[indent][indent][indent][quote][color=D3D3D3]The camera panned out to show the capacity crowd gathered at Madison Square Garden, one of the last shows AWE was running before their biggest event of the year; the Showcase of Immortals. In the ring was a table with a black cloth over it, and a binder containing the contract to the main event of Starcade: Caiden Winters vs Drayden for the Undisputed AWE championship.

Sat at the table was long-time AWE fan favorite Drayden, dressed to the nines  in a dark suit. Falling to an injury almost a year ago now, Drayden had recently returned from the shelf. He shocked fans by returning to align with Roddy Quinn, the boss of AWE, who had been spending the time since Drayden’s injury trying to stop Caiden Winters’s meteoric rise. Unsuccessful on his own, Roddy had been forced to bring out the biggest gun he had: his ace.

Upon his return, Drayden had tried to explain things to fans who wouldn’t listen to him, or Roddy. Caiden wasn’t who they wanted as their champion! Caiden hadn’t even beaten Drayden for the title, he [b]wasn’t[/b] their champion. He was a fraud, a fake. Someone Drayden promised to personally expose.

The fans had rejected him. They didn’t want Drayden’s AWE anymore, they wanted the new one. The one ushered in by Caiden Winters. Caiden followed a long road to get to where he was now, holding the AWE world championship around his waist. After successful feuds against Roddy Quinn himself, Oscar O’Sullivan, and finally Gethin, Caiden Winters had built a level of groundswell support in AWE that hadn’t been seen in years.

When Drayden came back and insisted he would take that away because it was what the fans [b]needed[/b] even if they didn’t know it yet, and… they rejected him. The lights dimmed and [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OyO18QrJ3zw]music[/url] filled the arena. The sound of rabid cheering filled the atmosphere as the camera focused in on Drayden and the smirk that was on his lips in anticipation. His opponent had arrived.

The camera panned to the top of the stage as Caiden Winters finally stepped into the spotlight, to an explosion of cheers. He walked with purpose as he approached the squared circle, his eyes never leaving his opponent who was waiting for him in the ring. This wasn’t Caiden’s first contract signing on AWE television, and it likely wouldn’t be the last - but it was clear from the way he held himself this was the most important.

His first match in the company had been against Drayden, and Drayden’s last match before his injury and time on the shelf had been against Caiden. They’d competed for the very title that now rested on Caiden’s shoulder, the AWE championship. Even though he’d turned up short in the match, when Drayden had wound up on the shelf after their match, Caiden had openly boasted about being the one who put the Heart & Soul of AWE to rest. This wasn’t just a match for the title, it wasn’t even ‘just’ a match for the future of AWE. This was a blood feud.

Caiden stalked his prey, walking around the ring before even stepping up onto the apron. Rabid fans screamed his name, a prophetic warning for Drayden. ‘CAIDEN’S GONNA KILL YOU’ they screamed, and it had a visible effect on Drayden. The smirk dissipated on his face as he held eye contact with the circling Caiden and one of his legs bounced up and down restlessly. By the time Caiden had completed his lap and climbed the steps to get into the ring, Drayden was up on his feet.

The music came to a close as Caiden stepped past Drayden and reached through the ropes for a microphone. He took it and stood opposite Drayden in the ring, but neither of them spoke. They stood eye-to-eye in the center of the ring, and the aura of their hatred energized the fans.

‘THIS IS AWESOME
THIS IS AWESOME’

Caiden cupped the mic and lifted it to his lips, but his voice wasn’t the first heard by the viewers. [color=#1f71dd]“...I’m marking out bro.” [/color]Wade Palmer, the voice of AWE couldn’t help but let out a whispered reaction to the scene playing out in front of him. He’d been doing this for a long time, but was watching the feud of the decade unfold before him. He had the best seat in the whole damn show, sitting ringside behind the commentator’s desk every week for the showcase of the immortals.

As Caiden began to talk, the entire crowd hushed to listen to every word he had to say. [color=#5994e0]“I hate you.” [/color]He said it with such certainty that it was apparent the feeling may have transcended the performance. [color=#5994e0]“I hate the way you talk, I hate the way that you wrestle, I hate that you’re such a bootlicker for the boss. I [i]hate you[/i]. I hurt you, and I tried to keep you from coming back, but you couldn’t leave well enough alone.” [/color]He almost snarled it the second time he told Drayden he hated him.

