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Home ~ Chapter One
By ~ MÃstico Lobo
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Three weeks later...
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He had been healed from his wound for over two weeks now, but the WWF wouldn't let him back. Not until he was 'fully' healed... Tsk. They were just afraid that he'd try to do something to Angle for doing what he did... He glared from under his shades as he stalked into the stadium where only privileged people, which meant no jabronis who were wannabe ass kissers (how most of the guys here got in, he didn't know), were allowed. Having a one-track mind, he didn't notice how beautiful the weather was outside in the city of Sacramento. It was three o'clock, but he had thought it would be better on his part if he should arrive before everyone else; not to mention that he had some...business to deal with.
The sun outside was indeed very bright. It shinned through the glass, creating a definite happy glow inside the halls and rooms. The green, potted plants aligned evenly apart in the halls held perky leaves that reached toward the sun. Even the reflecting light on the mirrors and other various glasses did not waver his attention to where he was headed. Vince had been avoiding his phone calls and refused to return them. Face to face he couldn't run from him. There was no place to run.
He stopped when his eye caught the familiar sign of his name mounted on a door. He hadn't realized that he had walked straight to the dressing rooms until he saw that small sign but, nevertheless, why waste an extra trip? Gripping the handles to his sports bag, he opened the door and stalked inside. He hardly paid attention to it as he threw down the bag on a bench. From his experience, if you saw one dressing room, you saw them all.
This was no different from the rest, except for maybe the color, which was a lighter shade of brown. The wood was dark and smooth and he doubted that, should one look under a bench or somewhere inside the cubby cabinets, previous people who have been in this particular dressing room would be found. It was usually a tradition to inscribe your name in the places where you have been. In fact, the only difference of this room was that he wasn't alone.
He hadn't noticed her at first; his mind was focused on how he would deal with Angle when he came face-to-face with him. He had even walked out of the door before he realized he had seen someone who had obviously no need to be in his dressing room... He frowned when he walked back in, observing her. She was struggling to put up a strobe. (They are the huge flashes on a rod. Remember school pictures and the two tall thingys with umbrellas on them? ::nods:: Those are strobes! ^_^) 'Strobe...?' he thought. Strobes were used for photo shoots! What in the hell was she doing setting up strobes in his dressing room, especially without his permission first? He frowned deeper as he walked over to her.
"What-" he was cut off by her squeaking in surprise and a crash when the strobe. He jumped back to keep from being knocked over by the strobe she was putting up. When the falling noise had echoed away, the woman stood up, brushing her pants off, glaring at the mess. Obviously pissed, she spun around on her heel towards him.
"Just look what- oh!" Her eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush covered her cheeks. Like the majority of all women, she wore makeup; just not nearly as much as most sluts wore. She was wearing tight black pants, probably fake leather, that hugged around her legs, showing them off as if she didn't wear any at all. Her red shirt was also tight and was short, ending about four inches above her belly button. He was slightly surprised that it wasn't pierced. That was the trendy thing to do nowadays, wasn't it? However her right ear had a cartilage pierce, so it showed that she wasn't completely trendyless. She held herself in a manner that practically screamed 'I'm beautiful and I know it.' "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were the new assistant guy."
He gave her a blank stare. Assistant guy...? How could anyone mistake him from an 'assistant guy?' Everyone knew who he was! Even people who had never watched the WWF knew who he was, how could this girl be any different? He had expected her to sputter something out when she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing, but never would he expect her to say 'assistant guy...' Or maybe she was just playing a game? A game where she would act all innocent and cute and when he 'revealed' who he was, she would widen her eyes in utter surprise and giggle, saying that she had no idea! Just how a chick would do... Well, he could play games too.
