As it says on my profile, I write mostly in "kayfabe" with only small bits of real life to flesh things out.
Enjoy. (Hopefully, this saves right this time.)
Leash Stranglehold
Perhaps they had grown complacent in NXT. Hardly in that they had let their teeth grow dull, but in that no one would try to stop them.
Triple H, always the good eye for the audience, witnessed how the Ascension brought out the crowd's bloodlust and had been content to let them prey upon their challengers as they willed. Although his eyebrows rose as the chants rose to a fever pitch, all the "father of NXT" could do was shrug and say "best for business".
Sometimes all the audience wanted was a good bloodbath and to watch predators toy with their food.
Up above, however, was a different story.
First, they were given shoulder pads.
Konnor tried his on first. Viktor's lip drew back in distaste over how reminiscent it was of the Road Warriors.
"What is this?" Viktor spoke up, slapping a hand against his partner's chest as he examined himself. "We are the Ascension, not the Road Warriors. This is-"
"This," they interrupted him, "is what you'll be wearing now. We thought you needed a little extra oomph to your gear. Besides, everyone knows that the Road Warriors are, perhaps, the best tag team of all time. It'll be great."
A growl rumbled in Konnor's throat. "We're nothing like the Road Warriors. We don't want to be the Road Warriors."
"It's either this or stay in NXT."
The Ascension were silent in the face of the ultimatum.
"Look, you boys are new to the audience. It's a way for them to see you and get an idea on where you're coming from. It'll work out just fine."
Then they were given a script.
"We can't just give you the look of the Road Warriors," they explained as Viktor's lips pulled back in a disgusted sneer, "you have to sound like them too. Don't worry, it'll be just fine. Just don't move away from it and you'll be fine."
Next came the matches.
Or, rather, next came the mockery of matches.
That got the Ascension's blood boiling. These pathetic teams scrambled together wouldn't match up next to some of the teams they beat during their reign as the NXT tag team champions. Even then, those had been easy prey. They wanted meat with substance. Cesaro and Tyson Kidd. The Uso brothers. The Brothers Dust. Los Matadores. Slator Gator. New day—any one of them would be far more interesting to sink their teeth into rather than the measly scraps thrown to them.
Whispers about their matches didn't escape their ears nor, in the case of one announcer, the broadcasted doubt of their skills.
There was no denying that it put the Ascension on edge. Already, they had been a solitary pair. Now, however, there was an edge to it they hadn't felt since they had lost the belts to the Lucha Dragons. Their shoulders kept tense in their anger and their fists always ready to lash out. Neither was completely sure who their anger was directed at—the leadership that put them there, John Bradshaw Layfield, the other tag teams, or even at themselves. Perhaps it was everyone. In any case, the anger radiating from them was enough to keep anyone from approaching them.
The Reunion RAW had been a heavy slap to the face. There was an obsession with the past that this universe couldn't, or rather wouldn't, shake. Already the Ascension had been aware of it, but it had never been clearer than on that evening.
"All we see are three old dogs that need to be put down," was the first thing Viktor had said since they arrived that truly felt like himself, like the sinister omen he had been before. He meant it with all of his spirit. The universe put these old men on a pedestal, refusing to let go of these old men who no longer had anything to contribute except memories from the days they were still young and hungry.
Instead of having the opportunity to prove their point, a mob of old men past their prime came to shut the Ascension down.
It stung their pride. It stung hard.
After the Ascension beat down and disrespected the New Age Outlaws, they went to those that had given them the callback gear.
"No, you boys have a thing going, you have to stick with it," they were told.
Konnor snorted. "What thing? We beat your old men. Vik and I have been here for a month now," he pointed out, "they know our names. Now we need to make our mark as the Ascension."
They were silent for a minute. "You boys shouldn't be so hasty. You've only been here a month. Just wait it out. There are some other priorities we have before you right now, but, once we're done, we'll talk about options."
It wasn't until the Ascension was alone that Viktor spoke, his eyes staring unwavering at the door they had just left. "They lie."
Konnor said nothing.
What could one say in the face of the truth?
Nothing made Viktor's words more set in truth after Wrestlemania when the Lucha Dragons and Adrian Neville came following after them. The audience oohed and aawed over them, like shiny new baubles placed in front of an infant. The Lucha Dragons came unsullied from NXT. As for Adrian Neville, the changes were only superficial at most.
Under other circumstances, the Ascension weren't much given to jealousy. However, that night, it burned hot in their veins.
They were nothing but an example.
Even the fiercest tigers would be made weak when starved and strangled.
The Ascension were starved of good matches and the decorations on their shoulders were nothing more the leashes meant to choke them.
Konnor roared in rage as he threw the shoulder gear at the wall. Viktor's eyes watched as it fell to the ground. Both remained silent in their shared thoughts.
Unless something changed, the Ascension would be smothered to death by a mantle they had never wanted. They had worked too hard for it to end like this. They had come too far. They set a record that no one may ever touch for years to come.
They weren't ready for the abyss yet.
Not like this.
Anyone who's watched the Ascension in NXT can tell you they just aren't the same since coming to RAW and Smackdown. Here's an in-character interpretation of the "creative" meetings.