Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. The only thing I own is the name Horizon.
"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck a duck, Screw a kangaroo, Finger bang an orangutang and your momma too," the girl sang under her breath while sprinting through the hallways of the latest arena.
The girl was named Horizon Akoir, known to most only as Crow. She was a new diva, a hardcore wrestler straight from TNA. She was about 5'11, with what everyone of those damn divas called "the most gorgeous hair I've ever seen!" In reality, her hair was naturally calico, a mixture of black, brown, and light blonde that had other people fawning in jealousy. She was curvy and pale, her body not made for the skimpy clothes considering she was one of the very few divas who possessed a butt.
Her current ring wear was what had everyone's attention, considering it was what gave her, her name. She wore a black skirt, barely covering her rear, but making up for it by hanging with streamer-like material, designed to look like feathers. With the skirt was always paired a halter, normally black or grey, with a mesh strap holding it up. The outfit paired with her wrestling boots, flat slipper-like shoes that were laced with a silver ribbon, she looked like the bird that gave her it's name.
Right now she was wearing her ring wear, looking frightening barreling down the hallway with her clothing and the heavy eye make-up that she loved. She was on a mission, a mission to find Eric Bischoff and kick his platinum-haired ass from Chicago to California. Her dressing room was separate from every one else, just as she'd asked, which was the reason for having to run through all the hallways. It didn't explain her choice in rhyme, but that wasn't her real problem. Her real problem was her new storyline.
That goddamned white haired greasy git had decided she needed more pizzaz , more attention. She just wasn't the right material for this job if all she wanted was to wrestle, he'd said. She'd just found out the "more" part of her storyline, though.
She was going to be a torrid love affair with two of the hottest wrestlers in the WWE. That was the whole angle of her storyline. She was going to have to boink two wrestlers. This was psychotic! Horizon ran faster, not even acknowledging the yelps or outbursts of "hey!" until she ran into a solid wall. Well, a solid wall of a man. Big Show was standing in front of her, smiling slyly.
"Oh, please no. Show, all I want is to go kick Eric's ass and go back to my hotel room. Can I please just pass without the troll imitation?" she asked, a pleading look in her eyes. She knew no one could say no to her, especially when she broke out the puppy-dog look. The large man was no exception. He smiled at her and nodded, letting her pass without asking his standard question, a tradition he'd started when she'd called him the "Bridge Troll", the guy who blocked people from passing the bridge on Monty Python.
She kept running, not even stopping when people began calling her name, running straight into Bischoff's personal Office. There was someone in there, but she didn't care.
"Eric, what the fuck is this all about?' she asked, whipping her script at him. It caught him in the forehead. He looked taken aback.
"Excuse me, but I was just talking with the two other's involved in your storyline," he said calmly, looking all the while like a sleazy car salesman. She set her jaw, and turned to her right, realizing for the first time that there were two men there, one of whom was sitting on the leather couch acting like he was eating popcorn.
"For a girl, you sure do throw like a guy," John Cena said, dusting the imaginary crumbs off of his jersey. Horizon just popped her jaw, her face a mask of solemn. She obviously couldn't stand the man in front of her. The other man was a different story. He was her type, with his black hair and wild attitude. He honestly didn't care what people said about him.
"Shut the hell up. Now why the hell was I put into this storyline?" she asked, green eyes blazing under her black eyeliner.
Eric just smiled sweetly, the grin revealing his laserized pearly whites. Horizon groaned again.
"You see, you're not what we normally want here. In fact, all the other divas enjoy walking around in their bikinis beneath their skirts and wearing very little. You, honestly like to," his gaze flicked to her shirt, which was so low her bra was visible. He scoffed. ", dress conservatively. I was going to force you into a new character, but since we already have your shirts in the press, we figured, make you a sex icon." Horizon raised an eyebrow, the hoop that pierced it raising with her.
"Have you looked at me lately?" she asked, eyebrow still raised high. Eric nodded distastefully.
"Yes. Only five men wanted to be pulled into a relationship with you. Three of them were far too obvious. I mean, Crow and Undertaker? Crow and Kane? Crow and Randy Orton? All people who the audience would expect to see you with. These two were the only one's who were obviously... unobvious. Matt Hardy is supposed to be hung up on dear Lita, while John Cena is supposedly, well, gay, in the public view."
"Hey! I don't look gay, do I?" John asked rhetorically. Horizon settled into a seat, her feet underneath her.
"So I have to act like I'm madly in love with the 3 finger fuck and the New champ?" She asked. Matt had been staring at her before, but he cracked a smile at that moment. John just glared, the look not masterful on his face.
"Yes, Miss Akoir. Now be happy. It's the first day of your three person relationship," Bischoff said, opening the door and pushing them all out.