From the Architect's Archives

August 2012 – Tampa, Florida

Seth Rollins readjusted the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder as he walked across the FCW parking lot. It was times like these that he missed the Midwest. Summer nights here in Florida were miserable. A rainstorm had swept through while he was working out, but it hadn't taken the humidity down an inch. If anything, it felt worse now. But then again, he wouldn't be living here for much longer.

He'd like to say that the news hadn't come as a surprise, that he'd been confident this day would come sooner rather than later. And he was confident. It's just that it was a weird feeling, that's all. He was suddenly getting everything he'd ever wanted, and he wasn't sure he knew what to do with it.

Seth had been so lost in thought that he'd opened the door of his car and nearly sat down before he realized there was somebody already lounging in the passenger seat.

"What the hell?" said Seth.

Dean Ambrose leaned forward so he could grin up at Seth, who had jumped back and was standing a safe distance away.

"Relax, Rollins," said Dean, "I just wanted to talk."

"How did you get into my car?" Seth demanded.

"You forgot to lock it, genius," said Dean.

Seth shook his head. He could swear that he hadn't. He never left his car unlocked.

"Well, get out," he ordered.

"Alright, geez. Don't have kittens."

Dean's condescending nonchalance was doing nothing to lessen Seth's irritation. Seth glared at him as he stood up and folded his arms on the roof of the car, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of his arms. Seth didn't know how Dean managed to be this infuriating in literally everything he did.

"What do you want, Ambrose?" said Seth.

He was tired. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep. Having to deal with a guy who hadtried to tear his face off repeatedly was not appreciated.

"You're getting called up to the main roster this fall, right?" Dean asked.

Seth blinked. Dean shouldn't know about that. FCW was a highly competitive little microcosm. It wasn't unheard of for somebody's rival to try to sideline them with an injury, in the hopes of taking their place. That's why anybody who did get called up kept quiet about it, and the brass did, too. Seth was suddenly a lot more nervous about being alone in a parking lot at night with Dean Ambrose. But then again, if Dean had wanted to beat the tar out of him, he would've just done that without bothering to strike up a conversation.

"Who told you?" said Seth.

"Nobody," said Dean, "I did a little investigating on my own."

Seth had the distinct feeling that what Dean called investigating, other people would call breaking and entering. He sighed forcefully, and Dean remained blithely unaware of his annoyance.

"Yeah," he said, "What's your point?"

"It just so happens that I'm getting called up, too," said Dean.

"Really?" Seth said flatly.

Dean straightened up in indignation.

"Yes, really," he said, "I don't appreciate that kind of negativity."

Oh, for the love of… Seth rubbed his forehead. Why was he doing this? Talking to Dean Ambrose was like intentionally walking into quicksand. You always had a hell of a time getting out.

"Would you just stop beating around the bush, already?" said Seth.

"Alright, alright. Keep your shirt on," said Dean.

Seth fumed silently as Dean walked around to the driver's side of the car and leaned up against it. Whatever he was up to, the fact that he was staying so calm and collected about it made Seth mad for some reason.

"I was just thinking-"

"Try not to strain yourself," Seth muttered.

"Cute," Dean said, nonplussed.

It'd been stupid of him to interrupt. The last thing he wanted to do was prolong this weirdness, but the snark slipped out before Seth could stop himself. After grimacing at him, Dean started over.

"I was just thinking, we could both go up there and let ourselves get kicked around by a bunch of so-called legends who think any young guy has to pay his dues by making them look good, or…"

Dean trailed off. This was ridiculous. Dean was deliberately baiting him into contributing to this conversation. Seth stared at him until the silence grew awkward, but Dean just waited. Clearly, the only way to make him get to the point was to play along. Fine. Seth gritted his teeth.

"Or what?" he said.

"Or," said Dean, dragging out the word, "We could team up."

That… was absurd. There's no way he heard that correctly.

"Team up," Seth repeated.

"Right."

"You and me?"

"That's the plan."

"Ambrose, we can't stand each other."

"So?" Dean shrugged, "We don't have to like each other to work together."

Seth opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't for the life of him think of a good counterpoint. As soon as the suggestion was presented, his mind began processing, analyzing, calculating the logistics. Based on their respective skills and move-sets, they probably could make a good team. Just think about all the double-team moves they could –

Wait. Damn it.

He was intrigued. Worse than that, he was fascinated. How did this happen? Why was he taking this seriously? It was ridiculous. It was ludicrous. It… it just might work.

