11. It's Got To Rain Sometimes

WWE developmental training was no joke: Charlotte quickly reminded herself of this as she sunk onto a mat outside of one of the training rings and chugged down a bottle of water. Admittedly, before moving to Tampa she assumed the training wouldn't be too draining: maybe some rope-running, cardio drills and so on. But that was not even close to the two hours of drills and training she had just finished up with. Bill DeMott and his team put all of the trainees through hell, and he seemed to be extra tough on relative newbie Sheena Sometimes, who had a hell of a reputation to live up to. The developmental system was very humbling, and more than enough to break the arrogance of even the most tenured of professional wrestlers.

And of course, the day was nowhere near done yet. Next on the list for the developmental talents was promo class: a daunting task for even the best talkers. Charlie headed to the locker room to grab a quick shower and then headed back into the main corridors of the training building, surrounded by numerous other wrestlers. Some looked more nervous than usual, and as Charlie overheard a conversation taking place nearby, she quickly understood why.

"Can you believe Triple H is actually here today?" One newer talent – whose name Charlie just could not remember – muttered to another wrestler she recognized as Jason Jordan.

"I know, right? It's so out of nowhere. Do you think he's scouting?" Both men went quiet and shuffled into the promo room, leaving Charlie stood outside still pondering.

Hell of a day to make an impression, she thought to herself as a smirk crept up her face. Admittedly she was no Ric Flair on the microphone, but Charlotte Sometimes was certainly known for holding her own. Working with big names such as CM Punk and Colt Cabana for years had given her more than enough opportunity to become a comfortable talker, and in any case, she was definitely more capable than many of the other developmental "rookies".

"Aren't you coming in?" Charlie looked up quickly to see Tenille – now known as the dancing Emma – smiling and waving a hand in her face, gesturing towards the door. "It's supposed to be a big day today..."

"Yeah, I've heard," Charlie replied, leaving it simply at that. The two women shared an excited smile and entered the large room, which had already filled up with talents.

"Come on, come on," Dusty Rhodes called in his Southern drawl, beckoning all to sit and pay attention. "I'm sure y'all may have heard that we've got an important visitor today." Whispers and shuffles began to fill the room. "Ladies and gentleman – Mr. Paul Levesque is taking over class today."

The roster applauded as the man known as Triple H sauntered to the front of the room, looking around at those before him with his menacing yet somewhat kind gaze.

"Alright," he began swiftly. "I'm sure you're all aware of how important promo ability is. Me taking over talent development means I want to see development. I want to see some more kick-ass talkers. I know there are some in this room already..." Out of the corner of her eye, Charlie could have sworn that she noticed some heads turn towards Jon's direction. "So let's get to it."

He stepped out of the way to allow Dusty to return to the centre of the room with his clipboard, ushering the first on the list onto the stage. Promo class was as was to be expected. Developmental talents were rarely known for their verbal skills, but Charlie watched intently as numerous men and women came on and off the stage to cut promos – and occasionally perform short skits – on their made-up feuds and angles. Emma's clownish humour produced laughs all round, and the comfortable verbiage of those such as Kassius Ohno seemed to take the interest of most in the room. Following each promo, Dusty gave brief comments – praise and/or constructive criticism – but Paul's input seemed to be less frequent and more calculated.

Something changed in the room when Jon – fully in Dean Ambrose mode – sauntered onto the stage with an unusual sense of confidence and stood firmly centre-stage making sure all were paying attention. And that they did. Whenever Jon Moxley spoke, everybody listened; that was what he was known for. It was no different for Dean Ambrose, who as he began to concoct an intricate story about his feud with Seth Rollins, had everybody watching him as if he was about to be in the Wrestlemania main event. Although Charlie was familiar with Jon's verbal style and ability, something about watching him here, in a developmental promo class, unsettled her. She couldn't look away from him as he spoke: his piercing blue eyes darting around the room, his constantly altering yet somehow frightening facial expressions, but most of all, the way he spat out each word with such malice and emotion that she found herself forgetting that it wasn't "real".

"Great job," commented Paul, surprising most in the room; even the trainers.

"Definitely," Dusty concurred. "But make sure you're enunciating," he added, drawing out the word for emphasis. "We want the audience to think you're a madman, not a drunk."

His comment drew laughs out of almost everyone, including Jon. He shrugged graciously as he walked back to his seat. Even now, Charlie was still intently focussed on him. Her eyes trailed his movements, even despite the fact that Dusty was now calling her to the stage for her promo.

"Sheena Sometimes, get your ass down here," he drawled, causing a blush to creep up her face in embarrassment. She had made eye contact with Jon and something about his expression told her that she had been caught with her guard down. Charlie quickly rose and hurried down to the stage, mentally trying to remember what exactly she had to say about Summer Rae.

As she stood, she took a quick glance around the room at all of the trainers watching her with undeniable interest, but most of all, taking in the calm stare of WWE's 'COO'. Looking back to the audience of her peers in front of her, she couldn't help but notice that Jon's equally calm stare had not left her.

"Thanks for costing me my first match, Summer," Charlie began once she had collected herself. She stood with the demeanour the trainers asked of her; confident, brash, a 'Diva'. "But you know what they say... don't send a Barbie to do a woman's job."

