I.
The pressure of being a champion in the wrestling industry, let alone the WWE World Champion of the number one wrestling company in the world, was a huge burden and responsibility. You had to not only represent the company, but your own brand as well to prove that you were a part of the most superior roster in the world. And yet, that was no problem at all for the current WWE Champion, Dean Ambrose.
Dean had been the champion for at least two months up to this point, cashing in his briefcase on Seth Rollins to win his first WWE World championship; before successfully defending his title against both of his former Shield brothers in a triple threat match at Battleground to prove that he was the best Shield member of them all-at least in his mind anyway.
Tonight, he'd have the pleasure of defending his WWE Championship against the next number one contender to step up to the plate, Dolph Ziggler. The Showoff, a former two time world champion in his own right, was on a recent string of bad luck lately, finally breaking out of his slump when he won a 6 Pack challenge to become Dean's newest adversary.
Unfortunately for Dolph, as good as he was on this night, Dean Ambrose was just that much better. Countering a facebuster into a Dirty Deeds, that was all the Lunatic Fringe needed to dispatch of the cocky loudmouthed challenger. Another PPV, another successful title defense; all in a day's work for the champ. As Dean propped up the title over his shoulder, he made his way backstage proudly putting his belt on display as several producers and backstage workers patted him on the back and mouthed 'great job' at him. Was it wrong for him to be enjoying this?
"You must really be enjoyin' being the champ huh?" the thick Irish accent of SmackDown's first woman draft pick Becky Lynch rang out. "I mean, you got yerself a brand new pair of jeans and tanktops, you got a haircut, and hell, you're smiling harder than Fergal does in his Instagram photos," she chuckled, eyeing Dean carefully before her eyes darted to his title.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" he proudly rubbed his title as if he had raised it. "I scratched and clawed to get the crown jewel of this business, and I'll be damned if I let anybody take this thing away from me. If they really have the balls to try me, they're more than welcome to step up to the plate. It won't end well for them though."
"Well, you sure aren't short on confidence, that's for sure. But don't get all high and mighty because you aren't gonna be the only champ around here for much longer Deano," Becky claimed.
Dean eyed her down carefully. "Oh yeah carrot top? And how do you figure that?"
Becky smirked back at Ambrose, trying to get a read on him as if she knew that would be his exact reaction. "Because Deano, at Backlash, they're introducing new SmackDown Women's and tag titles! You're looking at your next and first ever Women's champion!" she exclaimed.
"Is that right? Well let me let you in on a little secret then, from champ to champ." Becky leaned in close to Dean, and as she turned her ear to him, he immediately shouted, "The real champ is here!"
The Irish Lass Kicker immediately stumbled backwards into the wall, as Dean laughed at her. "Come on, you shoulda known that was coming Becky! A real champ is ready for anything."
Her ears still ringing from the baritone sounds of his voice, she shoved him hard, only pushing him back a few inches. "Hey, what's yer fuckin' deal?! Are you trying to make me deaf before 30?" she screamed, before holding her ears in pain, the constant ringing getting louder and louder.
"I'm just messing with you Bex, good luck to you at Backlash. Maybe, just maybe if you're lucky, you'll outlast the field and win that championship…maybe," Dean nonchalantly shrugged, before letting out a chuckle.
"Are you really gonna do her like that? Christ, what's wrong with you 'champ'?" Dean heard a voice call out, before he turned around and immediately got shoved by AJ Styles into a stack of arena boxes, a few of them falling over and almost nailing Dean in the head.
"What the hell's your fuckin' beef Styles?" Dean spat, eyeing down his opposition in AJ Styles. Known as the Phenomenal One, Styles had been making an enormous impact on the WWE since his arrival in January. He engaged in an intense rivalry with Chris Jericho, clashed with Roman Reigns over the WWE Title twice, and had recently waged war against the Face That Runs The Place, John Cena. A cocky but talented competitor in his own right, he was ready to lay claim to bigger things.
More specifically, the WWE Championship.
"You think you run this place just because you beat John Cena, is that right AJ? Well news flash Styles, you don't run shit. Because as long as I'm holding this—" he held up his WWE World title proudly in the air, "the best thing you're gonna get is second billing. I am the champ, everything revolves around me! You know it, Becky knows it, and this whole damn roster knows it!"
AJ let out a huge, obnoxious laugh that made both Dean and Becky raise a curious eyebrow. "You really think that belt makes you the star of the show? I just beat the face of the company all on my own, in a straight up clean victory! I beat up John Cena! Your title reign is nothing compared to my victory tonight, but I'll be glad to take that title off of your hands for you, you fucking lunatic," AJ threatened, staring Dean dead in his eyes until their foreheads started clashing.
"Alright guys, enough with yer pissin' contest already! We all know that I would kick both of your arses and take your pathetic little title," Becky proclaimed, pushing past both of them to get them apart. "Probably snatch yer measly arms to boot as well," she bellowed, sauntering off down the hallway and out of the company of these two egotists.