[color=#5994e0]“That’s fine with me, because after I beat you one last time, I’ll set the record straight. I’m better than you. I know it, everyone in this arena knows and you know what? So do you.” [/color]He paced up and down the ring as he talked, ranting now. [color=#5994e0]“You had your chance to sit in your mansion in Pensacola and watch me be better than you ever were, but your pride couldn’t handle it, could it? You and your massive ego couldn’t stand this title on my shoul -”[/color]

[color=#ed4b15]“I hate you too.”[/color]Drayden finally spoke, cutting his opponent off and the immediate reaction from Caiden was palpable in his expression alone. His eyebrows furrowed, and it was obvious hot rage was bubbling inside the younger man. [color=#ed4b15]“I can’t stand you. I can’t stand that you spent your entire career in other companies, across the world, and thought if you finally came here you’d be entitled to it. And for what? For selling out bingo halls and high schools?[/color]

[color=#ed4b15]You can’t do this! You don’t have what it takes to carry the company, the business — you [i]don’t got it[/i]. Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think Roddy called me in the first place!? Because you can’t do your job!”[/color] Drayden snarled the accusations into the microphone. [color=#ed4b15]“You’re holding a belt [i]I never lost[/i]. If my knee hadn’t blowed ou—”[/color]

[color=#5994e0]“If your knee hadn’t exploded, these people wouldn’t be here because they don’t want you anymore!” [/color]Caiden was quick to respond, with words that apparently resonated from the fans based on the roaring reaction. His opponent moved the mic toward his mouth to respond again and Caiden stepped forward getting in his face. [color=#5994e0]“STOP. Stop, brotha. You emptied the clip, what more are you gonna say? That you work harder than me? While you were on the injured list for the past year, I worked twice as many matches as you did in the last five years. Didn’t miss a house show, didn’t miss a PPV. No days off, both shows.[/color]

[color=#5994e0]What did you do? You got on a private jet and went to talk shows to cry about how badly you wanted to get back in the ring. You went out there and you told Good Morning America that you’re the best wrestler in the world. You’re not going to convince the fans that you’re better than me, you’re not.” [/color]Taking a step back, he ripped the title belt off and held it up in the air. He held it at arm length, in front of his opponent’s face as the camera zoomed in on Drayden’s face. Hungry. Desperate to ‘save’ the company. [color=#5994e0]“This is a world championship, you’ve held it seven times. This is something people in our business work their entire lives, spill blood, sweat, and tears [i]just for a shot[/i]. And you know what?” [/color]He tossed it to the side of the ring.

[color=#5994e0]“[i]I don’t want it.[/i] And neither do you. I know what you want,” [/color]as Caiden spoke, Drayden furrowed his brow as his opponent spoke, but it was obvious in the air. Caiden Winters was onto something. [color=#5994e0]“Let’s rewind the clock to our very first match. My debut, do you remember it? I bet you do. The fans - your fans then - they were ready to watch you beat another indie darling down, huh? [/color]

[color=#5994e0]Let’s go Drayden, clap. clap. clap. They said. Drayden’s gonna kill you, clap. clap, clap. They said. But what did they say, when you were laying flat on your back on the canvas after I put you down for the one, two, three. What did they say?” [/color]He leaned forward again, this time getting in Drayden’s face. [color=#5994e0]“They didn’t say a damn thing.”[/color]

He pulled back as his opponent scowled, [color=#5994e0]“We fought again for that belt, and you won the match - but you didn’t beat me. That much was clear when they rolled you out of the building on a stretcher - what did they say then? It wasn’t your name was it?”[/color]

It was clear the cutting words were having the intended effect, as the other man seemed to be seething with rage. Caiden looked at him, daring him to respond, and Drayden picked the mic up to do just that,[color=#ed4b15] “talk is cheap.”[/color] He snarled, and the next events happened very quickly. The mic dropped down to the ground, and Drayden’s elbow flew toward Caiden’s face. It hit its mark, and the fight was on.