"A team," said Seth, "Just you and me?"

"Well, not just," said Dean, "I was thinking it might work better as a three-man team. All we need is a heavy hitter."

"Who do you have in mind?" said Seth.

"I had my eye on the Samoan boy wonder," said Dean, "Roman Reigns."

"I could see that," said Seth, nodding slowly.

Reigns was a hell of a hard worker, even if he was a complete rookie. He'd improved faster than anyone Seth had seen. At this point, you could barely tell that he hadn't gone through the indie circuit like most of the rest of them had.

Seth couldn't deny it. The strategic part of his mind kicked into overdrive at the thought of adding Reigns into the mix. Combining the skill-sets of himself and Ambrose and Reigns could result in an unstoppable force. If they could manage to work together, that is.

And the more Seth thought about it, the more he found himself actually liking this plan. He could see it now – three young guys, eager to prove themselves, willing and able to kick down walls and destroy any obstacle in their paths. With a team like that, they could run this business, and nobody would be able to stop them.

The potential was almost limitless. God, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Seth looked back at Dean, a grin spreading across his face. Dean's eyes lit up in anticipation. Seth was hooked, and he knew it.

"Have you talked to Reigns about this?" said Seth.

"Not yet," said Dean, "Every time I get near the guy, he looks like he's scared that I'm gonna bite him or something."

"In his defense, you have bitten him. In multiple matches," Seth said drily.

Dean tilted his head, like he'd forgotten that had ever happened, and shrugged dismissively.

"Whatever," he said, "Reigns'll come around. But what about you? You in, or no?"

Seth pursed his lips. In this business, no one could afford to make alliances lightly. And up until this point, he and Dean had fought like cats and dogs. Still… this was an opportunity to do something big. For three guys to come up to the main WWE roster as a team was unprecedented. If they could make it work, they could make history. There's no way Seth could pass this up.

"If you get Reigns," he said, "Then I'm in."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Dean grinned, "Later, Rollins."

And with that, Dean clapped him on the shoulder and sauntered off, leaving Seth standing beside the car, watching him walk away.

xXx

"Hey, Rollins. Can I talk to you for a second?"

Seth looked up to see Roman Reigns leaning against the wall of FCW's locker room. Judging by the confused look on Roman's face, Seth guessed that Dean must've gotten around to talking to him. Seth closed his locker and straightened up.

"Sure. What is it?" said Seth.

"I just got cornered by Dean Ambrose, and he was going on about teaming up or something," said Roman, "Said he'd already talked to you about it. Is he for real, or…?"

"Guess so," said Seth, "Yeah, he brought it up to me last night. And if he talked to you, too, it sounds like he means it."

"Huh," Roman's brow furrowed, "I told him I needed to think it over, just so he'd leave me alone. I figured there was no way you'd agree to something like that."

"Well…" Seth hesitated.

Roman's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Seriously?" he said.

"It's just, from a practical standpoint," said Seth, "If you think about it, all three of us have such different styles, and we're good at them, too. And if we teamed up, it could actually sorta… work."

Wow. Talk about a lame defense. Good going, Rollins. Roman is sure to be sold on the idea now.

"I don't know, man," said Roman, "I mean, do you really think we can trust him?"

"Well, he's not-" Seth frowned, trying to think of a way to word this, "Ambrose functions on a whole other level, but he's not, y'know, duplicitous or anything. If he was gonna start something with you, he'd do it face to face. I dunno if he's honorable or just that audacious. But I guess what I mean to say is yeah, I do think we can trust him."

Roman frowned, unconvinced. Seth was having a hard time believing it himself. The fact that he was more ready to trust the crazy guy who bites people than Roman Reigns was… well, it wasn't exactly promising. Seth couldn't really explain what it was that made him so favorably disposed towards this crazy scheme, except that maybe he liked the challenge. Maybe he wanted to do this, to make it work, just to prove that he could. If it did work, being a part of something like this made certain that people would remember your name. Remember all of their names. And what was wrong with that?

"I know I haven't worked in this business as long as you two," said Roman, "But I've been part of it my whole life, and I'm having a hard time thinking of teams that didn't end up combusting, y'know, spectacularly. Even if I agree to team up – and let me tell you, that's not likely – I just… It can't last forever. You know that, Rollins."