As she left, Dean quickly turned his attention back to AJ, kicking him in the stomach rather unexpectedly, hooking his arms and dropping him with his patented Dirty Deeds finisher onto the cold tiled floor. "Like I said, nobody's taking my baby away from me damn it. Not even a low down, two bit second rate performer like you Styles," he fired off, picking up his championship belt and spitting in AJ's face.
He couldn't believe that he had lost. Not again, especially not to AJ Styles. They'd stolen the entire show with a back and forth 25 minute classic that nobody on the card was going to top, at all. Even then, while he did take pride in giving the fans their money's worth, at the end of the day this was still going to go down as a loss on his record. Which definitely begged the question….
Was John Cena losing his touch?
Through so many matches in his career, John Cena had found a way to come up huge when the lights were on bright and the moments mattered the most, en route to being nicknamed "Big Match John" and 15 WWE Championships. He so desperately wanted to capture number 16 and tie the legendary Ric Flair for most world championships all time, but how could he do that if he was losing left and right to AJ Styles?
Sighing to himself, the Cenation Leader pulled out his iPhone, quickly swiping through all of the notifications and alerts that were on his phone, stopping on a text he received from his girlfriend Nikki Bella. Freshly returning from a nearly career ending injury after a year out of action, Nikki made an impact in her SummerSlam return, picking up the win for herself, Alexa Bliss, and Natalya by pinning Carmella. The self-proclaimed Wonder Woman of WWE was back to stake her claim for the throne.
She'd texted John to let him know that Nattie and Naomi wanted to take her out early for dinner to celebrate her healthy return to the ring, and they weren't taking no for an answer. See you on Tuesday, love you, the text had read. John's lips parted for just the slightest smile; any text from Nicole was bound to make his night better, even if it was just a little bit.
Grabbing his workout bag and travel gear from his locker room, he made way for his custom WWE tour bus, a luxury only very few WWE superstars could afford with the time he'd put in for the WWE over his 14 year span. Opening the door to his tour bus, he climbed aboard and tossed his bags into the closet, before flopping down on the couch. "Whenever you're ready Tony," John said, placing his headphones on his head as the bus driver Pete pulled out of the arena parking lot.
As a man who was starting to slip out of his prime and possibly enter the twilight years of his wrestling career, having down time like this was highly important for John. Between wrestling, shooting movies, hosting awards shows, writing new music for an impending rap album, and more, John Cena epitomized what the Rock was before him a decade and a half ago: the biggest crossover star in WWE and one of, if not the busiest name in Hollywood.
Stretched out with the tunes blasting in his ears, he watched the many lights pass by on the highway and flash from buildings well across the way. This tour bus damn sure was worth the investment if it meant he got to relax and travel in style like this. Feeling his stomach rumble in hunger, John hopped up and quickly made his way over to his fridge, looking for some quick grub. He knew there was a special smokehouse burger in the fridge that Nikki had saved for him, and he immediately began digging for it.
"I know that damn burger is in here somewhere," he muttered aloud, and before he could check inside one of the drawers, a loud chewing sound filled his ears quickly. He pulled his head out the fridge to find none other than Carmella standing behind the fridge door, eating the very burger John was looking for. The shocked and exasperated look on Cena's face was almost enough to make Carmella want to roll over on the floor and laugh with mass hysteria.
"Y-you…ate…burger…"John tried putting coherent sentences together.
"I guess I did," Carmella responded as her lips waved into a coy smirk, "you don't mind do you?"
"Well no, of course not. Except that I was really looking forward to that burger that Nicole made for me, you know?" John dryly responded, throwing his hands up halfway in the air. "I can always opt for the salad bar or something too, I guess."
"Well, in that case, tell your girlfriend that her cooking absolutely sucks," Carmella said, wrinkling her face at the mention of Nikki Bella's name. She was still absolutely livid that Nikki had returned tonight, stealing the headlines once again and pinning her of all people. "She needs to lay off the burgers if she wants to be lean like me."
John shook his head with a wry smile on his face. "Well I'm sure you're in great shape...Carmella, isn't it? Sorry, I'm still trying to get well acquainted with some of the new callups from NXT," he said. He was given a dirty look by Carmella, before her look changed to that of a cocky one.
"That's Carmella, the Princess of Staten Island! And don't you forget it honey," Carmella sassed Cena, reaching into his fridge and pulling out a Gatorade. "You'll remember the name soon enough. I know your girl Nikki won't soon forget it either," she smirked, knocking back the satisfying sports drink.
"Right, Staten Island...I totally remember you now. But uh, how did you get on my tour bus exactly? I only have two keys to unlock it and-" John started, but Carmella cut him off.
"Yeah, you have two keys. One belongs to you and the other belongs to Nicole," Carmella said, dragging Nikki's name with sass like only she could. "Well, poor little Nikki doesn't realize that she was in such a rush to leave the arena, that she left her tour bus key behind right in the open. I mean, how irresponsible right? Anybody could have picked this up…"
John immediately facepalmed himself. How in the hell could Nikki forget her key to his bus of all things? That woman was always losing her stuff and leaving it behind in places that thieves could find it. "Well, I guess I should thank you for finding it for me, even if you waited until we were all the way on the highway to reveal yourself," John sighed, closing up the fridge door.