As the two superstars threw hands at each other, the camera very briefly panned to the top of the ramp where Dana Flynna the general manager and authority figure of AWE was frantically motioning for help to save her main event. Security guard and roster members poured down the ramp to pull champion and contender apart as their brawl spilled outside of the ring.

[color=#ed4b15]“I’LL KILL YOU!”[/color]

[color=#5994e0]“YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO!”[/color][/color][/quote][/indent][/indent][/indent]


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[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/nvXb0Bh.png[/img][/center]	

[right][b]Introducing: [color=d67433]Joey Everett[/color]
Timestamp: Some undisclosed time in the morning → Sometime after homeroom-ish[/b][/right]


[indent][color=A9A9A9]The video paused, Joey wasn’t interested in the rest of it. He’d have to have seen it a hundred times, but he liked it all the same. Having a famous person for a parent was weird at first, but as he grew up and realized the scope of his father’s stardom, he really started to get involved in the community. Joey was an avid forum poster, though he did his best to keep his connection to the business as quiet as possible. That was mostly out of respect for his father, who maintained a low public presence, even when he was champion.

Caiden Winters wanted a private life, and it wasn’t Joey’s place to ruin that. No matter how badly he wanted to correct the YouTube comments he scrolled through, Joey kept silent. It was hard to deal with the fact that people took wrestling so [i]seriously[/i] sometimes, but it was also exciting. In due time, Joey was hopeful he’d find his way into the family business. He wasn’t interested in being an in-ring performer, that didn’t really appeal to him. Joey didn’t really think he had it in him to work a match like his father had, but that didn’t mean his options were up.

He may not have had the drive to train and be the legacy of the best to ever do it (in Joey’s opinion, anyway)... but, writing the narrative? Creating the stories that drove people to think two men who couldn’t be closer friends backstage [i]truly[/i] hated each other? 

Joey could do that. 

That was his goal. Joey wanted to be the guy with the pen, the one in control of the narrative. He’d always liked writing, but it was only in the last year or so that he’d finally gotten exposure to the writer’s room of AWE.

It had frankly changed his life. The long term storytelling was beautiful in a way nothing else was to him, seeing the storyboards, reading the notebooks the head writer worked in… It lit a fire under Joey like nothing else had. It was one thing to write a movie or a TV show with a defined beginning, middle, and an end, but the ever evolving story told by professional wrestling was one of a kind.

It was a multi-step process, and Joey had a feeling he’d never hold the [i]final[/i] say in the game, but he just wanted a chance. He had originally assumed his father would be able to get him a job, but Caiden had outright refused. [i][color=#5994e0]You think I came up sleeping in the backseat of my car and working high school gyms just to raise a nepo baby? Not a chance.[/color][/i] It had slowed, but not ended his plan. Joey turned to studying, to make sure that he got into a respectable school, so he could get a screenwriting and creative writing degree, following in the same footsteps of the current head of AWE’s writing room.

Joey was sometimes jealous of other students at his high school, whose parents, often [i]more[/i] famous and wealthy than his wealthy and famous father, would give them money for whatever they wanted. Caiden was fairly firm on the idea that Joey would work for everything he had. And Joey had. Even the Camry he drove around when he absolutely had to had been paid for by the pocket change of his peers.

One of the few things he hadn’t paid for himself was his pet chameleon, Retribution. Retribution was named after his uncle, Blake Ryder, who had wrestled under the ring name Retribution. If Joey thought about it hard enough, the word ‘retribution’ was there enough that it became confusing, but that didn’t change his intention. Retribution was named Retribution as retribution on his father for refusing to buy him a dog.

Not that Uncle Blake was much better… who bought a teenager a fucking chameleon? Joey should have been more specific about it when he’d told him he wanted a pet. Blake had said he’d get his nephew anything he wanted, and Joey had essentially regretted not being more specific ever since.

Chameleons were high maintenance, angry, and they barely did anything. At first, Joey had been annoyed he’d gotten something so… [i]weird[/i] instead of something normal. Not even a turtle? Seriously? It took a lot of effort, time, and money to get a cage that was proper for the little dude, but after a while, Joey really started to enjoy it when Retribution did what Joey affectionately labeled ‘Chameleon Things.’

