Disclaimer: I own nothing WWE related. Not even lil HornSwaggle...

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Ava's POV:

I don't know how long I walked. My legs ached and my clothes were soaked. Soon enough the trees that lined the road were replaced by buildings and chain restaurants. The only hotels I saw were five-star shindigs that would cost me at least a months worth's of tips for a one-night stay. All my wallet contained was some discount cards, the "emergency" credit card my mom had maxed out months ago, and a twenty.

The city let out into a small park filled with carefully tended gardens and benches dedicated in memory of Mr. and Ms. 6-figure income. And in the center stood an arena that could probably seat thousands.

I searched the building for any unlocked doors - no luck. Frustrated, I slammed my fist into the concrete exterior. Then it hit me - if there was a show or a game tonight at least one door had to be unlocked for the tech crew.

It took me a half-hour, but I found one. I snuck in as quietly as I could, considering the door was in well need of some WD-40. There were theatre-style seats, each level slightly higher than the first. But most peculiar was a cage of exotic birds in the middle of the otherwise empty arena floor.

I took a few steps closer to get a better look at them. Their feathers were the most vibrant of colors ranging from a stunning gold to deep, royal purples. The smallest but fiercest one of the group was no bigger than my fist.

Being so enthralled with the birds, I never heard the footsteps in the back row of seats. It took a sharp yell to snap me out of my trance.

"Hey! You can't be in here. Show's not until tomorrow night."

Now, if I'd been stranded under better circumstances, I'd probably tried to explain my situation. But with a major headache and a sore fist, I wasn't in the best of moods. I spun on my heels to size this guy up.

Making note of his lack of uniform, I guessed he wasn't with security. In fact, he wore a plain black t-shirt, black-and-green cargo pants, and black and green armbands. His hair was a wild shade of blonde - almost like he had dyed it red, changed his mind, and dyed it back blonde without stripping it. I doubted that style would fly with management.

"I'm not here for a show. I'm here to get out of the rain. But I'm dry now, so I'm leaving." Obviously, he saw through my lie. I tried to clench a fist, but my muscles were too stiff. The best I could manage was a half-claw.

"Right." He paused, looking me over. "How long have you been out there?"

I snorted. "Long enough."

To my suprise and displeasure, he chuckled. "Alright, well,...I'm probably going to get shit for this, but you look too young to be out on the streets-"

I stopped him mid sentence. "Look, I'm not a bum or some street-walking crack-whore. My mother took off with her boyfriend and left me stranded. I'll find a hotel for the night and catch a bus out of here tomorrow." I locked eyes with him, trying to force him to back off first. He didn't budge. Instead, he seemed to be weighting something in his mind. "What?"

He gave a little half-smile. "I'm trying to figure out if you're a Kennedy fan, or just don't know who the hell I am."

It was my turn to smirk. "Obviously you're some athlete with and over-inflated ego who thinks he has to play the bleeding heart."

"Ok, retract the claws." His eyes traveled down the length of my right arm and stopped at my bleeding hand. "Damn. I don't know who got it worse - you or the wall."

My knuckles were bleeding profusely. "Shit." I muttered, grabbing for my shirt. With lightning-fast reflexes he reached out and grabbed my hand. Instictively, I swung with my left. He ducked.

Without missing a beat he said: "No need to make laundry." He reached into his left side pocket with is free hand and pulled out a roll of white gauze. "Never know when you'll need this in the business." I let him bandage my hand without argument.

"What is 'the business' exactly?"

The blonde raised his eyebrows slightly, then lowered them. "Well, your story checks out. You're obviously not from around here. Its wrestling."

Nervously, I laughed. "My ex is crazy over wrestling. Never took me out on a Monday night. I watched a few matches, but I was never a fanatic." He ripped the gauze with his teeth and tucked the end piece in.

"And you have no idea who I am?" He looked up for the first time since grabbing my hand.

"Frankly, no." I replied.

"Interesting." He looked to both sides, seeing if anyone was coming. "Stay here. I know a guy who could help you out." Tucking the gauze back in his pocket, he walked towards the door. Casually, he leaned his back into the door to open it. "If you can manage it, sneak back here around two. This door is never locked." And then he was gone.

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A/N: A lot has changed from the dream to the story. It was actually a cage or monkeys, but birds fit better. I wasn't this bitchy, I really just wanted help. I never punched a wall, but its something I would do in the situation. And I extended the dialogue a bit.