"Hey, if I brought it to you beforehand, you wouldn't have let me on the bus, now would you?" Carmella prattled, tapping her fingers on the side of the fridge as she stared at John. When she received no answer but a look of confusion, she smiled. "My point precisely. But don't worry, I promise I'll give it back to Nicole on Tuesday, okay?" she said, in her most sincere voice possible.
"Yeah right," John said, reaching out to grab the key, but Carmella quickly shoved it back into her black jacket pocket. "Carmella, quit playing. I need that key," John pleaded, holding out his hand.
"Okay then, I'll give it to you, John." Carmella lowered her voice while stepping closer to him, "but...you gotta give me something first," she bit her lower lip locking her eyes to his.
"Really now?" John left his tone ambiguous, he was far from naive and knew exactly what Carmella was doing-she obviously wanted to play a game to get under Nikki's skin. "So we're making some sort of deal?"
"I guess you can say that," the golden blonde circled around him, "but even better," John's eyes stayed on her as she again flashed the key in his face. "We're playing my kind of game." Carmella handed John the key giving a small smile as he sighed in relief.
"Thanks, Carmella," he took the key and slid it into his back pocket. "Look, whatever beef you have with Nicole-"
"I'll leave it in the ring," she interjected before he could finish, "I promise." Giving another smirk Carmella ran her hands through her hair. "You mind if I use your shower?"
John raised a brow shaking the image out of his head. "Sure, go ahead." With that he placed he flopped back onto his couch and turned his music back up. These new NXT call ups' were something else weren't they?
Ever since the brand split was announced and the draft had taken place, Shane McMahon was placed in charge as the commissioner of SmackDown by his father Vince. The Chairman of WWE had wanted to stir up the heated competition between Shane and his own sister Stephanie in order to: well ultimately, make money because that was the only language Vince had ever spoken these days.
And now that tonight's first ever co-branded PPV SummerSlam was over, Shane couldn't help but let that million dollar smile shine wide across his face. Cena and Styles had delivered the match of the night, while Ambrose and Ziggler had delivered one hell of a championship contest to go along with it.
Chew on that Steph, he thought to himself with a smirk.
Still, for all of the triumphs and successes that SmackDown had endured tonight, Shane really had the biggest downfall of the night when he had to step into the ring to stop Randy Orton's beatdown at the hands of the Beast Incarnate, Brock Lesnar. But what did he get for his troubles in trying to protect his brand's superstar?
One vicious F-5.
That shit felt like a pickup truck had hit him head on. He was still reeling from the pain, clutching his ribs and trying to shake the slight dizziness he was feeling from his mind. Brock would get his one day, Shane-O knew that for a fact.
"Hey Shane! Shane, wait up for a minute!" Shane turned around with a bit of a surprised look on his face, seeing Alexa Bliss run towards him as he headed to the parking lot. "Hey boss, can I talk to you really quick? If now's not a good time-" Alexa started, but Shane paused her mid-sentence.
"Listen Alexa, I would love to talk to you right now, but I've got to get to my car and head to the airport. Boring, corporate stuff that you do not wanna hear about," Shane interjected, with a slight chuckle thrown in for good measure. "If it's really urgent, I'd recommend you talk to your general manager about it."
Alexa crossed her arms, balling her hands into fists and clutching them tight at the thought of their general manager. "I don't want to talk to Daniel. He's a condescending asswipe who thinks he's the shit just because he's in a position of power. I think that goatface gets off on insulting other people. You need to talk to Mrs. Bella Shane!" Alexa exclaimed.
"Did he make fun of your height again?" Shane asked, trying to stifle a small laugh.
"...yes he did, but that's besides the point damn it! I'm 5 feet of fury! Please tell me you'll at least make time to talk to me on Tuesday?" the spiteful woman pleaded. She did not want to deal with that smug look on Daniel's face come Tuesday.
Shane chuckled before continuing, "yes, I promise I will book you a meeting with me on Tuesday. Stop by the GM's office first thing Tuesday afternoon before SmackDown starts, alright?"
"Oh thank God," Alexa perked up with excitement, placing a small kiss on Shane's cheek before prancing off. "Thank you so much!" Alexa shouted, as she walked away, leaving Shane there standing in his thoughts.
The ladies still love me, Shane thought to himself. Making sure nobody was around, he dropped his bag to the ground momentarily to do his patented 'here comes the money' dance. The oldest McMahon son was definitely feeling himself.
And so was someone else apparently.
With their headlights turned on and all the way bright to the max, a car's engine immediately roared to life, and a foot slammed down hard on the gas pedal to the max. With the motor now roaring like a beast, the car immediately turned the corner and had Shane McMahon in its sights.
By the time Shane had turned around to realize what was coming directly at him, the lights of fate had already shone upon him. The vehicle collided with Shane head on, knocking his body high up into the air onto the hood of another nearby car. The vehicle then sped out of the parking lot, and onto the open roads, leaving behind a very, broken body in its wake.
I really hope that you guys enjoyed this first chapter of my new story, Day of Reckoning Blue! The fun is just getting started, so stay tuned for Chapter 2, and be on the lookout for its companion story Day of Reckoning Red as well. Thanks for reading guys and see you next time!