Mostly, Chameleon Things amounted to grabbing things, making funny expressions, and climbing on Joey like a tree. Joey looked up toward his hat, he saw the paw of a chameleon waiting for him on his forehead. He held his fingers to his forehead and Retribution slowly crawled from his spot on Joey’s head and onto his arm.

[color=#d67433]“Yeah, you’re right buddy. You gotta go back to your home.” [/color]Retribution’s home was a massive glass enclosure next to Joey’s desk. Joey snapped his laptop shut with his free hand and stood up with the arm holding his pet extended. He reached down into the enclosure and let Retribution climb onto one of the trees. [color=#d67433]“I have tutorings to do after school, so I won’t be back until later. You should be good, right?” [/color]He asked, checking the water dish in the habitat.

He nodded to himself and then left his bedroom with his backpack slung over his shoulder. Joey walked through the house his parents owned, and found that both of them still weren’t back. When he was younger, Joey had often gone on the road with them, but these days he found himself home alone more often than not. HIs parents' work required both of them to travel so frequently, that he didn’t feel it was an exaggeration to say he hardly saw them anymore.

Joey was a good kid, and he didn’t really [i]need[/i] supervision, so it worked out in the end. Even if he was a bit beat up about it at times, his parents were good at making sure they were present for the events that really mattered. Were they there at [i]every[/i] mathletes competition? No, but they were there when he made it to regionals. They were as supportive as they could be, given the situation.

In spite of the heat of Los Angeles, Joey made a point to wear his beanie on his head. If he hadn’t, his mother would have found out somehow, and she might have cried. At first, Joey had been stuck in the rebellious phase, thinking it a bit lame that his mother had taken the time to knit him a beanie that he could hardly wear given the weather where they lived, but after a while it had grown on him. The few friends he had now probably wouldn’t even recognize him if they saw him without it.

A year or so ago, Joey would have rode his skateboard to get to the school, but lately people had started assuming he sold drugs [i]just[/i] because he rode a board around Beverly Hills High. When two separate people asked on separate days if he was carrying anything, Joey had decided that it was time to stop, even if it meant his options were getting up early to walk to the school, or suffering through Los Angeles traffic.

The journey to school was long, and Joey was thankful that every day was another day closer to never having to do it again. It wasn’t the day-to-day classwork he didn’t like, but… Being a tutor for some of the people he worked with was genuinely concerning. Weren’t they supposed to be the future? Why did so much of the future struggle with fractions? Were their teachers bad at their jobs? Was it the fault of the parents? These were all questions that Joey had asked himself once or twice since taking up the tutoring job in his sophomore year.

Unfortunately, the tutoring sessions were part of Joey’s rhythm. At first, he’d wanted to do people’s homework for them, but that was something his father would have never approved of. And so, Joey became a teacher. He even reckoned he was a pretty good one, as most of his students found results, but it didn’t make it any more fun. One could only repeat Pythagoras' theorem about fifteen times before it became repetitive.

How many times had Joey explained the theorem now? Try five hundred. A part of him wanted to give up, but another part of him remembered how expensive food for Retribution was (seriously, why did bugs cost so much?), and another part still remembered how much money his peers had. That made it easy enough. He had to give his father respect where it was due… not being spoiled led to Joey having one hell of a work ethic.

Which was another reason why he was dreading school, and then work that day. With homecoming approaching very rapidly, someone would want him to go to the dance, to go to the party, even to the game. Joey didn’t want to do [i]any[/i] of those things, he was doing his best to stay focused on himself. If he didn’t get into the right college, it could throw everything out of equilibrium.

People who got to be ghosts in high school didn’t realize how easy they had it. Joey had long ago gotten into the habit of ‘hanging out with everyone.’ Regrettably, it was fairly easy to get along with anyone as long as you listened to what they had to say and offered the right responses — and it was [i]so[/i] easy to give the right responses on autopilot. If anyone asked him to go to the events, Joey would say yes before he could stop himself.

Before long, Joey found his way into his homeroom class. He was late, but not late enough for anyone to complain about, and sunk into his chair at his desk. At least he missed the Morning Show.[/color][/indent]