A/N: Well, this is my first time posting a wrestling fic. This first chapter is sort of an introduction to it all and a way for you to see my style of writing. I understand it's not for everyone, but I hope you enjoy none-the-less. Also, I know it's a rather short chapter but I hope to get them decent sized as the plot thickens. Oh! And review please! I leave you to your reading. ;)
Generically Comfortable
It was right after the cameras had finished rolling and the buzz backstage was slowly dulling down to a soft hum. The Raw Superstars were all in their respective dressing rooms, and the 'mid-carder's' and 'jobbers' were making small talk in the locker room. Fans were gradually making their way out of the arena; they were all chattering away about this wrestler or that match. It was a normal day in the life of the WWE. A well oiled machine, everything was planned out to the very last detail. To call wrestling fake is to demean the hard work done behind the scenes. Hours upon hours are put into setting up and choreographing the intricate dance that is a WWE spectacle. Whether it be at Raw, Smackdown, or the baby brother, ECW, everyone who works on said projects put their time and effort into making the fans happy.
On Raw, everyone knows who the big names are: Batista, Randy Orton, HBK, John Cena, JBL, and the irreplaceable Chris Jericho. All loved or hated at any point in time, their storylines capture the interest and imaginations of all those who let themselves be caught up in the action and drama. Little do fans know though, that sometimes the wrestlers themselves get wrapped up in the webs the McMahon's weave for their stars.
Y2J, as he is called by the masses, sat in his dressing room when a knock knock knock, came at his door. Heaving a sigh, the tried Canadian arose hearing his right knee crack loudly. He hissed under his breath a soft curse. The main even match that night had consisted of a Handicapped match with himself against, oddly enough Orton and Batista. The former Evolution buddies had obviously ended up going to blows, but that did not mean Jericho had gotten off easily. Obviously, the match had been practiced before and choreographed to the T, but he had fallen wrong, and it was all it took to make him more than just a little uncomfortable. Of course, Chris knew what he was getting into when he came back to the WWE, but he just couldn't stay away. He had been bit by the wrestling bug and loved it too much to sit by and watch what could be, handed over to men who did not work half as hard as he did.
Opening the door to his dressing room he was met with the smirking face of Stephanie McMahon. Her television persona was almost identical to the way she was in real life. A light smile crept over Chris's face as he greeted the WWE princess softly.
"How's your knee doing?" she asked simply, looking down his form to eye the leg she knew he must've damaged somewhat. Always watching like a hawk, Stephanie was aware of just how valuable each and every Superstar was.
Still dressed in his wrestling attire, Chris shrugged his muscular shoulders and bent his knee some. "It's okay," he started off with a rather grim look upon his handsome face. Stephanie looked back up and settled her gaze on his blue eyes. Jericho let a small chuckle escape and he smirked, "I'll live."
A brief moment of silence over took the pair, and the blond man crossed his arms over his broad chest, merely waiting to see what it was that his boss wanted. There had always been slight attraction between the two of them, and although they never spoke of it and no real feelings ever surfaced, the tension was often palpable. As it was right now. On screen, they could pull off an almost antagonistic relationship but in real life Stephanie worried about Jericho much more than she did about other men on the roster. Not only was he one of the most valuable commodities, but he was a nice guy. Well, it was better to say he was a nice guy, for the most part.
"With Cena returning over to Smackdown," Stephanie started in a very business-like tone. "Your feud with him really has nowhere to go. And to tell you the truth, I'm kind of sick of your character picking a fight with anyone for the sake of it…" she trailed off and invited herself in, brushing past Chris and settling herself upon a low bench with sat parallel to the top of the doorframe. She would usually contact him through a runner and have him met her in her office seeing as she liked being seen behind her desk, looking powerful and busy. This time though, she figured she might as well speak to him in his own setting. "Not to mention the fact that eventually you're going to have to turn face," she added with a wave of her hand. Everyone turned face eventually, some were just better at it than others.
From experience and fan reaction, Steph knew Jericho was absolutely hated as a Heel but loved as a Face. He could turn quite easily and the crowds would react accordingly. Some superstars had a harder time getting the masses behind them once they turned, but things were pretty simple when the star in question was not only talented but charismatic. Chris Jericho was a very hard character to ignore, and in her own mind, very hard to dislike.
"This obviously means that we'll need a new story line for you, so I'm just giving you a heads up," she said only to stand back up and smooth out the front of her simple blue button-up blouse. She had made herself comfortable mere moments before for no real reason and now she felt slightly useless. Stephanie, though internally she tapped herself for being so informal, was just as snip and professional as she always was.
Jericho wasn't the best at reading people and so as he watched Stephanie stand he merely brushed off her actions and ran a hand through his short blond hair. "Oh, okay," was all he said. What else could he say? He wasn't asked to give ideas and he certainly had no input. Lately, he had just been going through the motions of being a Heel. His curiosity at would likely change the face of his character surfaced and he leaned on the back of his closed door, gazing at Stephanie in the way he did anyone: Intensely. "Do you have any ideas?" he asked after clearing his throat.
"The writers and myself are figuring it out, but we're hoping to bring back some of the older elements. Maybe rehash some of the more popular story-lines, freshen them up." Steph's voice was calm and cool as she slowly started to make her way closer to the door; motioning her exit and the end of the conversation.
Moving away from the entrance, Chris opened the door for her and bid her a goodnight. He'd make the rounds and talk to a couple of the guys and then hop into his car and get back to the hotel… and sleep. At the moment, Chris only wanted to take a rest. It wasn't that he was unhappy or anything, but after practically carrying the show on his shoulders he merely wanted to rest. Tomorrow he'd be in higher spirits and perhaps roam around the city some before having to pick up his belongings and get on the road once again.
-=-
Ah, the road, he thought to himself once in his generically comfortable hotel bed.
To this day he was sure what had destroyed his marriage was being on the road all of the time. There were only so many days and nights a woman could spend on her own till she found solace in the arms of another man. In his case, one of his closest childhood friends had been there with open arms to console his wife. His blood boiled at the thought. Had his children seen their mother kiss another man lovingly and hear them whisper about him in dark corners of the house he had, at the time, paid for? He assumed as much and he hated them for it. Not his children, mind you, but his now ex wife and friend. "Good riddance to them," he muttered sleepily under his breath. Little had his wife known that Chris had retired wrestling for her and their kids, only for him to come back home and find another man in the bed they shared countless times.
He used his time off to continue endeavors with his band and other things which tickled his fancy. He did everything he could to keep his mind off of two things: his divorce and wrestling. He had given up his great love to stay with the second… and in the end was left with neither. But a shinning beacon of hope had cast its warm glow upon him. Vince himself had asked Christopher to come back, finding that even he found the RAW line-up a bit boring and stale without an A-Lister from the Attitude Era.
Chris whole-heartedly accepted.
And that was why he was in said hotel room at all, alone and still bitter, even after all this time. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, correct? Alas, the case was not so… yet.
