that everyone used to see is long gone. Yeah, you've got the wrestling down. The character, though...you're halfway there. Instead of be someone you aren't, why don't you dig a little deeper and be the person that you've become? You've got a chip on your shoulder. You've changed because of it. Why not release that, and show the world who Chara is?"
Biting her lip, Chara closed her pretty green eyes before speaking again. "Chara is dead inside," she responded, immediately wishing she hadn't. It was too much of an admission. Yet for some reason, she couldn't stop speaking. "She left when he did," she said quietly, hating that she'd opened up as much as she did to someone with such prestige.
Hunter beamed at that, though; his eyes lighting up. "And that's exactly why we need to light a fire on Smackdown. We need a good, solid heel character to put up against Becky Lynch. Sure, we've got Alexa Bliss, but she's still very much developing her in-ring skill. Natalya is interested in jumping ship to Monday Night. So, we've got room for you there to do something that no other woman has been able to."
"What if the fans don't have interest in me, though?" she asked, pointedly. "If it all falls flat, then what?"
"Chara, you were trained by AJ Styles. He's easily considered one of the best, if not the best, wrestler in the world."
"Yeah, I'm aware," she snapped, hating that she was still linked to her trainer in such a way. But she'd done that to herself.
"My apologies," he said quickly, a slight flush on his cheeks. "I know it's not easy-"
"Carry on, and make it quick," she demanded, "You've already been hanging around longer than I'd intended to hear you out for."
"The fans will care about you because you were trained by one of the greatest in the world. That in itself is proof that your wrestling style will back you up. This character will take time to develop, but in the mean time, at least you're no pussy in the ring."
Grumbling, Chara finally asked the details of this pending contract.
"Friday, I'll set you up with a flight to WWE Headquarters. We can hammer out monetary details and creative differences there. I'll have Talent Relations get hold of you tomorrow, and we'll get this ball rolling in the right court. What do you say, now, Chara?" His massive hand extended outwards once again, a look of desperation settling in his eyes.
Defeated, she muttered how it was going against everything she'd believed in; that WWE had ruined the art of wrestling and creativity. But...the possibility of being a real ground-breaker hung over her head like a rain cloud. She could do much more than she'd ever thought possible for the sake of women's wrestling with an opportunity of such magnitude.
She took Triple H's hand in her own, giving it a small shake. She felt like she'd actually just done a deal with the devil, and she idly wondered if earlier in the year, AJ Styles had felt the same. He, too, had always relentlessly avoided Vince McMahon and his henchmen. He'd been very particular with his talents and where he would align himself with.
Before heading out the door some time later, Hunter turned to look at her in a serious matter. "I'm putting every ounce of faith I've got in you, Chara. Please don't do me wrong on Friday. Don't opt out, don't make me look like an asshole." He was panicky, almost; and she realized that to him, this was something of dire importance. And although she wasn't particularly fond of the NXT forefather, she had immense respect for the things he'd done for the business itself, including bringing some of the greatest in the world to the largest wrestling promotion in history just so the world could see and respect the things the non cookie-cutter men and women were doing inside the squared circle.
"I won't," she said dryly.
"Also, please dress up for the business meeting. I know I caught you at home, so it's acceptable to wear sweats. But I don't think Mark will be as kind to your choices."