She would have noticed his confused look had she not turned around, up righting the fallen strobe. "Could you please take this," here she handed him what appeared to be a cord, but in the world of photography one could never be too sure, "and plug it into the power source? And then take the sync cord plug it into the camera?" He took it from her without saying anything, looking around for something called a 'power source.' Using common sense, he walked over to a rectangular-shaped box with various cords hanging from it. He frowned as he looked from the cord he held and to the outlets. Shrugging, he plugged it into a random one before looking around for they sync cord, something he had absolutely no idea what it was.
Figuring that he was just like the last assistant, she sighed deeply and turned around to face him after finally fixing the strobe. She wasn't very tall, maybe five-foot, four, or five at the very most. She had long wavy brown hair with red highlights, an unusual natural hair color she had inherited from her grandmother. She had also inherited her deep blue eyes, something that she had hated all of her life. Who had brown hair and blue eyes? A lot of people, but not her shade of blue or deepness of brown. When she turned to him, she giggled behind her hand. He had somehow managed to strangle his hand in the various cords.
He had no idea he had done such a foolish thing. One minute he had been reaching for a cord, the next it seemed as if his hand was magnetic to each one. Anyhow, he had been able to get his hand intertwined his hand with them. He looked up at her when he heard a sound that sent shivers of...something up and down his spine. What that something was, he didn't know.
Grinning, she sat on her knees next to the power source where his hand lay helplessly. "Well, it's no wonder why you couldn't do it. It doesn't help to have big hands. They must be terribly klutzy, I should think. No offense or anything." She grinned again at him as she began working on the cords. He watched her as she did so, not saying anything like before. There was something about her that struck a cord-he smirked at the pun-within him. Either she really did not know who he was, or she was a really good actress. He was willing to bet the latter as she finished. "There. Better?" She smiled when he nodded his thanks and stood up.
"My name is Jessie, by the way. I doubt that Fred said as much, but I'm sure you know how hectic it gets down there." She began connecting the evil cords to what appeared, to him, to be some sort of large batteries. "I don't suppose that they told you why we're here either?" She looked over her shoulder and he shook his head. She smirked lightly, and in a joking manner, said "You should win the next 'most talkative' award. Anyway," she turned back to her work, "it doesn't surprise me. Mike didn't even know, and he's my partner." She sighed and shook her head. "We have to take pictures of each room that each wrestler stays in from here to the next five months. Then Fred and his men have to chose one room each wrestler from each stadium for some project the WWF wants." Each time she said a word relating to wrestling, it sounded like she was spitting it out.
He cleared his throat, looking at her oddly. "You don't like wrestling?" She snorted.
"Was that obvious? I hate it. I hate everything and everyone that has to do with it, regardless if it's a promoter, writer, or wrestler themselves."
He frowned. "Then why are you here?"
"I love photography. There aren't that many companies out there and sometimes you just have to take what comes your way." He could definitely relate with that. "The only plus about this job is that my baby brother works here now, and I hardly get to see him anymore because of this damn company. But don't get me wrong. I love my brother and I'd do anything for him, and respect his dreams. His dream was to always be a wrestler and who am I to say no to that dream?"
He frowned at her, quite puzzled over what she had said. One minute she claimed to hate everything and every*one* in this company, and the next she claimed to love her brother. Also, he had never heard of anyone who had a sister with her description. She was obviously keeping things out. "Really..." he said doubtfully. "And just who is your brother?"
She finished putting her camera together, which reminded him of an antique. "I doubt you know him," she responded with a wave of her hand. At that dismissal, he knew she was lying. She tried to brush it off as if it was nothing of importance. "Unless you are up on dark matches, that is. He's known as "The Black Avenger." She smiled sadly as the reason for the name popped into her head for what seemed to be at least the hundredth time in the past week. Her eyes softened at the memory of her father came with it, but she shook her head, clearing her mind.
