So, this has been proven a lot harder to write than I originally anticipated. I like the idea behind it, now if I could just get momentum!
Shout out to the people who have gotten behind this story, I appreciate your reviews greatly and like to hear suggestions on how to make it better!
I write a lot in kayfabe for this story. I take real ideas and make them better. On a side note, this involves the idea of "Wrestler's Court." This is a REAL thing that has plenty of accounts. I suggest Whatculture's tales on YouTube if you have any questions. Very intriguing idea, but not surprising it's actually implemented. I chose to use this idea as a tool in my story since I've been watching a ton of documentaries on the WWE.
Also, if you've not read Daniel Bryan's book, YES! I suggest you do so. I teared up many times, and the guy is just damn remarkable. He doesn't really seem to see it in himself, but he's the kind of person that inspires others to be a better version of themselves. Just, wow.
There were photos everywhere on the internet the next day.
Everywhere.
From the previous night, somehow every social media outlet and journalist alike had managed to snap a photo of Paige and Del Rio, a concerned look on Paige's super-high face as her "man" was being taken to the hospital.
While she knew what had actually happened, she had so far remained lucky that the WWE didn't. There was plenty of speculation, though, and the WWE had already issued a statement proclaiming that they would "get to the bottom of things."
Paige knew, with a heavy heart, that once Berto was approached by management, he would sadly give in; after all, he was normally promised all kinds of things by them. One heavy push, and he'd reveal that Paige had been so fucked up that night that, in fact, she was the one to knock him.
This meant that WWE would find themselves in a very sticky situation. In the PG era, any men and women violence was kept quite separate, despite the fact that they'd been meshing the two genders for years. In fact, Chyna (Joanie Laurer) had been one of the most bad-ass women in the company whilst she watched as a young girl, running alongside D-Generation X and Chris Jericho alike, not showing any weakness because she had tits.
But nowadays, things wouldn't be so; and either Paige would get in wild trouble for not being able to keep her hands to herself, or Berto would get in serious trouble simply because he was male. It was almost incomprehensible that he'd allow for a small woman to leave a mark on him, and the management would wonder what he'd done to Paige to make her lash out in such a way.
Now, Paige was a total mess as it was. her relationship was in a bad situation with Berto, and her position in the company she'd strived her entire life to be in was slipping quickly. It was a matter of time before her bad behavior would make it impossible to regain any form of women's championship belt. And, the more trouble she'd found herself in as of late, the more probable it seemed.
It was mere moments later that Paige had been suddenly rattled from her deep funk she'd been in since waking that morning by some thumping and yelling in the hallway, something that wasn't uncommon during traveling but still annoying. Giving a good, solid stretch, she peeked at herself in the small mirror provided by the rooms even smaller dresser, deciding that the slept-in makeup gave a decent raccoon-like look around her eyes. She was presentable enough.
She opened her hotel room door, seeing some of her male colleagues stamping down the halls. A few other divas had also peeked their heads out the doors, intrigued by the commotion. She gave a questioning look towards Becky Lynch just a few doors down, and she only shrugged, concern peaking her brows.
Kane made his way down the hallway, his scarily large stature moving slowly. Even though he was one of the nicest guys on the roster, he was still very intimidating. He really was a large guy, and he'd done so much in his career that if anyone were to talk to him, unless it'd be of a Cena-like status, would feel very much inferior to the Demon.
Paige, however, was never scared of anyone, even though she ought to be.
"Yo, Kane, what's with the stampede? It interrupted my beauty sleep."
Kane turned, a mean look on his face. Once he saw that it was she who had spoken up, his face softened up a bit.
"Don't worry, Paige. It's nothing to do with you."
"You sure? I just read all kinds of misdeeds on TMZ about myself," she admitted sheepishly. "Not too proud to be winding up on their website again."
Kane gave a quick laugh. "TMZ is lame shit. There's a much bigger thing going on. Wrestler's court."
