Disclaimer: I own nothing but Hannah McMahon and my plot.

A/N: This chapter has been edited.

Chapter One

Wednesday, January 9, 2013
WWE Headquarters
Stamford, Connecticut

"Can this wait? I'm running late to pick up El Generico from the airport." Hannah McMahon anxiously checked the time on her Michael Kors watch; she was running 12 minutes late to pick up El Generico from the airport, to be exact, and if she bungled this meeting she'd never forgive herself—she'd been working on signing him to a WWE contract since November. But the stony look of indifference etched onto her father's face made it perfectly clear that he didn't care about her itinerary. Because while Hannah was WWE's Director of Talent Relations, Vince McMahon was WWE's Chairman and CEO—and his business always came first.

"Why are you picking up El Generico from the airport?" he charged. "You have assistants for that."

"Because I want to pick him up from the airport," she returned. Vince pursed his lips, perturbed, but he didn't argue.

"Very well; this won't take long. I just want to know what you think about the Shield."

Hannah's jaw slacked as she stood in the doorway of his office. That was why he was interrupting her entire day, to chitchat about the Shield? "Seriously?"

"Yes," he nodded, cool as a cucumber. "What do you think about the Shield?"

Hannah shifted impatiently. She was running nearly 15 minutes late now, but she knew if she didn't indulge him she'd never get out of there. "Well, I think they're the most successful stable WWE's seen in—"

"That's not what I mean," Vince interrupted. "Of course you think they're successful, because they are. I want to know how you feel about them."

"How I feel about them?" Now Hannah was just annoyed. What the hell was the crazy old man trying to get at here? "I scouted Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose myself—I think you know how I feel about them."

"Yes, but what do you think of what they're doing? How do you feel about their M.O.?"

Hannah steeled her jaw. Fine. If that was what he wanted to know, then she'd tell him. "I love what they're doing. I believe in everything they stand for. They're fighting for the same things onscreen that I've been fighting for behind the scenes for years."

A think silence enveloped them. Hannah grew unnerved under her father's steely gaze; wasn't he going say something? But just when she was on the brink of throwing up her hands and walking out, a wide grin cracked across his face.

"You never let me down, Hannah," he gushed. "I knew you'd be the perfect one for the job."

Hannah's brow furrowed in complete and utter confusion. He wasn't making any damn sense. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about an upcoming storyline," he said. "We're going to reveal the mastermind behind the Shield, and I want the mastermind to be you."

Everything stopped; Hannah momentarily forgot all about the airport El Generico. Her ears had deceived her. She had to have misheard him. "Excuse me?"

"You just proved it to me yourself. You're the perfect person for the job," he repeated. But Hannah was hearing none of it.

"No, I'm not the perfect person for the job. My job is behind the scenes. My job is to find you people to put in front of the camera, not be in the front of the camera myself."

"I know that's your job, and you're damn good at it," he agreed. "And that's exactly why I want you for this role."

Hannah blinked. Oh, she could not wait to hear the old man's reasoning behind that one.

"You have a passion for this business, Hannah," he went on. "And I mean a true, nitty-gritty, down-in-the-trenches passion. You love pro wrestling, and you want wrestlers in WWE. Technicians. Ring psychologists. Promo artists. You want hard work and dedication to rewarded, and beyond that, upheld. It's just like you said; what you've fought for behind the scenes is exactly what the Shield is crusading for on TV: Justice for the dedicated worker."

Vince folded his hands atop his expansive oak desk, his exposition finished, and Hannah bit down harder on her jaw. Goddammit. If there was one thing her father was good at, it was telling people exactly what he knew they wanted to hear—and that speech had ticked all of Hannah's boxes. For years now she had dreamed of changing the landscape of WWE. She hated signing models over accomplished women wrestlers. She loathed holding a skilled worker back just because he wasn't the biggest or best-looking guy on the roster; if she had it her way, Daniel Bryan would be the No. 1 contender to the WWE Championship—not the Rock. The Rock wasn't a wrestler, not anymore. He had abandoned WWE to become a movie star. Why should he get to waltz in the door and be handed a title match while all the guys who busted their asses each and every night were overlooked?

And then it dawned on her—that was precisely why the Shield was wreaking so much havoc on TV. Well shit; maybe her dad was right. Maybe she was the perfect person for the job…

"So what do you say?" Vince asked. There was a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his lips. "Do you want to be the mastermind behind the Shield?"