The promo continued in such fashion: the typical anti-Diva sentiments, mirroring the rebellious character that the developmental officials wanted her to portray. As Charlie rattled through the promo, insulting Summer's looks and ability, she couldn't help but feel... bored. It was the same kind of thing asked of almost all of the "different" women that came through WWE's doors. All she wanted in reality was to be able to tell a story, to really be engaging. She stifled herself as she stumbled across the thought "to be more like Moxley." But all of a sudden, she lost herself as she spoke.

"I..." she cursed under her breath, trying to get back to where she was. "I mean business, Summer. And when we get into the ring next week, I'll be making it rain."

It was nothing short of awful. A clumsy promo, awkward timing, cheesy phrases, no emotion... everything a good promo should not be. Charlie stopped and looked down, not daring to look up at the disappointed – or amused faces – or her bosses, trainers or co-workers.

"Remember that you're trying to sell something to us," Dusty said, clearly trying to be easy on her.

She nodded and went back to her seat, although quickly stealing a glance at Paul, who remained silent. Charlie could tell that right there and then, she had let him down. She had let herself down.

The class finished shortly after, and DeMott stopped her before she left the room.

"Come on, what was that?" He said, shaking his head.

"I know. I sucked."

He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "You've got a lot to prove, you know that. This is the big leagues now. Shape up, Sometimes."

He followed the crowd out of the room, leaving Charlie alone to linger on his final words. Shape up, Sometimes.

"You didn't suck that bad," a soft, yet scratchy voice sounded behind her. Charlie turned around quickly and once again she was transfixed on a pair of shocking blue eyes.

"It was awful," she replied, with a small smile. "But thanks for being nice."

He laughed and gestured towards the door for the two of them to leave.

"What happened?" He asked as they walked down the corridor together. Charlie shrugged and sighed.

"The over-hyped indy darling fails to live up to the hype, and with Triple H sitting watching."

"Come on, you don't have to be so hard on yourself." He grabbed two bottles of water and handed her one. "It happens. Sometimes you have good days, sometimes you have bad days. Sometimes you forget how to be Sometimes," he joked, causing her to nudge him softly in the side.

"Well I'm Sheena now, and I don't really know how to be," she said. "Charlotte's long gone, and I think she's taken all the talent with her."

The corridor had emptied out, leaving Jon and Charlie leaning against a wall together. Although he was looking down at the ground, she had the impression that he was listening rather intently to her, and as she spoke she felt freer than she had done since she arrived at developmental.

"I've been blowing chunks during the training sessions and I just embarrassed myself in promo class. I haven't felt this out of depth in a long time," she admitted.

"It happens. You have to learn to talk again, and I have to learn how to 'grapple' again," he said, grinning.

"Really?"

Jon nodded. "That's what the trainers said. I have to tone down the Moxley and make Dean Ambrose WWE TV-worthy. And I guess for you, you've got to leave Charlotte alone and figure out who you want Sheena to be. If not, they're going to force you into being something you're not."

Charlie sighed and shook her head, leaning her head against the wall in exasperation.

"Well so far, Sheena's a total loser," she said, only half joking.

Jon shrugged again. "Then do better next time. Make her better. If you keep psyching yourself out, it's going to get worse."

"I know, but how the hell am I supposed to just turn it back on? I am so out of the zone here, I just don't get it."

"You seemed pretty..." He paused to think for a second. "Distracted. When you were out there. If you want my opinion, you've gotta get focussed on your work and you've gotta do it quick."

Charlie remained silent, considering his words with a frown.

"I'm not. I'm definitely not. I'm only interested in all of this," she said, gesturing with her hands for emphasis.

"Then prove it."

Jon stood away from the wall to stretch a little and then looked back up at Charlie and smiled. He made to walk away but she lightly grabbed his arm, which surprised the two of them. She quickly dropped her hand from his arm and stood squarely facing him.

"Help me," she said quietly. He frowned at her in confusion, but didn't drop his stance. "I mean, you help me figure out Sheena, and I'll help you figure out Dean Ambrose."

Jon chuckled and put his hands on his hips. "So what you're saying is, if I help you with your promos, you'll help me with my, uh, grappling?"

Charlie nodded excitedly. "We don't have to tell anyone else about it. It'll just be a cool little thing, you know? And besides, I could do with some FCW allies."

The two of them shared a sort of complicit smile and Charlie extended her hand for him to shake.

"I'm Charlie, by the way. I don't think we've properly met before. I'm a pretty big Moxley fan. Not sure what to make of this Ambrose fella yet, though."

"Jon," he said, firmly grasping her smaller hand. "I walked pass Charlotte Sometimes backstage at some indy show once and she totally ignored me. So I hate her guts."

She laughed and let her hands drop to her hips, mirroring his earlier stance.

"Well, I can't apologize for her, but I can definitely say you'll get along with Charlie Rogers. Maybe even this Sheena chick."

"I hope so. Just as long as she never threatens her opponents with rain again."

Charlie couldn't help but laugh in embarrassment as she buried her face in her hands. When she looked up again, Jon winked and left her side, heading back down the corridor to the locker rooms. As she turned and headed the other way towards the women's locker room, she couldn't help but smile to herself. She had just spent most of her day losing sense of who she was as a wrestler, but at the very least, she had found herself an unlikely ally, maybe even a coach. For now, that was enough for her.