Paige gave a look of awe. She'd heard of this before, actually. It was a very, very old tradition; in fact, she wasn't sure the mystery was a solid truth anymore. Back in the day, Vince McMahon had given certain veteran wrestlers (i.e., Hunter and Taker) the right to punish other performers if they behaved in embarrassing ways. Sometimes, the person on trial would be able to "buy" the judge, and the case would be dismissed. Once, it was rumored, Edge and Christian had bought the judge, Taker, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a book about motorcycles, just so they could continue to use the shared locker room. Others, like the Miz, weren't so fortunate; he'd gotten cookie crumbs on a veteran wrestler's bags, and was forced to change in a bathroom stall.
Things had changed widely since then. The idea of "court" was constructed mostly so Vince didn't have to involve himself in silly backstage drama, as he was a busy guy with more things to worry about that cookie crumbs. But these days, it was unheard of. Talents of the past had told horror stories, and as a result, things were handled much more carefully so as not to put Vince McMahon in the hotseat.
"Seriously? I've never been involved. Only heard of it. Need a jury member?" she asked, hopeful. Kane just laughed. "No can do. This one's a pretty cut and dry case. Not too much to decide on; just a punishment."
"Who's in trouble, if it's not me?"
Kane looked uneasy.
"It's not Berto, is it?" her heart sank. She had a bad feeling that he'd get blamed for some domestic abuse bullshit; the WWE had a zero-tolerance policy, after all; and again, it wasn't exactly believable that Paige had smashed him with her fist even though he'd done nothing to deserve it.
"No, no. One of our top-stars failed a drug test."
Paige could've sworn the air she was breathing went stale, a sharp inhale caught in her throat. If drug tests were being administered randomly, she was possibly and probably fucked.
"Dare I ask?" she managed to remain cool, forcing herself not to break into the sweat that was already beginning to form on her brow...
"Roman," Kane said quickly, as if he hadn't said the name at all. "It's unfortunate, really; the spiral he's been getting into. Don't know what's gotten into the guy."
"That's the last person I'd have thought," Paige responded, her vision beginning to whirl. Roman was going to talk, and she knew it; in a matter of time, they would both be completely thrown into the trash bin.
"You and me both," Kane responded, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a tough business. Reigns should just thank his lucky stars that 'Taker's not here to run the show anymore. The sentence would be a lot more harsh if he still controlled the locker room. Luckily, he's got to face his former brothers. I'm just there to keep order..." he shook his head, realizing he'd said too much. "You have a good rest of your day, Paige."
Roman Reigns sat in the makeshift "courtroom" while Seth Rollins, the worm that he was, and Dean Ambrose spoke nonchalantly about the punishment their former partner should endure. Though he couldn't hear much, he was humiliated; as if things weren't shitty enough for him already. But this took the fucking cake. He'd heard rumors of backstage politics like this, but wasn't wrestler's court well past its prime? Hadn't it burned in hell with Undertaker, the hundred times he'd been sent there? This was lame as hell.
"I think we ought to make him publicly apologize," Ambrose murmured. "I know he's going through a lot with the separation, and I don't necessarily think he should get too much past the suspension."
"I don't know, man," Seth muttered under his breath. "I don't think we ought to go light on him at all. Roman is supposed to be a model for kids. As a lunatic, I know you don't know much about the values and morale it takes to be in his position-"
"And you do?" Dean cut his old friend off quickly. "Need I remind you that the whole world saw what you were packing in your tights?" Ambrose referred to the leaked photos from Seth's ex-fiancee, an unfortunate event a few years ago that had cost him dearly; both in fines and humiliation. "At least we didn't all see Roman's huge, Samoan-"
"Knock it off," Seth hissed. "This is serious. I don't care about whatever's going on in his personal life. Roman's supposed to be a top guy, and if I'd learned anything from my own misadventures, it's that you can't be taken seriously when you're busy doing juvenile shit. Nude pictures? immature and lame as fuck. Smoking some weed? Super lame. I say we give him a chance to reveal who he was with the night that the rookie narc saw him taking hits. If he does, I bet I can get his sentence knocked down to a two-week suspension, courtesy of my own ties."
Dean scoffed. "Ro's not gonna reveal who he was with," he replied, his eyes rolling heavily. It was a gesture he'd picked up from his girlfriend, Renee, and while he knew it was highly annoying, it was something he just couldn't stop doing.