Hannah stood up straighter. Her father made an enticing case, for sure, but that didn't mean it didn't warrant further consideration—and, right now, she had to get to the airport. "I'll think about it," she said, and before he could say anything else on the matter she excused herself from his office.

Hannah McMahon's condo
Greenwich, Connecticut

Some eight hours and half a beer later, Hannah was still thinking about it—and she wasn't any closer to making up her mind.

It was as if she was standing at a crossroads. In one direction was her path as she had always imagined it: Traveling from arena to arena and studying tape after tape in search of the next great WWE Superstar. Sure, one day she'd work up the ranks to the upper echelons of the Talent Relations Department, but her place would always be behind the scenes. That was how she would make her impact on the company: From the inside out.

In the other direction, however, was a path she had never considered, not even once in her six-year tenure with WWE. It was a path that still led from arena to arena, but it would unceremoniously pluck her from behind the cameras and throw her in front of them. Instead of signing Superstars and Divas she would become one herself. It was a path paved with glitz and glamor, and it went against absolutely everything Hannah had ever thought she wanted.

So then why can't I make up my mind? She was confused, to say the least, and finally, frustrated and overwhelmed, she broke down and did the last thing she ever wanted to do: Ask her sister for advice.

"I don't know, Steph. This whole thing came out of nowhere."

"I know it did," Stephanie agreed from the other end of the phone.

"When the hell did dad even come up with it?"

"Monday night during the TLC match. Remember when all the lights went off, and when they came back up the Shield was in the ring? It was like a light bulb went on above his head. He turned to me and said, 'Hannah's the one who turned off the lights!'"

Hannah smirked—she could picture it all too clearly. That sounded like their dear old dad, all right. "What did you say?"

"That he was nuts. You've never been on TV before."

"Gee, Steph," Hannah deadpanned. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I didn't mean it like that," she clarified. "You've just always made it perfectly clear that you don't want to be on TV. But honestly, if you really want to know what I think, I think you should do it. I mean it is pretty weird that you're the only McMahon who hasn't been on TV."

She had a point there. In her 27 years, Hannah had somehow managed to completely avoid being turned into an onscreen character. Being on television just wasn't something that had ever interested her; she had been far too invested in building her career as a talent agent to bother with the chaos of being in front of the cameras. But now that she had established herself maybe it would be fun to finally have a character? After all, she was a McMahon. Why shouldn't she be on TV?

"But I understand if you don't want to take on this particular role." Stephanie's words cut through Hannah's thoughts like a knife. There was far more to that statement than she was letting on; Hannah could hear it lingering in her voice.

"And?" she pressed. "Why is that?"

There was a hesitant pause, and then, "Well, you know. If you decide to do it you'll more than likely have to work with Punk."

Hannah's stomach churned; she had forgotten that little detail. There had been an implied alliance between the Shield and CM Punk for months now—Rollins, Reigns, and Ambrose had interfered in every one of Punk's pay-per-view matches (and then some) since Survivor Series. If she was going to work with the Shield, she would undoubtedly have to work with Punk, too—and who knows what that would entail.

"Hannah?" Stephanie asked.

"That's a non-issue," Hannah dismissed—and it was a non-issue. She was a professional, and perfectly capable of working with someone she would rather not. After all, she had worked with Stephanie all these years.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure," she returned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're kidding, right?" Stephanie practically laughed. "You actively avoid Punk, Hannah. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you're still not over him."

Hannah bit down hard on her jaw. That was just like Stephanie—always so quick to judge based on her own misguided assumptions. It was one of the myriad reasons Hannah had never gotten along with her sister. "I avoid him because he's an asshole, not because I'm not over him."

"Well, regardless. It'll be impossible to avoid him in this storyline."

The condescension in Stephanie's voice was impossible to miss. It was obvious: She didn't think Hannah could do it, she didn't think she was capable of working with Punk. Yet another thing Hannah hated about Stephanie—she had always doubted her.

But on the flip side, there were few things in the world that gave Hannah more gratification than proving her sister wrong. "I'm doing it; I'll tell dad tomorrow. Thanks for your help, Steph."

With that, she defiantly ended the call and tossed her iPhone across the couch. Hannah McMahon would finally make her TV debut—and Hannah would make sure she was a better character than Stephanie ever was.