Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. All characters used are property of the WWE, or own themselves. I still don't own the WWE because I'm not a McMahon, and I'm still sad about this. Warning: the tags will be changed as I actually figure out what I'm doing with this, until then this is all me bullshitting my way with the plot Leave some feedback, please. Thanks for reading. Enjoy? Chapter One: *2010* Tyler knew his time with Ring of Honor was coming to a close. He was sad to see it go, but he knew it was never going to last forever. He just hadn't expected two companies coming at him at once. WWE is, obviously, the biggest and most successful professional wrestling company on Earth. When they first tried to scout him, he had also been talking to Dixie Carter. But Tyler had been ecstatic- he's wanted to work for Vince McMahon since he was a little kid. A total dream come true. He just knew that's who he was signing with. William Regal, the gentleman who had met with Tyler at a cafe in Iowa, explained how it worked down in Florida. He needed to spend some time in developmental. Okay, Tyler could understand that. While Ring of Honor is no small fish, it doesn't compare to the size of WWE. But when Tyler asks exactly how long he'd spend down there before moving to the main roster, Regal said four to six years. That's not.. It seems a little unnecessary. Considering he's been swimming around in the indies since he was sixteen, he's no stranger to the wrestling industry. He can work in any ring - any size or shape - and he does pretty well on the mic. Why would he need so much time to develop? He isn't complaining or anything. He's extremely grateful for the chance.. He voices all of this to Regal. The older man just tilts his head, and says that "none of the work you did before now means anything. It was all worthless, really". Because his countless title reigns apparently don't mean shit if they're "not in a company that matters". Oh hell no. Tyler has worked his fucking ass off to get every belt, try to win every match he's ever been in. He used to drive from Davenport to Chicago and back for four days every week to train with Danny Daniels, working shows in between. All the hard work, blood, and sweat he put in, all the criticism he overcame, all the abuse his body absorbed. It all meant nothing? Eric Bishoff told him a few weeks ago during his meeting with Dixie that the WWE is full of selfish old men. "Career killers" he called them, because they would take someone's career in their "grubby, dirty hands and squeeze the life out of it. They watch the passion for this industry drain from your eyes with a smile on their face.". Looking at William, his eyes showing how little he truly cares about the man sitting in front of him. About Tyler Black. It made Eric's words seem true. Despite Matt Sydal and some other unimportant sources telling him not to, he tells his family and friends his decision. Two weeks later, Tyler is writing his signature on the bottom of a TNA contract. He knows that Impact isn't the best of places. The people there, as he's heard, are rude assholes who only look out for themselves. There's been more double crosses than there have been Wrestlemania's. Not to mention the people in charge tend to do whatever the fuck they want with whoever they want, holding little disregard for anyone without a belt because they're not as important. They're offering him a roster spot and a storyline that puts him directly into the title hunt for the X Division Championship, and they're not discouraging everything he's worked for. Eventually, he'll go for the TNA Championship. Dixie already said he can keep his image, or turn heel, and that it was all up to him. Tyler walks out of TNA Headquarters feeling like a fresh, newly energized man. This is the start of his future, and he can't wait to see where he goes. Even if he never makes it to the WWE, he knows he's going to achieve great things. Just try and stop him. ~ William Regal frowns, "No, Tyler Black has no intention of signing with us. Apparently TNA has offered him something better than we did." Jon Moxley bites his lip to contain his disappointment. Sami has been going on and on about this guy for month's now, ever since he announced he wouldn't be resigning with.. uh.. whatever company he worked for. What kind of idiot would go to TNA instead of WWE? "I hope this isn't a deal breaker." The British man says, holding out the pen. Jon snatches the black writing utensil. "Fuck no, just wanted to know if I would have any real competition." This weird thing - like an emotion or some shit - flashes in Regal's eyes, and a small smile stretches his lips. "Good. Please sign here.."