He quickly tried to think of anything related to what she had just told him, but nothing rung a bell. Most likely she was lying, so he shrugged it off. He had stayed to 'play a game,' except this game was hitting a dead end, if it had started at all. He was beginning to get bored of it and all this crap she was telling. Normally he would be 'talking' to her, catching her in her lies, but something held him back. For the second time that day, he didn't know what that something was, but he didn't worry about it. He had more important things to deal with anyway, so he decided to stop wasting his time.
However she had different ideas. Taking his standing for another reason, she disconnected the sync cord from her camera to the strobe and handed it to him, expecting him to do something with it. "Alright. This one's done..." With that she began to take down the strobes. He frowned. She smirked. "If you keep up with that, you're going to get wrinkles."
"You did all that work, only to take them down after a few lousy shots?" He would have helped her, but he thought better of it.
"Yep. And put them in there," she pointed to a box he had not noticed before, "so I can carry them room to room. It's called a 'carry case.'" If he had known better, he would have thought she was mocking him. "And it'd go a lot quicker and easier if you helped me. He mentally winced as if he had gotten slapped in his head. He didn't know why he felt so guilty, but it was there nonetheless. Walking towards her back, he was about to reach for the second strobe when the door burst open. They both turned to see a tall man with shoulder length bleached hair. He was definitely the stereotyped surfer. He had an earring in his left ear and had his hair back in a loose ponytail. He was wearing loose pants that fell below his boxers and a tight, white muscle shirt. He was chomping on his gum and listening to some heavy-metal band that blared through his headphones. "'Ey, Jessie! Sorry I'm, like, so late!" he screamed over his music. She smiled and shook her head at his childish was and turned off his CD player. "Ah, Jess!" he pouted. "Come on..."
"Not here." She turned toward her new assistant and pointed to a now speechless teenager. "This guy here is Mike, my partner. He's, well, very energetic as you can see, but he's a great kid, and extremely bright. He's one of those child geniuses that have those sad flaws to them; unfortunately his flaw is being the common surfer." She grinned at him, clearly a very close friend. "Mike, this is-eh..." her hand stopped midway up as she realized she had made a mistake. She laughed at her foolishness. "I'm sorry! I completely forgot to ask for your name."
He smirked at her, now read to see her game's reaction. He opened his mouth to talk, but Mike had already put two-and-two together. "Jessie! Can't ya see that he's The Rock!" He grinned and jumped over to him. "I knew that this was a great job, Jess!" Surprisingly, his grin grew. "Can I, like, shake your hand, man?" Rock smirked again and offered his hand. He continued to watch her reaction through her various changes. At first it was complete and utter surprise. Sure she knew that he wasn't the assistant that she had asked for-it didn't take a fool to notice he didn't know a single thing about photography-but he had a certain, childish charm to him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was because of the hand incident, as that really was the only thing that he had done in the short time they were together, but never had she imagined that he was one of *them* Then came fury. She clenched her jaw and balled her hands into tight fists and glared at him, flushing deeply. She threw her equipment into random boxes and shoved them into Mike's hands before pushing him out the door.
"It's the next one to the right. I'll meet you there," she griped.
"It was totally cool meetin' ya, dude!" Mike grinned and walked out. It was obvious that he was still excited when he was halfway there as an echoed "Sweet!" was elongated throughout the hall.
She picked up the remaining boxes and glared at him. She had felt humiliated and embarrassed. "I hop you rot tonight."
"Don't get so upset at The Rock," he smirked. "He never deceived you into believing he was your-"
"I don't care about that!" she glared as she looked over her shoulder. "A child could have seen that you don't know how to do anything right when it comes to photo."
He narrowed his eyes at he. "Then why are you pissed at-"
"Be careful with that box over there." She nodded towards a small shoebox under a bench. She left after talking, leaving a bewildered Rock behind as her last words echoed behind. "It has a bomb."
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Author's Notes: When I was typing this, I realized how boring it seemed... I tried to jazz it up with the deleting and adding of certain sentences, but it was still kind of blah: empty. Hopefully the next chapters won't be as bad. ^_^;;
Home ~ Chapter One
By ~ MÃstico Lobo
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Three weeks later...
