Okay so this is my very first fanfic. I'd appreciate all the help I can get (please review!), and I hope you all enjoy it!
This is the beginning of a hopefully, very long story. I'm inventing a new character - Kate Black, who will be intertwined into the lives of the Kliq, and various other WWF/E superstars.
Disclaimer-I do not own or take credit for anyone aside from the Blacks.
(Redux-I did some edits, hopefully the story will be more fluid guys! Update coming soon!!)
July 6, 1982
Jose pulled back the sleeve of his red plaid work shirt and looked at his old TimeCo - 1:35. Five minutes late. I don't wait for people. I'm too old for this bull shit. If I say be somewhere at such and so o'clock, your ass better be there. I am not waiting. Two more minutes and I'm outta here. Having to wait on some guy who asked me a favor. Jose pulled the tucked shirt fabric out from his jeans and put his hands in his pockets. It was ninety-seven degrees in San Antonio, Texas that afternoon, not counting the heat index. Gotta be at least... three thousand degrees out here today. He rolled onto the balls of his feet, back and forth back and forth trying to occupy his mind.
Usually the heat didn't get to him, he could sit out on his front porch for hours with a sweating pitcher of limeade and his old hound Fanny. He watched every lizard wriggle by, and looked at the steam rising off the asphalt road. He could get a good sweat going and never blink as the liquid slid down his weathered cheeks. When the sweat made it so his wire rim glasses started sliding down the bridge of his nose, he'd just wipe them off and put them down next to the pitcher on the little rattan table to his left, and then he'd start staring again. In his head he played over old matches back in NWA Florida with Wahoo McDaniel and Dory Funk, when he had a body that worked and he could rely on.
All the action his body saw now was the occasional roll in the sheets with his wife of thirty years, Jenny. There was also the broad side of a stool outside the practice ring he ran down on Locust Street across town. It was a building large enough to house a ring, a locker room and a little office for putting tapes together. The roof was sheet metal, thin and attractive to the sun. The place was a heat magnet, perfect for making the trainees really sweat. Jose liked it that way-builds endurance, he always said to the whining young men in his charge. Back in the good days training was different, better. I remember bench pressing my trainer who ripped me a new one the whole time! "What're you panty-waist Josie? You a pencil dick you can't lift me higher? I can't believe, I got a delicate flower here tryin' to be a wrestler..." Those were good times. Jose smiled to himself and straightened his posture.
Rather than wrestle nowadays he taught. Like most long-time wrestlers he had a passion for the business that wouldn't dwindle and a need to keep his finger on the pulse of the wrestling world. Even though he could no longer compete, he kept his eyes and ears open for new talent and always kept close to the ring.
Jose looked at his watch-1:36:49. He slid his sand-papery tongue over his parched lips, hungry, I'm pretty damned hungry, where should I go? The Perky's down the road's got that new thing, what is it, that cinnamon roll French toast. That'd taste real good right about now. Some blueberry syrup… He licked his lips, the skin was peeling. Eh, he's not coming. He picked up a foot to start toward the open door, two shadowy figures appeared in the doorway. Jose stopped dead, and the two strangers approached. One was roughly 6'4", a big burly man, short but messy hair, Wrangler blue jeans and a dirt-stained white undershirt. The second, a little girl, lanky with long, thin, copper blond hair. She was thin, wore a plain black tee shirt, little jean shorts and black Keds. She held her father's hand tightly, Jose surveyed the two, annoyed his French toast would have to be put off.
The large man strode up, eclipsing Jose's squat figure. The little girl looked at the ground and kicked at the cement floor.
"You Jose Lothario?" The twang in the man's voice was cutting, like the roughnecks out of Denver City; he sounded like a young Jack Brisco. But his look was that of a rattlesnake, cool, mysterious, dangerous. Being around tough men his whole life, Jose knew not to cross the line with this guy. But that didn't mean he wouldn't flirt with that line.
"That's me. You're late." He read the man's face, gauging his temper. Surprisingly, the man didn't bat an eye—
"Sorry 'bout that. Truck broke down 'bout half way here. We're come from Oklahoma, Blackwell. You know it?" The little girl's eyes were now trained on Jose, she had the largest pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen. On a woman three times her age it would be entrancing, but on such a little thing they were like lasers, they penetrated too deep into him. He broke their eye-lock, she's more dangerous than her dad. 'N that's a fact.
"Yeah I heard of it. Big tornado there back in '55." He focused on the father, where it was safer.
"I wouldn't know too much 'bout that. I only lived in Oklahoma a few years, six, since my girl here was born." He put a hand on her head and rubbed gently, it was odd to see such a man be so tender.
