Took longer than expected but I've finally worked out how to move forward and introduce Dean Ambrose, so hopefully this time I'll be able to keep things moving a little quicker re: updates. We'll see. Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed so far :)

For reference, here is the Youtube link for Renee's interview with Paul Heyman that is quoted in the opening. It's the only form of character development she's been given on TV so I thought I may as well use it ;)

[slash]watch?v=_AoZZiqVeFA

'Tell me something, Renee; how is your relationship with your father nowadays? Is it better than it was before? Have you talked to the man in the past two years? Maybe you'd like to discuss in public why your uncle had to rip your prom date out of the limousine? It's a matter of public record, isn't it? Why did you and your fiancée break up two months ago in Los Angeles, Renee? It's not fun talking about your personal life on TV, is it?'

The memory still made Renee tear up even now. Paul Heyman's smug, condescending voice laying bare some of the most painful and private details of her life for millions to hear. That day she learnt the hard way why they said never to trust anybody in this business. All it took was for sensitive information to find its way to some of the roster's more vindictive and unscrupulous members and all of a sudden the whole world knew your secrets, literally.

Since then Sami had been the only person within WWE who she'd allowed to glimpse the corridors of contradiction and self-doubt that lay beyond the TV-ready smile. He was the only one who exuded enough genuine compassion and warmth that she could guarantee he would never use any of it against her further down the road.

She'd thought her time away from him was almost up, but upon arriving at the arena for Smackdown a sizeable spanner was thrown in the works. Instead of heading back down to Florida tomorrow, she was instead to report to Stamford to film links for various upcoming DVDs and WWE Network programming. While she was immensely proud and honoured to have established herself as the go-to girl whenever something needed presenting or introducing, it was hard to look on the bright side when her already-limited time she had with the man she loved was being further restricted.

She dreaded Sami's reaction as much as anything else. His placid, affable demeanour went out of the window when it came to being denied the two most important things in his life. Part of her lived in constant fear that one day he would decide that, if he were to take his rightful place atop WWE, then the heartache of retaining a relationship in such circumstances was a distraction he could do without. She didn't know quite what she would do if that day came. She'd hardly made a good to job of surviving in this madhouse alone before he came along; things were bound to be ten times worse now she'd experienced the joys of having someone by her side through it all.

This was very much the typical dinner-time scene backstage; each table in catering taken up by a different clique while Renee herself sat in splendid isolation. It must be nice to belong, she thought, but the risks were too great. She wasn't making that mistake again. Still, it would be nice for someone to at least acknowledge her existence.

"Why so glum?"

Renee nearly jumped out of her seat. She'd been practically falling asleep and hadn't noticed that she had most unexpected company at her table. The Shield were simultaneously some her favourite and least favourite interviewees; always engaging and entertaining, but with an air of unhinged menace that meant it was impossible to ever truly relax and enjoy the time spent picking the brains of three of WWE's brightest young talents. Now, perhaps the most unstable and intimidating of the trio sat opposite her, an uncharacteristic look of polite enquiry on his face.

"Oh, hey Dean..." she murmured with trepidation.

"...Nothing much, just dreading the trip to Stamford tomorrow."

"Oh... more Network shit, right? What have they roped you in for this time; The 20 Greatest Turnbuckle Pad Removals of All-Time? The Making of Smackdown Backstage Pass?" Renee let out an involuntary giggle. This was just what she had needed; someone to make light of her predicament with. She just never thought Dean Ambrose would be the person to provide that.

"Yeah, something like that..." she replied with a smile.

"...How about you? Got a match tonight?"

"Seth's got Orton, so me and Roman will be playing cheerleader..." Dean said.

"...I might ask the Funkadactyls if we can borrow their pom-poms, whaddaya think?"

Renee let out another more prolonged and less inhibited laugh. Where was this Dean Ambrose when the cameras were rolling?

"I guess that answers something I've always wondered to myself," she grinned.

"And what's that?" Dean queried.

"Who the 'funny one' in the Shield is," Renee answered. Shared laughter. It was one of her favourite things in the world, and all too rare during her jaunts with the main roster.

"Oh, I've got jokes for days, darling..." Dean went on.

"...Most of them dirty, admittedly."

"Well, I am partial to a good innuendo," Renee fired back.

"OK then; stop me if you've heard this one..." Dean began with relish.

"Renee, there you are! We've been waiting for you for fifteen minutes..." an irate, Texan voice interrupted Renee's pleasant little distraction. She gave the heavy, full-bodied sigh of reality biting hard. She knew she must have forgotten something. She never had this much time to herself unless one of her many commitments had slipped her mind. She was supposed to be filming material for the JBL and Cole Show at this very minute.