~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'
He had been healed from his wound for over two weeks now, but the WWF wouldn't let him back. Not until he was 'fully' healed... Tsk. They were just afraid that he'd try to do something to Angle for doing what he did... He glared from under his shades as he stalked into the stadium where only privileged people, which meant no jabronis who were wannabe ass kissers (how most of the guys here got in, he didn't know), were allowed. Having a one-track mind, he didn't notice how beautiful the weather was outside in the city of Sacramento. It was three o'clock, but he had thought it would be better on his part if he should arrive before everyone else; not to mention that he had some...business to deal with.
The sun outside was indeed very bright. It shinned through the glass, creating a definite happy glow inside the halls and rooms. The green, potted plants aligned evenly apart in the halls held perky leaves that reached toward the sun. Even the reflecting light on the mirrors and other various glasses did not waver his attention to where he was headed. Vince had been avoiding his phone calls and refused to return them. Face to face he couldn't run from him. There was no place to run.
He stopped when his eye caught the familiar sign of his name mounted on a door. He hadn't realized that he had walked straight to the dressing rooms until he saw that small sign but, nevertheless, why waste an extra trip? Gripping the handles to his sports bag, he opened the door and stalked inside. He hardly paid attention to it as he threw down the bag on a bench. From his experience, if you saw one dressing room, you saw them all.
This was no different from the rest, except for maybe the color, which was a lighter shade of brown. The wood was dark and smooth and he doubted that, should one look under a bench or somewhere inside the cubby cabinets, previous people who have been in this particular dressing room would be found. It was usually a tradition to inscribe your name in the places where you have been. In fact, the only difference of this room was that he wasn't alone.
He hadn't noticed her at first; his mind was focused on how he would deal with Angle when he came face-to-face with him. He had even walked out of the door before he realized he had seen someone who had obviously no need to be in his dressing room... He frowned when he walked back in, observing her. She was struggling to put up a strobe. (They are the huge flashes on a rod. Remember school pictures and the two tall thingys with umbrellas on them? ::nods:: Those are strobes! ^_^) 'Strobe...?' he thought. Strobes were used for photo shoots! What in the hell was she doing setting up strobes in his dressing room, especially without his permission first? He frowned deeper as he walked over to her.
"What-" he was cut off by her squeaking in surprise and a crash when the strobe. He jumped back to keep from being knocked over by the strobe she was putting up. When the falling noise had echoed away, the woman stood up, brushing her pants off, glaring at the mess. Obviously pissed, she spun around on her heel towards him.
"Just look what- oh!" Her eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush covered her cheeks. Like the majority of all women, she wore makeup; just not nearly as much as most sluts wore. She was wearing tight black pants, probably fake leather, that hugged around her legs, showing them off as if she didn't wear any at all. Her red shirt was also tight and was short, ending about four inches above her belly button. He was slightly surprised that it wasn't pierced. That was the trendy thing to do nowadays, wasn't it? However her right ear had a cartilage pierce, so it showed that she wasn't completely trendyless. She held herself in a manner that practically screamed 'I'm beautiful and I know it.' "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were the new assistant guy."
He gave her a blank stare. Assistant guy...? How could anyone mistake him from an 'assistant guy?' Everyone knew who he was! Even people who had never watched the WWF knew who he was, how could this girl be any different? He had expected her to sputter something out when she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing, but never would he expect her to say 'assistant guy...' Or maybe she was just playing a game? A game where she would act all innocent and cute and when he 'revealed' who he was, she would widen her eyes in utter surprise and giggle, saying that she had no idea! Just how a chick would do... Well, he could play games too.
