Well, well. We meet again. And we meet for various reasons. I, for one, am sick of reading Dean Ambrose in this loose cannon, hits women, piss on you after sex kind of light. A fanfiction, to me, is depicting our muses in ways others may not have even thought up: A kind hearted Ryback, a really mean and vindictive Zack Ryder, sensitive and sweet AJ Lee. A step out of the ordinary, if you will. And I am stepping out of the ordinary a bit here. And secondly, I'm sick of letting everyone else have the joys of writing of the likes of Dean Ambrose! lol

This is a love story; Uplifting, painful, intense, scary, a depiction of how I envision myself in WWE. I suppose you could call this a slight mirroring of myself.

This is to be a trilogy. Part One, the in depth backstory and introduction of a young woman, making her way through the developmental stages WWE and meeting a fiery Dean Ambrose towards the mid/end. OC/Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, CM Punk, Kaitlynn, the Bellas, others.

I must disclaim that I own nothing. Not even my own soul. My soul belongs to the WWE and the sweaty wrestlers that are my muses. Adora Burke is me. And I am her. She is my reflection and at the same time, my envy. Confused? Don't be. Relax, Review and Enjoy.

This story does indeed contain sexual content.

Chapter One- 4 months time

This was a long way from Washington, DC. Smiling faces everywhere. Not too much traffic. It was impossibly sunny and a pinch more tropical than she'd expected. And everyone was beautiful. Okay. So this a very long way from DC.

She looked out of her window as she finished unpacking her bags and stared at her new, but still small, warehouse apartment in Florida. It was all she could afford using the stipend because she still had a car note and other bills to pay. It was a welcomed contrast from her super cramped public housing unit in Southeast. Damn, the things that could change in 4 months' time.

She felt alone without her road dog, Anarchy. They hadn't been too close until a year ago during their first deployment to Afghanistan. They drew to each other immediately and leaned steadily for emotional support and a bit of kindness, something they had yet to find in others. They often called themselves twins, they had an affinity for the unusual, and disdain for authority, and could smack talk off the cuff for hours at a time. He understood her. And that counted for something in her book.

Together they had started a backyard wrestling federation about 6 months ago called the Outfielders Wrestling Association. Adora came up with that because she was just plain sick of standing in the outfield waiting for a ball to then slide around the ground for. They were taking their opportunities by the horns, taking their skills to the extreme, and their minds to the dark side.

They made a weekly showcase called Saturday night Anarchy, named after you-know-who, and quickly the small street began buzzing. Anarchy had the funny idea to bust out his camera and BOOM! Days later, they've become something of a Youtube sensation.

It could be in part to Anarchy's daredevil tactics in the makeshift ring, his painfully cunning uses of foreign objects, his "Mr. President" attitude or his amazing body. But they both knew it was all in Adora, the first lady. Her all consuming, deviously sickly promos. Her in ring swagger. Her many keen uses of a light tube that often left herself and the other wrestlers stunned, bloody, and hospital bound. She's who brought the fans, the women who wanted to be her, the men who wanted to be with her, and the children who stood in wonder... Noone had ever seen a female wrestler tell a story so beautifully with her body, mind, or spirit.

And then she gets an email and it all comes together. She remembered how excited she was when she told Anarchy the news, that someone wanted to offer them both developmental deals in the WWE.

Flashback

"Son, you're gunna faint when I tell you who just hit me up."

"Adora, c'mon now. You know Sunday is our recovery day. I just got back from the doctor's and my elbow is damn near rotting off my arm from all these damn splinters and i'm tired. I don't want to hear about your little boy toys messaging you on Facebook. I'm in bed. And you need to take your black ass to bed too."

"Boy, Hush! When's the last time you heard me gush over some damn boy toy. Anyway, Somebody from WWE just emailed me."

*Silence*

"You a damn lie!"

"No, I told you our videos got 4 million hits on YouTube. And you think nobody from the wrestling realm saw it?! Ha! But anyways, i'm coming over right now, soooooo..."

*Knocks at door*

"OPEN UP!"

"JESUS CHRIST, WOMAN!"