"He might if he knows he's in jeopardy of losing a top position," Seth pointed out. "If it were me in the same position, I'd rack my brain really hard for some answers...and accusations, just to save my own ass."
"You would," Dean said, not hiding the saltiness bite to his words. It was clear that, even to this day, there was still some evident bad blood between the two men. Seth had thought he'd persevere much more without his Shield brethren, but it was Dean who had it all going for him. Dean had the fanbase. Dean had the girl. Dean had it all. And Seth? Seth hated it.
"What exactly do you suggest, then?"
"Well, if he doesn't spill, I've got a different gimmick for him to take on. He'll have plenty of time to do it during his suspension, anyways."
"Yeah? What's that? Make Dean Ambrose look like a real champ?"
Dean chuckled. "Not quite. I think Roman ought to start babysitting."
"I wasn't with anyone," Roman muttered, looking away from the prosecutor. Unfortunately, it was his former faction member, Seth Rollins, and he was finding it really hard to lie to the man he used to call a friend. Before things changed. Before the company changed.
"You know, if you can just give me a hint, we can get this whole thing taken care of," Rollins said, his snake-like eyes watching the larger man. "I know you're lying, Reigns. I really think you ought to just come clean."
"Nothing to say," he replied simply. "Sometimes I have a hard time sleeping. I've got a lot going on, and I talk to myself. How would anyone know whether or not I was alone? It was dark, and I like it that way."
Dean snorted in response, not buying this facade for a second.
"Have it your way, then," Seth Rollins interjected. He looked at his ally, Kane, who was presiding over this entire debacle.
"You will go forth with your mandatory 30-day suspension for violating the wellness policy. This information will be publicized, so don't try to deny any reports of the allegations. You will also be required to prepare a speech for the entire locker room, apologizing for your misconduct," Kane said simply, ready to get on with his day.
"And?" Dean Ambrose prodded the demon, a smirk on his face. "The best part?"
Kane sighed. "As you know, there's been a lot of speculation regarding former WWE divas champion, Paige. Given her own family ties, the company doesn't want to send her down to NXT or anything...but she has been granted time off. She just doesn't know this yet. She needs to get her mind sorted-"
"Great," Roman interjected, annoyed. Had they found out that Paige was guilty of violating the wellness policy, too? He thought to Del Rio, an angry flash rising from his stomach. Had the little twerp really mentioned that Roman had shown up at his hotel room, ready to fight?
"Remind me why I should care?" Roman was now totally pissed, and now even considered that Paige was the one who had ratted on his smoking habit just to save herself from the same fate.
Dean gave his friend a cold stare. "Listen, Roman. Paige is in serious trouble right now, too. If she doesn't get her head sorted out, she's going to lose her job. And as her friend, I want to keep her out of trouble. I know you're going to keep your head on straight from here on out, and I'd like for her to do the same."
"Why do you care?" Roman asked, but he knew the answer. Seth shook his head in annoyance. Everyone cared. Sadly, Paige had been a completely different person as of late; her own demons finally catching up with her. In a way, her colleagues from NXT were forever protecting of her; Ambrose being a big brother away from her own back in England. They'd all seen her rise, and they'd all seen her fall. While Seth hadn't been nearly as close to Paige as Ambrose had been, he still felt for her, knowing full-well of her past situation...
Kane bristled at Roman-even he had a soft spot for the raven-haired beauty.
"Maybe you two could learn a few things about each other," Rollins joked. He'd made it clear that Dean's idea was asinine; but little did he know that after the past few nights, Ambrose had witnessed some serious issues within Paige's decision-making skills.
"The last thing I need is to be watching a grown-ass woman," Roman muttered.
"If you don't, the last thing you'll be doing is sitting here," Kane remarked, his eyes angry. "It is our understanding that Paige is unable to return home to her family, and continues to travel with us. She needs a break...and we all know that you've got a swanky bachelor pad while the details between you and Galina get hammered out," he said, a little more snarky than Roman would've liked.
"Who told you that?" Roman demanded. He hadn't spoken a world to anyone about Galina's interest in divorce.
"Renee," Dean responded matter-of-factly. It took him a second, but Roman realized he was talking about Paige's inability to travel to her parent's home across the ocean. His eyes held Dean's for a second, wondering if his friend had taken a few too many bumps to his head. He didn't say another word, though; and he'd hoped that for now his eventual divorce would remain tight-lipped.
