A/N: Another new story. I'll eventually finish one some day!

If you want to see more, please leave a review. If there isn't any interest, I'll leave it be.

'It's never what you've done, it's what you've done lately,

Who cares what you're saying, if no one's listening,

You don't have to like me, but you're gonna respect me,

I that came from nothing…'

Seth cut the ignition as he pulled up in front of QC Crossfit, bringing the song to an abrupt halt. He looked inside the large picture windows that were lit up against the dark night before getting out, pleased to see several people already standing around awkwardly inside.

Fresh meat.

He was going to enjoy this.

Grabbing his workout bag, he headed inside. Despite the boom of the music, and members frantically making the most of their last few minutes before they were cleared out, he was all that several pairs of wide eyes saw as he strolled over to his best friend and business partner, Marek Brave.

"How's it going, man?" Marek greeted him, pulling him in for a one-shouldered bro hug.

"Pretty good," Seth replied, dumping his bag in a corner. "Everyone here on time?"

"It seems like it, I just did a quick head count. I'll take an official roll call in a second. How's work?"

"Good, good," Seth nodded, tugging his shirt off. "They pay me to be a little shit – something I excel at, as you know – how could I complain?"

Marek grinned, "Well, when you put it like that. And then you get to come home and shape the next generation on your days off. You're living the dream, man."

"I really am," Seth agreed, putting his hands on his hips and surveying the new prospects. "Let's see if they're ready to be shaped. First night will be very telling."

"Alright, let's have at it then. Everybody over here!"

The students gathered in front of them, some obviously nervous, others looking more eager and at ease.

"Welcome to Black and Brave Wrestling Academy," Marek began. "Congratulations on securing a spot, you should be proud of yourselves, the competition was very tough. But now the hard work starts. Be prepared to sweat, to push yourselves to your limits, and for wrestling to take over your life. If you're not okay with any of that, then this won't be the place for you. My name is Marek Brave."

"And I'm Seth," Seth piped up, intentionally looking each student directly in the eye. "I started training when I was eighteen years old, and I've been working at it ever since. Wrestling is an art, it's a marriage of skill sets, like in-ring psychology, athleticism and coordination, being able to take the pain, being able to cut a promo. You'll wake up sore every morning, you'll push yourself to your limits, and yeah, you'll wonder sometimes if it's all worth it. If this is meant for you, then trust me, it'll be worth it. I know that when-"

"This the wrestlin' school?"

Every head in the group swung over to gawk at the late arrival.

A tall, very tall, guy wearing sunglasses stood at the entrance to the Box, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He was wearing ripped jeans and a beat up leather jacket - hardly appropriate gear for wrestling. His wild blond curls, days old stubble, and sheer nerve annoyed Seth instantly.

"Yeah, it is. And you are…?"

If he picked up on Seth's arctic tone, the guy didn't let on.

"Mox. Jon Moxley."

"Are you sure you're in the right place?" Marek asked, consulting the class list. "Your name's not on here."

"What? Oh, that thing. Yeah, I didn't sign up. I'm a walk-in."

"We don't do walk-ins," Seth said stiffly, clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to keep his cool. "This is a very prestigious wrestling school. Only those who are truly dedicated to pursuing a career in pro-wrestling are welcome here."

"Uh, yeah, why do you think I'm here…?" Mox opened his arms wide, a 'no shit Sherlock' twist to his lips.

"Take off your sunglasses," Seth snapped, ready to take this punk to task. "You're indoors. And it's night-time."

Mox shrugged and whipped them off, tucking them into the collar of his shirt. "So, where do you want me?"

"Out that door." Seth didn't start this school so that punk ass kids could swagger around as if the industry owed them something. He didn't give up his days off to deal with idiots like this Mox who didn't even take the process seriously.

"You didn't apply, you weren't selected, and you haven't paid," he continued, listing the infractions off on his fingers. "What makes you think you're special, huh? What makes you think you can swan in here, while everybody else had to get up off their asses and work to earn their spot?"

Mox blinked slowly, which only drew Seth's attention to how pretty his pale blue eyes were. "I'm willing to earn my spot. I'm not afraid of hard work. And I don't give up."

"That's all well and good, but you can't stay here," Seth shrugged, crossing his arms. "Apply for the next class in May. Maybe we'll take you seriously then."

"Where are you from, Mox?" Marek asked, coming to stand beside Seth.

Seth widened his eyes at his partner, silently questioning his sanity. What was he doing? They were done with this guy. Why was he still engaging with him?