Adora flung herself into a tight hug, grabbed a bottle of water and helped herself to a seat at his dinner table. She adjusted her septum piercing, a habit he notices that she does when she's nervous, and could not contain her gapping smile and showed Anarchy the email from her iPhone of which he read aloud through sleep filled eyes.

Dear Patrice Adora Burke,

Hello. I hope my email finds you happy, healthy, and thumbtack free.

My name is Heather Winslow-Knight, Director of Talent Relations at WWE, Inc. and I wanted to start off by saying that we ususally do not use YouTube as a means for scouting purposes. But you and your business partner, Jayson "Anarchy" Martin, have caused quite the buzz in the locker room and more importantly among the suits. This is a very informal email that I am doing from home and my apologies for the lack of letterhead and for emailing you at close to 10:30 at night on a Sunday, no less, but I have a very important offer that I've just been given permission to put forth.

We would like you and Jayson to come down to the Developmental Territory, NXT, and train for a few months and hopefully within that time, the proper assessments can be made and we can move forth from there, hopefully with an offer of 2 years with the WWE on it's RAW brand. You will be offered a small stipend for housing and gym dues for those months you've used to train, plus the option to relocate to Florida which is highly recommended. Feel free to call me when you have a free moment and I can answer whatever questions you may have.

Professionally,

Heather Winslow-Knight

Director of Talent Relations, WWE, Inc.

987-456-1234

Anarchy couldn't believe his eyes. He was very happy and he knew this moment would happen one day, just not this soon. They were still pretty green considering the amount of product and level of expertise WWE put out. And he wasn't even 100%. A fall onto the guardrail yesterday banged his arm up pretty bad and the 2x4 swings didn't help much either. The aches and pains were all part of the job, but he couldn't just run away from what they'd started. One of them had to stay and further lead the gang. A wide smile spread across his mouth that just didn't reach his eyes. Adora picked up on it immediately.

"What's wrong? Are you not as excited as I am? Is this not our dream come true?! Yo... We could be tag team champions!" Adora stood atop her chair and threw her fists in the air. He laughed and rubbed his chin, watching her celebrate and do her little Jeff Hardy rain dance.

"That's fine and dandy. But, I mean. Who's gunna stay behind and watch Yami and Felize Cruz, Samuel Freedman, and Cassine? If we both leave, the structure leaves. What we worked so hard for, stayed up so late for, and fell through tables for, won't be here when we get back. Yami and Felize are prolly gunna move back to El Salvador. Sami is gunna end up in jail or something and Cassine is gunna go back to art school. I trust them all, but they'll buckle under the pressure. And all the other Joes who want to join won't have a clear direction on what to do and how to do it. They're venues to plan, checkbooks to balance, people to pay. It's not just thumbtacks, high spots and shock value. We're pioneers, opportunists."

She fell silent at his words. A few thick seconds passed. "What are you saying, Jay?" Easily the hardest thing he'd ever had to say.

"I'm saying, you go change the future. And i'll stay here and hone the present." A loud groan escaped her lips and hung into the thin air like a cloud.

"You cannot be serious."

"And you cannot pretend like what I said doesn't hold some merit. This isn't a stepping stone, this is someone's livelihood. How else is Sami supposed to eat if we both leave? He has nowhere to stay."

"He could've stayed with me."

"In your mother's basement. C'mon. You know Sami is waaaay too proud for that."

"Then the proud stay hungry and let the humble eat."

"Wow, what a comment. You'll fit in quite nicely with the 'Main Roster'."

"I'm sorry, I just don't want this to tear us apart. I just, I just want us to make the right decision." Anarchy stood up and stretched. He sure as hell didn't have the energy to deal with her and her somewhat selfish opinion.

"We are. You go. I stay. That's final. And your ass better call me everyday."

Present Day

Tears pricked her eyes as she looked at a picture of them two holding their M4s, helmets pressed together, face clad in war paint. Damn. She was going down this path alone. Something they'd promised to try not to do. But he had a point. He had to develop the present. And she had to take the road less traveled. Damn, the things that could change in 4 months' time.

A/N. That was a random ass number I just made up lol. You likey so far? Let a sistah know. Review!