Notice: Hunter was not injured in this version of the WWE, he was simply taking care of the kids and the office side of WWE. Also wrestlers in this story will go by their WWE names except for a certain few, in which case a notice will be posted at the top of the chapter. I'm going to say it right now. Dean Ambrose never went by the ring name Jon Moxley in this story, he always was and will be Dean Ambrose.

The thought of being a wrestler had never crossed my mind once. I just wanted to make that clear. I thought beating someone up into front of a crowd of ten thousand people didn't sound like a whole lot a fun. It looked crude but then again; having someone hurt your only family will change many of your opinions.

I hated watching him in pain. Being able to see the cracks in his otherwise perfect façade, even though to everyone else he looked fine;it was horrifying. Not being there to mend them...that was worse. I watched as the cracks widened and started to swallow him whole. It screamed against everything that was his sister, to stay on my living room floor studying for my next exam. When I first heard Shane's offer, my first thought was that he was just as cruel as his sister. I must have shown on my face too; because he quickly reassured me that this was one-hundred percent real.

Well...who could resist that offer?


Monday Night Raw- July 25, Pittsburgh

The arena almost burst with high strung energy as stage-hands bustled around; each with their own individual task. The lights beat down on the ring and a harsh glare covered the floor area. A dark figure examined the hive of worker bees from where they sat nestled in the dark upper levels of the arena. Her mahogany hair was tied back out of her face as Quinn watched the WWE employees work.

Many worked on setting up the white square that was the ring. Some skillfully locked ropes in their places while others added steel stairs at the corners, and other toys underneath the ring.

Quinn's eyes narrowed as Stephanie walked down the ramp towards ring. Stephanie felt chills erupt down her spine as she talked with the setup-manager. She carefully tooled her expression and continued. When all was done, Stephanie turned around to find whoever who had been starring at her but found only empty seats. She scanned the immediate areas before looking towards the upper levels. The seats were abandoned but the chill never left her.

Quinn slipped into the deeper shadows just as she felt Stephanie's eyes move over where she had been not moments before. A smirk settled on Quinn's lips as she walked to the backstage part of the arena. She felt a few stage-hands glance at her but they quickly averted their gaze when they saw not only her pass but the deadly smile plastered on her face.

Quinn readjusted the duffle-bag slung on her shoulder as she approached the Women's locker room. She grasped the handle tightly before firmly opening the door. Various squacks sounded off as she did so.

"Relax Ladies! No need to sound the boy with cooties alarm." She drawled softly before letting out a small chuckle.

Women is varying stages of dress greeted her with varying degrees of anger. Quinn set her duffle down on a empty bench and promptly started stripping down.

"Who are you?" asked Nia Jax, who stood leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She was dressed in her ring gear already and thus had not been startled when the door opened. She stared at Quinn darkly but Quinn was unfazed, she had grown up with worse looks.

"I, my dear Kharma, am Quinn Moxley, the newest women's wrestler brought up to RAW." Quinn said, tugging on her ring jeans. She buttoned them and turned to face a scowling Jax.

"I am Nia Jax, I am not that washed out old woman who ran away from the wrestling industry." Quinn made a face of mock horror before slipping into a condescending smile.

"Are you sure about that sweet heart; because, from where I stand, you look like a Kharma 2.0 wrapped up in vinyl fabric and lot more make up."

Nia scowled as she unfolded her arms and stood in front of her. She sneered down at her as she spoke, "You don't know what you're messing with Moxley; stay out of my way or I'll make sure you..."

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Wh..why you little..."

"What?"

"You think you can..."

"What?"

"DON'T MOCK ME!"

Quinn stopped and put a hand to her chest; "I'm sorry sometimes I just can't help myself. By the way you didn't have to yell because now you hurt my feelings." She pucked out her lip in a pout as she ended and completely the look with downcast eyes.

"GRRHHH!" Nia stormed out of the locker room leaving Quinn to glance up at the other divas with the slightest smirk touching the corner of her lips.

Quinn flashed them a quick smile before turning around and strapping on her modified leather corset over her tank top before she reached into her bag. She fingered the hand wrap gently before putting it back and grabbing her gloves. She put them on and carefully arranged the straps lacing across each other over her arms. When finished with that she pulled out her knee-high combat boots and strapped them on with as much care as she had the rest of her ring gear.

Quinn slung her jacket over her shoulder and left the locker room, a "see you around ladies" echoing in the air. The other women looked after her in awe and indignation.

Quinn walked leisurely down the hallway towards catering, taking in every detail she could about the people around her. She stopped just short of the doorway and took in the amount of people in the room. Too many. She let out a small growl before continuing down the hallway. She reached out a hand and snagged an apple from a cart as it passed by, a suitable snack. Quinn felt annoyance at her surroundings start to war with the anticipation she could feel building in her limbs.

"AHHHHHH" CRASH!

Quinn's head snapped in the direction of the scream and saw the downed form of Britt Baker, one of the local competitors in Pittsburgh. Britt had collapsed at the end of the hall, clutching her knee to her chest and trying to crawl away from someone who had hidden themselves perfectly from Quinn's view behind a pile of equipment. Quinn stepped quietly closer and managed to see the refs pushing the person away from Britt, but further down the dark end of the hall, before she could she her face. Quinn already knew who it was. Her brown eyes lit up with swirling amber as she felt rage crawl its way up her neck and shoulders.

She walked closer to the carnage and watched as the refs tried to help Britt walk however the one helping her was shorter was a couple of inches. He couldn't properly support her.

"Imbecils"

Quinn pushed the ref away and slid her arm under the other's shoulders. Britt glanced at her warily but kept silent otherwise. Quinn slowly helped Britt walk to trainers room and stood to the side so they could get a look at her knee. She watched warily as Triple H and Stephanie entered the room but plastered a concerned/ angry look on her face. It wasn't that hard; she was pissed however she knew the injury Britt suffered wasn't that bad, she just wouldn't be able to wrestle tonight.

"Great. We don't have a second women's division match now Hunter, and you just know Shane's going to rub it in our faces." Stephanie glanced around the room before her eyes settled of Quinn. A slight smirk traced the corner of her lips before it vanished and she walked over to Quinn.

"Ms. Moxley it looks like this incident has you riled up."

"Jax had no reason to go after Baker; she knew Baker would have no chance against her yet she hurt her anyway. It's wrong." Quinn said as her eyes traced the bandage now around Britt's knee.

"Perhaps you would like to right that wrong...tonight perhaps."

Quinn turned to face Stephanie and gave Stephanie a predatory smirk which made a shiver trace her spine.

"I would be my pleasure to Mrs. McMahon."

Thanks for reading. Please rate and review. I would love to hear your comments about how Quinn's mystery is developing. I swear it will get more interesting next chapter...well, it will in my opinion. Anyway, thanks and I hope to see you here again! Phoenix Trails.