A/N: This is my first story on Fanfiction and my writing isn't that great, so nothing harsh! This story's based off of the song Paradice from Lil Wayne. You should hear that song, it's awesome. So, I'm stealing Summer's OC, Christina (if she doesn't mind). Enjoy!

"Christina's on in two!" shouted the stagehand in charge of sending out each model.

…

"GO!"

Two stagehands held the end of her long, silky dress that was embroidered with white spiral designs as she made her way to the front of the catwalk. Christina made her entrance by strutting down the stage and stopped at the end, twisted her body to the left a bit and put her hands on her hips with her head tilted. She dipped her face for a second then faced up, looking into the flashing of all the cameras that shifted in front of her. The black haired beauty quickly turned her body into the opposite direction, with a hint of attitude and made her way to the murmuring of the backstage.

Christina's straight face faded into a scowl as she ripped the zipper down her back and stormed to her section of the area, stagehands swarming around her. "Where's my drag?"

A stagehand replied, keeping her eyes solid on the clipboard in front of her, "No smoking inside."

"Did you hear what I said? Where's my drag?"

"The rules don't bend for you, Christina."

This time Christina moved her face out of her hands and slowly turned her head towards the stagehand "Don't make me repeat myself."

"Good, don't then."

"Just get me my fucking drag." She rested back in her seat, putting her feet on top of the vanity table. "I don't have time to argue with a low life son of a bitch."

"M'am, there's no need to get personal." The stagehand shot back.

Another stagehand quickly came up to the controlling of the two and handed her a lit cigarette, "Sorry, about that, Christina. It won't happen again."

"It better not, or I'll have to tell Mark about it." Christina flipped through a Vanity Fair magazine, blowing a thick layer of smoke out of her mouth. She then flicked the cigarette onto the floor, "Now clean that up."

Christina had it all; the clothes, the boys, the dream job, the money. Everything and everyone went by her words. What could anybody do? After all, she was in one of the highest positions at the fashion agency she worked for. Money came easy for her. Boys came chasing after her. Paparazzi showed up at her doorstep at the early hours of the morning. She was on the cover of all top magazines. The top of gossip was flooded with her name: Christina Murano. Wondering how she does it?

Cocaine.

Heroin.

Meth.

Ecstasy.

That's all it is. Drugs.

…

"Modest to the top..." the charismatic enigma's self recorded theme song sang through the building.

Jeff sniffed then made his way out to the ramp, putting his hands in his face. The crowd roared with excitement, boosting his adrenaline, as the water flowed out of his mouth. Tonight, the high flyer was wearing a black wife beater with his usual baggy black cargo pants. His hair and face paint were a different story, though. The hair was combed back with its pink and green divided equally in half, each color staying respectively on their side, black underneath. With the base of the paint being white with pink, green, and black streaks roaming his face. Just to perfect the paint, it was smeared. Enigma style. Tonight Jeff was facing the phenomenal, AJ Styles in a singles match for the #1 contender spot to face RVD for his world title...

The arena filled with boos as the ring announcer pronounced AJ as the winner of the match. The enigma slowly got on his knees and crawled out of the ring and made his way to the back.

"Jeff, what are your thoughts on losing this match that could've got you a match with RVD and possibly go on to win the world title?" Christy approached the younger hardy, desperate for answers.

Jeff cursed under his breath then mumbled out an answer, "There's more opportunities." With that he walked off, Christy calling after him.

Are you also wondering how a man can perform life threatening stunts in front of a live audience that consists of thousands of people?

Weed.

Heroin.

Cocaine.

Simple. Drugs will do the trick.

…

The rainbow haired warrior was now dressed in a dark hoodie, with the hood pulled up, still with his baggy cargo pants, and pure white vans. He walked down into a back alley and reached for something in his pocket, taking out a cigarette and lighter then lit the cigarette, taking a nice long inhale, feeling the smoke inside of him. Jeff calmed at the feeling and rested his head back against the cold, hard, stone wall. The sound of footsteps slowly came into the daredevil's conscious, causing Jeff to flick his cigarette out and put his hand in his pocket, keeping a firm grip on his cell phone. Who knew what crazy stalker fans had in mind?

A man wearing a black baseball cap backwards with a black jersey and basketball shorts approached him and said, "You there, man?"

"Erm, Jonathan?"

"Yeah, I have some samples that you might wanna try out," both men sat down, Jonathan pulling packets out of a black duffel bag that rested on his shoulder.

"I'm not in the mood to try anything, just give me a blade."

The smaller man's voice turned to a whisper as he looked from his left to right before looking back at the daredevil, "Don't you think we should go somewhere a bit more private? So like incase any of your co-workers or anybody comes out?"

Hardy's voice dripped with his southern twang, "Doesn't matter. Nobody's gonna come out. Just make it quick before anybody starts wondering where I am."

"Aight, man, but if anybody comes out, I'm running and you're in a load of shit," Jonathan took out a bag which contained yellow-ish powder. "Just cut it into fine, thin lines."

That's just what the enigma did; he took a thin straw-like tube and slowly snorted each line into his nostril, "So, when are you coming next?"

"Man, I don't know. This is getting tougher and tougher. Who knows when some fan or somebody from inside spots us? In just seconds, we could get busted."

Jeff shook his head, his eyes rolling back into his head, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just make it happen and be here."

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Jonathan watched the man in front of him get risen higher.

"Do you expect me to? Man, this is my getaway, I don't need to hea-" both; Jeff and Jonathan froze their thoughts and their movements.

"Jeff, is that you?" a wide eyed RVD stood at the other end of the alley, a cigarette in hand.

A/N: Lemme explain something. I'm not saying all wrestlers need drugs to perform and crap and that they do drugs. IT'S JUST A STORY. CHILL. And this has absolutely nothing to do with the whole Jeff drug court incident that happened in real life. R&R.