"Come on, everyone's ready apart from you," JBL continued in an anxious bluster. Renee reluctantly got to her feet. Initially, her repartee with her broadcast colleague on the webshow had come from a genuine friendship, but landing the General Manager's role at NXT had further swollen his already sizeable ego. She wasn't his equal anymore and he never passed on an opportunity to make her aware of it. The fact that her boyfriend had been among the biggest bees in his bonnet during his time in office no doubt made him all the more eager to lorde his authority over her.

"Were there no mirrors in your hotel room? Did you let one of those Make a Wish kids do your hair? You look godawful," he spat, surveying her. Renee bowed her head and bit her tongue. There was no use retorting. This man never lost an argument; yelling relentlessly until the other person gave up was a frustratingly effective tactic.

"You'll need at least 15 minutes in the make-up chair before you look even halfway presentable..." JBL sighed.

"...Do you know how busy I am? It's fine for you, you've got the easiest job there is around here; just be blonde and pretty... ish."

"So tell me, Mr Layfield; what is that you do that's so laborious and time-consuming?" Renee couldn't hide her relief and amusement as her new friend sized up to JBL, abandoning the genial tone he'd been using for their little chat in favour of the off-kilter swagger he was better known for.

"Well, I'm the voice of Raw and Smackdown and the General Manager of NXT," the older man replied in a tone that was 100% self-importance and 0% self-awareness.

"Right, and how many NXT tapings do you attend per month? Must average out at around 0.5," Dean asserted.

"Hey, it's difficult to find time to..." JBL began to protest.

"Difficult to find time to sit on the beach in Bermuda counting your money?" Dean finished with a sneer.

"...This lady right here is at every Raw, Smackdown and NXT, and has a far more demanding job than spouting the same soundbites on loop."

Renee stifled a belly laugh. She wished she had the guts to take a picture of JBL's face at this moment.

"So I suggest you treat her with a little more respect, John Boy," Dean concluded, his nose mere inches from JBL's, his face twitching and contorting as it tended to do whenever he was riled up. Now Renee understood the method to the Ambrose madness; why act normal when being deranged got you results?

"Come on, Renee, let's get going," JBL implored hastily, turning away from Dean as if he couldn't do it soon enough. As she passed by Dean, Renee mouthed 'thank you' and beamed widely, with Dean miming 'any time' in response. Perhaps there were other people worth trusting in this circus after all.

Dean licked his lips. That could not have gone any better. He could be 'normal' when he wanted to, and that allowed him to have all the more twisted fun. And nothing awakened his thirst for depravity and manipulation than the so-called 'fairer' sex. He couldn't pinpoint when exactly it happened, he'd had two many failed attempts at playing the gentleman in his early adulthood for it to be even remotely possible, but the idea of a healthy, mutually gratifying romantic relationship held no appeal to him whatsoever. Women existed to be used, to be controlled, to be possessed. Any attempt to treat them as equals had brought him nothing but undeserved sorrow.

Since he and his Shield cohorts arrived in WWE, he'd been running the rule of the Divas locker room; their physiques, their personalities, their fears and insecurities, with view to finding the ideal target. Someone he could play like a puppet; using the charm he'd retained from his more well-intentioned days to endear himself to them, gradually isolating them from all other sources of support, twisting the knife ever so gently until before they knew it, they were at his mercy. They couldn't live without him and he could do whatever he liked with them, or to them.

There were some girls in that locker room whom it would be pitifully easy to lead astray. That held no interest to him. He needed a challenge; someone with intelligence and stability, yet enough drama and hang-ups going on behind the scenes to prey upon, to gradually dismantle their veneer of self-assurance.

In the past week he'd come to the conclusion that Renee Young was just perfect for this little plan. For all she seemed to have turned a corner since her early days, he knew how easily she could be made to revert to the anxious, hesitant little misanthrope she had been before Sami came on the scene. Not to mention he couldn't look at her without the filthiest, most animalistic and arousing fantasies his mind could conjure coursing around his brain. But he knew it would all be his in due course.

She was a loner, she'd had an engagement blow up in her face, she'd had a troubled childhood, she'd been put through the wringer by the WWE's resident 'mean girls'. She was a ticking timebomb, a meltdown waiting to happen, and he'd see to it that when the inevitable occurred he'd be there to pick up the pieces. But he had no intention of putting them back together.