She would have noticed his confused look had she not turned around, up righting the fallen strobe. "Could you please take this," here she handed him what appeared to be a cord, but in the world of photography one could never be too sure, "and plug it into the power source? And then take the sync cord plug it into the camera?" He took it from her without saying anything, looking around for something called a 'power source.' Using common sense, he walked over to a rectangular-shaped box with various cords hanging from it. He frowned as he looked from the cord he held and to the outlets. Shrugging, he plugged it into a random one before looking around for they sync cord, something he had absolutely no idea what it was.
Figuring that he was just like the last assistant, she sighed deeply and turned around to face him after finally fixing the strobe. She wasn't very tall, maybe five-foot, four, or five at the very most. She had long wavy brown hair with red highlights, an unusual natural hair color she had inherited from her grandmother. She had also inherited her deep blue eyes, something that she had hated all of her life. Who had brown hair and blue eyes? A lot of people, but not her shade of blue or deepness of brown. When she turned to him, she giggled behind her hand. He had somehow managed to strangle his hand in the various cords.
He had no idea he had done such a foolish thing. One minute he had been reaching for a cord, the next it seemed as if his hand was magnetic to each one. Anyhow, he had been able to get his hand intertwined his hand with them. He looked up at her when he heard a sound that sent shivers of...something up and down his spine. What that something was, he didn't know.
Grinning, she sat on her knees next to the power source where his hand lay helplessly. "Well, it's no wonder why you couldn't do it. It doesn't help to have big hands. They must be terribly klutzy, I should think. No offense or anything." She grinned again at him as she began working on the cords. He watched her as she did so, not saying anything like before. There was something about her that struck a cord-he smirked at the pun-within him. Either she really did not know who he was, or she was a really good actress. He was willing to bet the latter as she finished. "There. Better?" She smiled when he nodded his thanks and stood up.
"My name is Jessie, by the way. I doubt that Fred said as much, but I'm sure you know how hectic it gets down there." She began connecting the evil cords to what appeared, to him, to be some sort of large batteries. "I don't suppose that they told you why we're here either?" She looked over her shoulder and he shook his head. She smirked lightly, and in a joking manner, said "You should win the next 'most talkative' award. Anyway," she turned back to her work, "it doesn't surprise me. Mike didn't even know, and he's my partner." She sighed and shook her head. "We have to take pictures of each room that each wrestler stays in from here to the next five months. Then Fred and his men have to chose one room each wrestler from each stadium for some project the WWF wants." Each time she said a word relating to wrestling, it sounded like she was spitting it out.
He cleared his throat, looking at her oddly. "You don't like wrestling?" She snorted.
"Was that obvious? I hate it. I hate everything and everyone that has to do with it, regardless if it's a promoter, writer, or wrestler themselves."
He frowned. "Then why are you here?"
"I love photography. There aren't that many companies out there and sometimes you just have to take what comes your way." He could definitely relate with that. "The only plus about this job is that my baby brother works here now, and I hardly get to see him anymore because of this damn company. But don't get me wrong. I love my brother and I'd do anything for him, and respect his dreams. His dream was to always be a wrestler and who am I to say no to that dream?"
He frowned at her, quite puzzled over what she had said. One minute she claimed to hate everything and every*one* in this company, and the next she claimed to love her brother. Also, he had never heard of anyone who had a sister with her description. She was obviously keeping things out. "Really..." he said doubtfully. "And just who is your brother?"
She finished putting her camera together, which reminded him of an antique. "I doubt you know him," she responded with a wave of her hand. At that dismissal, he knew she was lying. She tried to brush it off as if it was nothing of importance. "Unless you are up on dark matches, that is. He's known as "The Black Avenger." She smiled sadly as the reason for the name popped into her head for what seemed to be at least the hundredth time in the past week. Her eyes softened at the memory of her father came with it, but she shook her head, clearing her mind.