"Nothing does," said Seth, "I get it. At the end of the day, it's every man for himself trying to win the titles. But that doesn't mean we're gonna end up like all those other teams. Like I always say, if you learn from other people's mistakes, you never have to make your own."

"Just the two guys I was looking for."

Speak of the devil. Dean Ambrose had appeared in the locker room out of nowhere. He jerked his chin towards the door.

"Come on," he said, "I'm calling a meeting."

Dean turned and started walking without waiting for an answer. A trace of annoyance crossed Roman's face, and Seth imagined that they were both thinking the same thing. Why should they take orders from Dean Ambrose, of all people? What gave him the right? And – perhaps most baffling of all – why had they both followed after him without hesitation?

It was late. Pretty much everyone had already gone home at this point, except for the three of them. Dean led the way to a small conference room and flicked on the lights, gesturing for Seth and Roman to go inside.

Seth, already having made up his mind to just go with this madness, pulled out one of the chairs that surrounded the long table and made himself comfortable. Roman still looked a little apprehensive about the whole business. He stopped only a few feet into the room and folded his arms, glancing around awkwardly. Dean pulled the door shut, and then strutted towards the head of the table.

"You gonna sit down, big man?" said Dean, hitting Roman lightly on the arm as he passed.

Roman wrinkled his nose in confusion. He glanced over at Seth, and questioningly mouthed the words "Big man?". Seth could only shrug. All things considered, he thought Roman would probably prefer that nickname over 'the Samoan boy wonder.'

But Roman grabbed the chair next to Seth's and settled in, only a little reluctantly. Dean pulled a chair back - not to sit down in, but to give himself enough room to perch on the table.

"So," he said, "Any questions?"

Apparently, Dean was taking the direct approach tonight. Quite a switch from the runaround he'd given Seth yesterday, and Seth would be lying if he said he didn't prefer this instead. If only because he assumed it'd be less headache-inducing. Hopefully.

"I've got one," said Roman.

Dean nodded and gestured for him to go ahead. Roman leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, to bluntly ask:

"Why?"

That… was a good question. Probably something Seth should've thought to ask last night. But he'd been so absorbed in planning out the how, he hadn't stopped to wonder about the why. Why did Dean Ambrose want to start a team? It was a pretty shocking change of heart for a guy who'd made no secret about his disinterest in making friends here.

"Let's be honest, here," said Dean, "The brass isn't bringing us upstairs because they believe in us or anything. It's because they think we're marketable in some way. It's not that hard to see why, for you two. You both can be pigeonholed nicely – Rollins as a high-flying, high-risk ninja, and Reigns here can bring the thunder like he belongs in Asgard. I'm not sure what it is they see in me, exactly, but I'm pretty sure it ain't my charm and good looks."

Roman snorted amusedly, and Dean flashed him a grin. Seth, on the other hand, was contemplating doing some reality testing exercises because, good God, Dean Ambrose was actually making sense.

"We're three talented men, right?" Dean went on, "Chances are we'd all be fine on our own up there. But what happens if fine isn't good enough? I'll tell you what. I'd get fired right off the bat for not fitting in as a cookie-cutter WWE Superstar. Rollins, you'd end up getting fed to whatever monster they're trying to build up. It happens to guys like you all the time. And Reigns? If you falter for a second, if they get it into their heads that you aren't on the same level as the rest of us, they'll turn on you like that because you don't deserve to be here."

The chair nearly clattered to the floor as Roman shoved it away to stand up forcefully.

"You listen to me-" he growled.

"No, hang on. Hang on a second," said Seth, "He's not wrong."

Dean looked slightly surprised that Seth was taking his side on this. Roman whirled back to Seth, a glare of resentment blazing in his eyes. Interesting. So Roman was touchy about people thinking he didn't his place in this business, huh? Never would've guessed that. He always seemed so confident. But to react that strongly to the suggestion meant that it was a sensitive point for –

Oh, what the hell was he doing? Seth hurriedly filed away those strategic musings. It was bad enough that he'd automatically started analyzing an ally's weaknesses, but he couldn't help it. People were just fascinating to him – how they thought, and how they reacted to things, and all the noble and terrible things that made up their character. Wanting to figure out what made someone tick was a quirk Seth had always had. But now wasn't the time for it. He had a big, angry Samoan guy's temper to diffuse.

