Punk

Rating: M for later chapters.

Summary: Phil Brook's daughter, Emily is far from angelic. Everything her father stands against she pushes for. But what happens when a drunken night almost ruins his career? Can Cena and the younger Hardy tame her?

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is Emily Brooks, who is completely fictional. So is the rest of this story.

A/N: NEVER drink half a bottle of Nyquil with 102 fever and watch someone play CM Punk's Road to Wrestlemania scenario, or this might happen.

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Yeah, I fucked up pretty damn good this time. Emily had just explained for the ump-teenth time to a pudgy flat-faced officer just why she'd flung some punk's ass over the bar and cause over a thousand in property damage. "I thought he said: 'You're nothing but a useless whore.' Ya ever misunderstand someone when you've had too many? Shit, it happens to everyone! He really said: 'You look like you need another pour." He scribbled something more on his report pad and pocked her three fake Ids and nodded to the other officer. They quickly read her Miranda rights and stuck her in the back of the paddy wagon.

Damn, and I loved that club too. The bright lights of Angelique faded into the distance.

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Dad, for the love of the finest green, pick up! Her head was still spinning from a concoction of JD and adrenaline. On the fourth ring, before it sent her to voicemail, she heard her father's familiar voice. "Please people, its four a.m. I've asked you to take me off your call list."

"DAD! Its me, don't hang up!" Jesus, he's even polite to telemarketers.

There was a small silence on the other end as CM Punk tried to clear the early morning brain fog. "Em? You were in BED when I went to sleep. How in the hell did you get out. My room's directly below yours." God, he's so naïve. Wasn't he ever a teenager? She highly doubted it.

"Well, if check the window you'll see its missing a few panels. Like, all of them. See its really easy. All you do is- " she was abruptly cut off.

"Never mind, I don't even want to know. Where are you?" Emily kept quiet, no doubt he was checking the caller ID. "County Jail. Good Lord, stay where you are. I'm on my way." Yeah Dad, cuz I'm rushing out of here a big hurry. Let me just find the hacksaw I keep in my back pocket…

She counted the floor tiles as she waited. This jail was better than the cells in juvenile hall she'd spent weeks at a time in. Oh, she'd gotten out of a few charges with probation and community service thanks to Daddy's name, his wallet, and his legal team. But judges don't really take to kindly to felony theft (stealing his checkbook) and arson (that bastard neighbor had it coming, even if she hadn't really meant to set his back porch on fire). The younger arresting officer set at the desk just outside the bars filling out her paper work. "Ya know, if you cut down on the Dominos and cream coffee you probably would have caught me after the first fence, not the fourth." She cut him a vicious smile.

Phil Brooks entered the jail still wearing his pajama pants, a t-shirt and a light fall coat. His hair was a mess and he looked like he'd just run a marathon. Next time, I'll get plastered and thrown out of a Bar on a Tuesday. Give him one night of peace. Maybe on Father's Day. Sometimes, it seemed like she lived to torture her father. He quickly spoke with the officer about the charges who directed him to the bail bondsman. He paid in cash and rushed his daughter into the rental car. Skipping the seatbelt, she jacked the radio up. Phil just shook his head and turned it off.

Her father could kill with silence. She'd rather be taken out to the woodshed then deal with it. Fidgeting she tried to focus on anything outside the car. Finally, she broke the tangible quiet. "What, no lecture this time? Here, I can already give you the first few minutes." She raised her voice to a mock-falsetto. "You've been a naughty little girl. If I was your boyfriend I'd tie you the bed and leave you there! OK Dad, I promise not to do anything horrible for the next 24 hours. You better ground me to my room and let me play video games and jack the stereo. See? Is it that hard? Now, you try."

He sighed. "First, you don't have a boyfriend. If you did, he'd be sitting next to you in that cell. Second, you can't even last 20 minutes, let alone a day without doing something heinous. I don't know what I'm going to do with you anymore. I've tried being the relaxed father, the strict dad - even had you put in jail for a few weeks. We've gone through every behavioral expert in North America and still nothing changes. So, I'm not doing anything anymore. Let you ruin your own life." They pulled into the hotel parking lot, and took the rear entrance. Jayde went to bed that night with a sour taste in her mouth.

Phil wasn't there in the morning, so she took the liberty of ordering chocolate pancakes and coffee for two. She was just finishing off the carafe when he stormed in through the door. He slammed a tabloid down on the table and started to pace, grabbing at his hair. "Page 7. Read." She flipped through the pages until she came to her mug shot and a picture of the nightclub she was ejected from the night prior. The story was about her, but focused more on CM Punk's "poor parenting skills."

"Shit! My one chance at fame and I didn't even moon the cameras." Phil just glared at her. "That was a joke. Haha. Your turn to laugh." His face remained unchanged for a few moments, until he breathed in a long sigh and took a seat.

"Do you know who I've been on the phone with all morning?" Well it sure ain't Mary Poppins. "WWE representatives talking about damage control. Kid, you're ruining my entire career with one hand, and driving me to an early grave in the other!" He ranted on, his voice raising until she swore the other patrons would call the front desk.

"Well gee Phil, why don't you do what every other sane parent on this planet would do, send me to my mother's. Oh fuck, I forgot! Silly me, you never told me who she is!."

He stopped and looked at the ground. "We've been through this Emily, its better if you just forgot about her. From now on, you don't leave my sight. You'll come to arenas, to the gym, to my dentist appointments, everything. Until I can figure out what to do with you."

She thought about it for a moment. "OK, but I get to hold the drill."

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The board room smelled of cheap cleaners and pompousness. Three stout men in business suits sat across from her and her father. Though she was supposed to look proper she wore her red-and-black plaid mini-skirt, a half-shirt, 2 in heeled boots and her armbands that laced up like a corset. With her crimson hair tied in two ponytails, she thought the school girl look might favor over the men. Apparently, they're gay.

"The judge is willing to drop the charges as long as the club receives payment for the damage and she completes some sort of re-education program." The man pushed his glass back up and stared at her.

"Well, I'm over eighteen - so I get to decide. And I'd rather rot in a jail cell then rot in some sort of classroom." Emily put her feet up on the table and leaned her chair back on two legs.

"Missy, your problem has now become the WWE's problem. And now, we're going to handle it our way. Next Monday Mr. Brooks, you are to bring your daughter into the ring before any match takes place. We have a suiting program that your daughter will be sure to complete."

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A/N: The Phil/Emily relationship is just like my relationship with my mother. Emily is basically me in character form. What will happen to her! Stay with me, please review!