He quickly tried to think of anything related to what she had just told him, but nothing rung a bell. Most likely she was lying, so he shrugged it off. He had stayed to 'play a game,' except this game was hitting a dead end, if it had started at all. He was beginning to get bored of it and all this crap she was telling. Normally he would be 'talking' to her, catching her in her lies, but something held him back. For the second time that day, he didn't know what that something was, but he didn't worry about it. He had more important things to deal with anyway, so he decided to stop wasting his time.
However she had different ideas. Taking his standing for another reason, she disconnected the sync cord from her camera to the strobe and handed it to him, expecting him to do something with it. "Alright. This one's done..." With that she began to take down the strobes. He frowned. She smirked. "If you keep up with that, you're going to get wrinkles."
"You did all that work, only to take them down after a few lousy shots?" He would have helped her, but he thought better of it.
"Yep. And put them in there," she pointed to a box he had not noticed before, "so I can carry them room to room. It's called a 'carry case.'" If he had known better, he would have thought she was mocking him. "And it'd go a lot quicker and easier if you helped me. He mentally winced as if he had gotten slapped in his head. He didn't know why he felt so guilty, but it was there nonetheless. Walking towards her back, he was about to reach for the second strobe when the door burst open. They both turned to see a tall man with shoulder length bleached hair. He was definitely the stereotyped surfer. He had an earring in his left ear and had his hair back in a loose ponytail. He was wearing loose pants that fell below his boxers and a tight, white muscle shirt. He was chomping on his gum and listening to some heavy-metal band that blared through his headphones. "'Ey, Jessie! Sorry I'm, like, so late!" he screamed over his music. She smiled and shook her head at his childish was and turned off his CD player. "Ah, Jess!" he pouted. "Come on..."
"Not here." She turned toward her new assistant and pointed to a now speechless teenager. "This guy here is Mike, my partner. He's, well, very energetic as you can see, but he's a great kid, and extremely bright. He's one of those child geniuses that have those sad flaws to them; unfortunately his flaw is being the common surfer." She grinned at him, clearly a very close friend. "Mike, this is-eh..." her hand stopped midway up as she realized she had made a mistake. She laughed at her foolishness. "I'm sorry! I completely forgot to ask for your name."
He smirked at her, now read to see her game's reaction. He opened his mouth to talk, but Mike had already put two-and-two together. "Jessie! Can't ya see that he's The Rock!" He grinned and jumped over to him. "I knew that this was a great job, Jess!" Surprisingly, his grin grew. "Can I, like, shake your hand, man?" Rock smirked again and offered his hand. He continued to watch her reaction through her various changes. At first it was complete and utter surprise. Sure she knew that he wasn't the assistant that she had asked for-it didn't take a fool to notice he didn't know a single thing about photography-but he had a certain, childish charm to him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe it was because of the hand incident, as that really was the only thing that he had done in the short time they were together, but never had she imagined that he was one of *them* Then came fury. She clenched her jaw and balled her hands into tight fists and glared at him, flushing deeply. She threw her equipment into random boxes and shoved them into Mike's hands before pushing him out the door.
"It's the next one to the right. I'll meet you there," she griped.
"It was totally cool meetin' ya, dude!" Mike grinned and walked out. It was obvious that he was still excited when he was halfway there as an echoed "Sweet!" was elongated throughout the hall.
She picked up the remaining boxes and glared at him. She had felt humiliated and embarrassed. "I hop you rot tonight."
"Don't get so upset at The Rock," he smirked. "He never deceived you into believing he was your-"
"I don't care about that!" she glared as she looked over her shoulder. "A child could have seen that you don't know how to do anything right when it comes to photo."
He narrowed his eyes at he. "Then why are you pissed at-"
"Be careful with that box over there." She nodded towards a small shoebox under a bench. She left after talking, leaving a bewildered Rock behind as her last words echoed behind. "It has a bomb."
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Author's Notes: When I was typing this, I realized how boring it seemed... I tried to jazz it up with the deleting and adding of certain sentences, but it was still kind of blah: empty. Hopefully the next chapters won't be as bad. ^_^;;