"If you agree to do this," Dean continued, "You won't lose your position, Ro. We all know you've scratched and clawed to get to the top. You're up at the top of the mountain where you deserve to be. Don't turn this offer down."
Roman didn't say anything.
"You still have a title shot," Seth said quietly. "As long as you compete thirty days sober, and thirty days of babysitting."
"And if Galina catches wind of me sharing my home with another female, I can surely kiss my relationship with her goodbye," Roman replied. "Is that worth a title opportunity?"
"Oh, Roman," Kane gave a large, freakish smile, a knowing look on his face. "Galina is the least of your worries, and I think you know that."
Roman's heart raced. Some way, somehow, the director or operations knew.
"Fine," Roman agreed half-heartedly. It wasn't even that he disliked Paige; clearly. But she had bad news written all over her, and Roman could see the danger within her the last time he spoke to her, back at the hotel. He regretted ever speaking to her at all. He regretted not telling the guys that she had been the person he'd been smoking weed with. He regretted having ever speaking to her at all, ever.
And now, he was going to have to put up with her for a goddamn month.
Paige was certain she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming.
"So that's the plan," Stephanie McMahon sat across from her, her hands folding on the solid, dark wood of her desk. She tried to give a genuine smile, but Paige thought she could see right through the boss. Paige knew better than to trust a McMahon, so she raised an eyebrow at her superior, hoping she'd expand a little bit on the details.
"Roman agreed to lend me his home to take time off?" she asked coolly, trying to keep her tone even.
"Um...well..yes," Stephanie replied, her icy eyes watching, calculating. "Look, Paige..."
"I don't need to hear it," Paige retorted quickly, knowing that Steph was just about to offer her some motherly advice and possibly even mesh in her on sorry-ass sob story.
Stephanie's lips formed a thin line, as though she was unsure how to handle the situation at hand. "I know things are hard for you. I get it. But we can't have the bad press right now...it's only hurting us more than we can handle."
"Is that so?" Paige replied angrily, trying hard as hell to control her temper. "You didn't care about bad press when CM Punk left!"
"Phil Brooks is a non-issue, Paige. He doesn't work here anymore, and frankly, I don't mind it. You, however, do. And so does Roman. It was a fantastic idea formed by an unlikely contributor, this buddy-program thing. I can't say I wasn't initially unsure, but I think you both with do well. Roman needs to keep himself busy with understanding how important it is to maintain a good influence, and you need a good influence badly." Stephanie remained calm, and Paige was currently fantasizing how great it'd feel to throw her into a DDT right on this expensive fucking desk. "It's perfect, really," Stephanie continued, as if trying to convince herself. "Besides, this gives us time to do more digging on the entire report regarding your ex-boyfriend and yourself. If you go through with this without any more complaint, Paige, this whole thing can be dismissed. Whatever happened between you and Del Rio will be scrubbed clean. Whatever happened, surely, he deserved it," she stated, knowing full-well what probably everyone else was too scared to say: Paige was to blame for the ugly mark on his face.
Paige winced unwillingly, and Stephanie hadn't been blind to it. "That's what I thought. This little investigation will be wrapped up. Just please, Paige, agree to take some time off. Roman is suspended for thirty days, and my team will write you into an injury angle. Keep each other out of trouble."
"I fucking hate it," Paige replied. "But I can't embarrass my family by losing the one thing I love," she sighed. "Fine, sign me up. But if that neanderthal clubs me and takes me back to his cave, I'm coming for you," Paige threatened, though she immediately wished she hadn't as Steph's eyes shot open, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"I was...kidding," Paige lied.
"I thought so. Now, tomorrow you have a match against Becky Lynch, and I think it's about time that Charlotte and Dana Brooke attack and..." the rest was all background noise.
Come Wednesday, Paige was going to be off TV, and Roman was going to be watching her every move. While the last few encounters with the guy had been fun and full of paraphernalia, she already knew that Reigns would be taking this sentence seriously. That meant she was going to be kept prisoner in his home.
This was gonna suck.