"Ohio. Cincy. I drove all this way, that'll tell you how seriously I take this."

Seth huffed and rolled his eyes. This kid was delusional. He travelled from out of state? Big deal. He crossed state lines practically every day on the road with WWE.

"That's great, but you still can't join. It's not fair on the other students. Everybody else had to apply, they were accepted and they've paid for the class. You aren't any different." Seth maintained his stance, knowing that he could look intimidating if the mood struck him. Now was the time to employ that skill.

"What do you think, guys?" Marek asked, turning to face the students. "Do you think he should get a chance for having the balls to rock in here like this?"

Seth gaped at his friend, unable to believe what was happening. "Marek, a word?"

He pulled him over to a secluded corner, keeping his back to the arrogant punk still standing by the door.

"What the hell are you doing? We have rules in place for a reason. This punk can't just swagger in here and start training because he feels like it. Besides, he won't be able to handle it. I can tell just by looking at him."

"You've always said that rules are made to be broken," Marek pointed out. "Did you get to WWE by following the rules, Seth?"

"Well, no…"

"And you think he can't hack it based on looks alone?"

"…Yeah."

"Weren't you considered too small to be a legit wrestler…?" Marek raised his eyebrows.

"Only by idiots," Seth said defensively. His hackles were up, he was in no mood to be made a fool in front of a fresh batch of students.

"So, appearances can be deceiving," Marek confirmed. "I don't know, I kind of like him. He's got…moxy. Maybe that's how he got his name?"

"I don't care how he got his name," Seth hissed, frowning. "I do know that I don't want him around. It sets a bad example."

Marek looked at him strangely, "Bad example? I get that we're a business, we're here to make money as well as have fun. But you don't have to sound so corporate. This is still wrestling, our first love. Remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Seth snapped, trying to keep his voice down. "I'm not here for the money, I give up time on my days off because this is what I love to do. But what if word spreads? What if every wannabe wrestler in the Mid-West hears that we'll take walk-ins? It'll defeat the purpose of our application process. It'll tarnish our prestige. If we want to be the best, we have to act like it."

"I hear what you're saying, I really do," Marek said soothingly, resting a hand on Seth's shoulder, finding him tense. "But something's telling me to give this kid a chance – not a scholarship or a permanent spot, but a chance for tonight. We'll test him out, put him through his paces, see if he really does want it as badly as he says he does. We won't look like assholes, tossing a kid with a dream out on his ass in front of other kids who have the same dream. If nothing else, it'll be a good lesson for our students. They'll see that we're not fucking around here. This isn't easy. If he can't handle it, then he'll skip out with his tail between his legs, and you'll get your wish."

Seth sighed, staring at the ceiling as he considered the proposal. "Fine. He can stay for this class. But only if I get to put him through drills."

"You got it," Marek smiled, slapping him on the shoulder and walking back over to the waiting group.

"Well, what do you say? Should we give Moxley a chance to show us what he's got?"

Although there were a few resentful looks, the majority nervously murmured their consent, bobbing their heads in agreement. Seth watched Moxley for his reaction, gritting his teeth when the man's lips lifted into a cocky grin.

"I'll be right back, gotta go change," he drawled, sauntering toward the locker room.

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. For whatever reason, this kid had clawed his way under Seth's skin. He seriously pissed him off. He could understand his reaction, to a point. The kid was arrogant, self-serving and plain rude. Seth didn't tolerate those traits, especially in students. Regardless of that, he himself was a professional and he would act like one. His near-tantrum had been unacceptable, he should have held it together better.

The acidity of his anger slowly dropped to reasonable levels, leaving a blaze of adrenaline in its wake. His muscles were alive, tensing when Mox reappeared wearing basketball shorts and a shirt emblazoned with 'Cry Baby Joe's' on the chest...whatever that was about.

"As I was saying," Seth continued with a pointed look at Moxley. "This will test you and push you to your limits, but if it's meant for you, you'll get a weird sort of thrill from it. I know that's what keeps me and Marek around. Tonight will be about stamina, you'll need it by the bucketful if you're going to make it in this business. We'll split up into two groups. You guys here, you're with Marek. Everybody else will be with me. Let's see what you've got."

Seth led his group, which contained a non-plussed Moxley, over to a section by the windows, his own lips curled into a sly grin.

It was time to give this Moxley kid a much needed dose of reality.

A/N: I put a lot of time into writing, I'd appreciate it if you took some time to leave a review! :)