"What's your name again? Sorry, memory's not what it used to be." Jose scratched at his balding scalp, his stomach was growling at him. The thought of a Perky's breakfast sounded mighty attractive to him right about now. He wanted to get this over with.
"Sorry there, it's Dan. Name's Dan Black." He held out a scarred hand. Several lines spanned the back of it, maybe he works with sheet metal, them scars are pretty damn deep.
"Black eh? Well Dan Black from Blackwell, Oklahoma, what can I do for you?" The urgency of Jose's hunger was carrying over to his heavily accented voice.
"Lothario, I want you to train my little girl." Black pushed the child forward and kept a steady hand on her back, as though there was a chance she'd run. Jose was thunderstruck, train… what? Train, a six year old... Girl!? To wrestle… Train a six year old girl to wrestle… I'm definitely too old for this… People are ridic… I'm goin for my French toast.
"Black, listen, she's," Black put up his left hand in defense.
"Hey now, my little girl ain't no fool. I've been trainin' her myself for three years now, she's got a passion for the business. Let her prove it. She can do all the moves, and she knows her stuff. Ask her what family runs the AWA,"
"The Gagnes, Verne Gagne and Greg Gagne, but Greg wrestles." The little voice piped up. However, Jose wasn't impressed, her father could just be feeding her lines. Perceptively, Dan Black pushed Jose.
"Ask her yourself, I'm telling you." Jose looked down at her, those blue eyes blazed - she was ready to duel with him. He knelt down to be level with her; he looked her dead in the eye and proceeded with questions his trainees had a hard time answering.
"Who's Captain Redneck?" he spoke low and firm. Without a moment's hesitation she replied just as firmly,
"Hoyt Richard Murdoch, Dick Murdoch." He continued-
"Where was he born?"
"Waxahachie, Texas, August 16th, 1946." Her voice was not high pitched like a regular little girl. There was grit in her, a depth Jose could not explain, one he didn't care to think about explaining. All he knew was, it was unnerving.
"Name two of his managers." The battle of wits kept on—
"Skandor Akbar and Oliver Humperdink." Hmm, didn't say Albano… interesting. Jose kept on though, determined now to get the better of her.
"Name a territory where Humperdink managed." his eyes squinted, as though trying to intimidate her. She stared back, without blinking—
"Jim Crockett Promotions, based out of Charlotte, North Carolina." Her hands were on her hips, her long, airy hair flapped in the breeze. Jose quizzed her about various territories and talent throughout the years and she matched him question for question. Jose stood up and glanced at Dan Black who was looking down at his daughter, grinning for the first time since they arrived. His smile revealed white teeth and genuine adoration for his daughter who looked up at Jose, victory written across her face.
"What's your name?" He asked the girl.
"Kate Black." He looked down at her, her eyes shone brightly. Well she knows her history. That's for damn sure. He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. He didn't want anything to do with her. A little girl who knew that much is a dangerous creature. His mind told him to pass, she's only six, not as though that's a bad excuse. You take her on, she'll be the death a you. Just you wait and see Jose… .........Take a chance. The words floated into his mind. Jose started and looked at her. Her face was immovable, marble, stony waiting for his answer. She's gonna be a challenge. If I do this, which I'm not, but if I did, she could be something... The possibilities began swirling around in his head. If. If. If...
Jose looked at Dan- "Do you have the three grand I asked for?" Dan blinked and squinted with traces of upset.
"You said 1,500..." Jose pulled on his belt loops defensively.
"Yeah... Okay Kate," Jose bent to his knees, "If you can do a wrestling move..." Go on. She can do it. "Off the top rope," he pointed at the ring. He looked up at Dan, who oddly, remained silent, confidence brimming off him like booze out of a shot glass.
Before Jose could look back at the girl she was striding to the ring, as a seasoned veteran would. He stood and watched, arms crossed. His stomach quieted. She hopped up onto the apron and climbed to the top turnbuckle. She sat and debated a moment, her hands on her kneecaps. Jose's brow fell, not expecting a wait from the precocious girl. Within seconds she was standing, her back to the ring. His stomach flopped, oh God what the hell did you do this for? She's six! Not sixteen! Not twenty-six you dim-witted blockhead. Jose looked to Dan quickly, the man in the canvas work boots had his hands in his pockets, a smile laying across his face. Jose focused back on the ring and stepped forward, ready to call her off but it was too late. With a loud exhale, Kate Black executed a pitch-perfect moonsault, landing on her feet, not a hair out of place. Dan looked at Jose, an eyebrow cocked. Jose's eyebrows were knitted together, once more he scratched at the sprigs of hair on his head. He waved a hand and looked back at Dan-
"Okay. Be back Friday."