Just so you know: I start off each chapter with a section from J.J.'s blog.
All wrestling is written as if it's real and it's written as if Smackdown! is shown live rather than taped.
This is for BlackSuicideAngel. She requested it as a oneshot, but let me twist it into a story.
I wouldn't have been able to do this if it weren't for her help, replies to my continuous e-mails and answers to my non-stop questioning.
Thanks for all the help, I hope you enjoy it.
It's not as interesting as I'd hoped, but it's only chapter one. I've started writing the next chapter and it gets better, trust me.
So, please. Read, review and most of all, enjoy.
The only things I own are... Not much actually. The laptop I wrote this on?
J.J. and the overall storyline belong to BlackSuicideAngel.
Everyone else belongs to the WWE.
Long time no see. Or, well, long time no read in your case.
Yeah, it's me again. I know I don't update this nearly as often as I should, but I've been busy. Not my fault. Well, in a way it is… But, yeah, I'm finally updating.
If you're a regular to our website, you'll know why. I'm doing the same old thing- step into the ring, beat my opponent to a pulp and step out again. I'm still my same old self and still getting told off for it.
If you're new to this, then my name is J.J. It's not my real name, but if anyone calls me by my real name they normally get a nice slap on the face. I'm a diva for FCW. And yeah, I'm a bad girl. I'm one of the heels here. I'm also one of the best and brightest. I've been trained by Shawn Michaels, who is one of the best in the business today.
I'm one of the best but not one of most liked. I'm the stubborn loudmouth who beats everyone who gets in the ring with her.
Well, that's it for now. I'm out to train. I'll see y'all when I can be bothered changing this next.
'Till next time,
J.J.
x
--
"Two years here."
"Two years?"
"Yes, two years. That's after training with Shawn Michaels."
"She trained with Michaels? He never mentioned that." Pause. "Well, I'll be glad to have her on board."
"That's good, she won't disappoint you, believe me. Some of the others will probably be glad to get rid of her. She's good, too good for them."
"What time would you like to see me?"
"How does three thirty sound? She's gonna need some convincing."
"Three thirty sounds fine. I'll be there, make sure she is too."
"Don't worry, she will be."
--
J.J. searched frantically through the drawer in her hotel room. She pulled out top after top, pair of jeans after pairs of jeans and threw them in the growing pile in the middle of the floor.
"Where..?" She muttered to herself as she opened the second drawer and began shoving her way through it. Black jeans ended up on the floor, as did two jumpers and a top. After a moment, J.J. emerged from the drawer, smiling triumphantly.
She pulled out a black cap emblazoned skull-and-crossbones. Shaking it out a little, J.J. put it on over her black bandanna and grabbed her duffle from the floor. She left the room, pausing only to make sure the door was locked behind her before she took the stairs to the lobby two at a time.
Glancing at her watch, she stepped out onto the street, ignoring the few glares that she was getting from the people on the street. She was used to it, being a heel at FCW, and didn't really care. It was her job in a way, to be hated, and she was very good at it. It helped that she was naturally loud and fairly stubborn.
With dirty blonde hair and piercing grey-blue eyes, J.J. had the potential to be very attractive. In her usual attire of jeans, a t-shirt, a black bandanna, vibrant red streaks through her hair and piercing in her bottom lip, she hid that.
J.J. reached the gym and pushed the door open, letting in the warm summer breeze. Without a word to anyone, she headed straight for the locker room. Dropping her duffle on a bench, she pulled out her grey track pants and white tee. Throwing her boots under the bench, she laced up her runners and grabbed her cell from her bag before leaving the room.
J.J. entered the main gym and went over to the large open space to one side. Dropping her phone on the ground, she sat down and reached for her ankle in order to stretch out her leg. After a moment she switched legs, pausing to brush her hair off her face and remove her cap so that she could tighten her signature bandanna.
Pulling the cap back on and tilting it to the side a little, J.J. groaned as her cell began to ring, emitting 'Better than me' by Hinder, loudly.
She retrieved the phone and flipped it open with one hand, not bothering to check the caller ID before cradling it between her ear and shoulder and leaning back against the wall.
"J.J." She answered.
"J.J., it's me. Are you busy?"
"I am, Mr. Dean." She answered her boss.
"Well, I need to talk to you."
"Unless you hadn't noticed, you're already doing that." J.J. rolled her eyes.
"I mean, at my office. Do you think you can swing by for me?"
"I can drop in later, if we can make it quick."
"Please, try to be here in about half an hour."
"We'll see." Snapping her phone shut, J.J. knew she was walking on thin ice talking to her boss the way she had, and then hanging up on him, but she didn't care. Call her mean; call it the heel in her; call it just plain stupid, she hated being interrupted.
--
Exactly forty-five minutes later, J.J. was standing outside her boss' office in torn black jeans, a low-cut midriff-revealing black top and black boots. Her hair was tied at her neck off to one side and she had folded her bandanna so that it was thin and was wearing it in headband-fashion.
She knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an answer.
"You called?" She sing-songed as she entered, before realising her boss had another visitor.
"Indeed I did. J.J., this is Mr. Vincent McMahon. He's the WWE chairman." Her boss, Mr. Joseph Dean introduced his guest.
Vince stood, offering a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jessica."
J.J. ignored his offer. "It's J.J."
"Of course. Uh, shall we get down to business then?" Vince sat on one of the chairs facing Mr. Dean's desk. He seemed unsure of how to take the strongly spoken young woman. He motioned to the other chair and J.J. sat, leaning back and crossing her arms.
"Well, J.J. We wanted to get you here today to talk about things. Things like… your career." Mr. Dean began, leaning forwards and resting his arms on the desk in front of him.
"My career?" J.J. asked, crossing one leg over the other.
"Well, you've been here at FCW for two years now and we think that you're just too good for the others here. I mean, you've won everything we've thrown your way in the past…" Dean counted quickly on his fingers. "…Six or so months. We'd like to move you somewhere you'd get more publicity, somewhere where you can put your skills to the test."
"J.J., Mr. Dean sent me a tape of you in action." Vince put in. "I think you're amazing and would really like to have you on board, if you're willing to come."
"Wait… What just happened?" J.J. shook her head, letting out a small, un-J.J.-like giggle. "Are you serious?"
"We're dead serious, J.J. You're too good for this place; we'd like to put you somewhere where your skills will be challenged." Dean put in.
Vince finished Mr. Dean's thoughts. "So, would you like to go?"
There you have it, BSAngel. Chapter one.
Please, review/favourite/alert, everyone.
I'd love to hear your thoughts.
xx