"I'm not saying you don't deserve to be here, because you do," said Seth, "I've never seen anyone work harder and improve quicker than you. I'm saying that Dean's right about all the things that could go wrong. As, like, a collective entity? The WWE Universe can be brutal, and merciless, and unfair. And so can the brass. It's too damn easy for someone's whole career to get stalled out if the deck just happens to get stacked against him. Because, let's face it, what can one guy do against all that?"

Roman had cooled off some as he listened to Seth, and Dean nodded eagerly, seeing that Seth was understanding.

"But they can't push us around if we stick together," said Dean, "If the three of us can get on the same page, there's nothing they can do about it. We make the demands. We run this yard. It's not about ratings, it's about right and wrong. It's about honor, and principles. Anything less is an injustice. And we are gonna step up and do something about it."

As Dean spoke, Seth had noticed something different about him. In Seth's experience, Dean Ambrose only had two settings. He was either the evasive, dismissive trickster, or the unhinged maniac. In both cases, he was cold and closed-off. But when Dean talked like this, Seth could see a sort of fire in him. This was the first time he'd ever heard Dean sound truly passionate about something. It was the first time Dean had seemed to be really alive. And it looked like Roman had noticed it, too.

"The world is ending, boys," said Dean, "FCW – everything we built here – it's all about to turn to dust. It's not gonna count for a damn thing. Now, the way I see it, we can either roll over and die, or we can fight. Are you with me?"

There was silence in the wake of that question. Roman folded his arms, fixing Dean with a piercing gaze. After a moment, Dean started to squirm a little, clearly uncomfortable about being examined with such intense scrutiny. Seth couldn't blame him. Roman Reigns had a way of looking at you like he could see right into your heart, or soul, or something.

"What?" Dean demanded.

A faint smile pulled at Roman's mouth. He held Dean's gaze for a second longer.

"I'm in," he said.

Roman held out his hand. A slow grin spread across Dean's face. He leapt down from the table and seized Roman's hand, laughing. They both turned to look questioningly at Seth.

Well, he'd gone and done it now. This was not at all how Seth had pictured making his WWE debut. This… this was better. Seth pushed himself to his feet and shrugged.

"I told you I was in if you could get Reigns," he said, "You did, so it looks like I'm with you, too."

He smiled and reached out to shake hands with Dean as well. As he did, he noticed that Dean's knuckles were all scuffed up. Well, he was a brawler, wasn't he? He did a lot of punching. Seth was going to have to try to convince him to tape up his fists before matches. Or maybe he could wear gloves or something? That might look cool.

"Look, if we're gonna do this," said Roman, "You guys gotta lay off calling me by my last name. You can just call me Roman, alright?"

Dean nodded.

"Alright, then. Roman, Seth, Dean," he said, gesturing at them and himself in turn, "Sound good?"

Funny. It was weird hearing Dean say his name without screaming it in a threat or a challenge. But Seth supposed he could get used to it. And he supposed he could get used to the heavy-handed way Roman clapped him on the back. It was nice, and Roman clearly meant well, even if the guy didn't know his own strength.

"As long as we're all together," said Seth, "I had some ideas about-"

"I knew you would," Dean interrupted, with a knowing smirk, "But I don't talk strategy on an empty stomach. Come on. Let's get something to eat, and then Seth can tell us what we're gonna be practicing for the next couple months."

"What are we gonna find to eat this late?" Roman asked as they trooped out into the hallway.

"Pizza," Dean replied, as if that should be obvious, "It's a college town, isn't it? There's always pizza. But we're not getting any stupid toppings, like pineapple or whatever, got it?"

"What's wrong with pineapple?" said Roman.

"It's a fruit," said Dean, "Putting fruit on pizza is unnatural."

"Hate to break it to you, Dean," Seth interjected, "But tomatoes are a fruit."

"They are not!" said Dean.

Seth stayed out of the conversation a while, listening amusedly as Dean and Roman argued about tomatoes for a minute before circling back to argue over what kind of pizza they'd get. He'd known that Roman was generally a pretty easy-going guy, but this? This was impressive. Looked like he really could make friends with anyone, if he put his mind to it.

Dean led the way out to the parking lot, and Seth and Roman followed. In all likelihood, Roman was right. Something like this couldn't last forever. But maybe it could last just long enough.

(Note: I know, I know. It was a long wait for a short-ish chapter. Things got a little hectic around here for a bit, but I'm pretty sure I'll be back on track with getting these things posted a little quicker now. Thank you to all the lovely people who left reviews!)