1/13/03 - Uncasville, CT

Happiness, anxiety, excitement, fear. All of these were just a few words to describe the emotions running through the mind of the man who was going to take the WWE by storm, James Christian Hudson or as he was known in the ring, Chris Hawthorne. His anxiety had been going through the freaking roof when he received the call from Vince McMahon himself, calling him to come join the WWE after spending months and months, honing his craft down in OVW with the likes of John Cena, Randy Orton, Brock Lesnar and Batista. All those men had their chance to debut on the main roster and some were doing pretty well fromselves and supposedly had opportunities lined-up for themselves and now Chris Hawthorne was about to get his chance.

His journey to this moment had been a journey full of ups and downs. His career started March 5th, 1997 when he was just 18 years old in a little company in Vancouver known as ECCW, Elite Canadian Championship Wrestling. In ECCW, he would start his career off on a roll picking up several victories and taking several losses. This would earn the attention of one of the biggest wrestling promotions in the US in ECW, Extreme Championship Wrestling.

And while he was a technical based wrestler or as he liked to call it, a thinking man's wrestler, he did surprisingly well in ECW. While he didn't win any championships or have any major storylines, he was able to stay employed with the company from November 1997 to September 1999 as he was cut due to budget cuts. But as his father John Hudson taught him, one man's loss is another man's treasure as he was soon picked up by WCW, World Championship Wrestling in September of 1999. And while WCW wasn't as big as it used to be it was still a pretty big deal. And in WCW, he proved to be a star in the company's midcard winning the WCW United States Championship twice.

And he would stay on in WCW until January of 2001 when he left the company and would eventually find his way to the (then) WWF, World Wrestling Federation in May 2001. And he would be sent straight to their developmental brand, OVW, Ohio Valley Wrestling. In OVW, he would prove to have the advantage over a lot of talent as he was one of the more experienced members of that roster. Oftentimes during this period, he would see himself wrestling on either Heat, Jakked or Metal.

All of that. All of that traveling up and down the road. Traveling back and forth between the US and Canada was worth it as it led him to this exact moment. The moment in which he would be debuting on the WWE's Flagship Program, Monday Night Raw.

The young Canadian grappler pulled up to the staff parking lot on the back entrance of the Mohegan Sun Arena in an old silver 1995 Toyota Camry. The time was currently 3:42 PM in the afternoon.

As the young 6 foot 3 Canadian grappler stepped out of the vehicle, a rush of emotions overwhelmed him. The cold winter wind whipped through the air, causing a slight shiver to run down his spine. But despite the chill, a sense of happiness and excitement coursed through his veins, knowing that this was the day he had been working tirelessly toward.

The Mohegan Sun Arena stood before him, an massive structure that would soon house countless memories for wrestling fans around the world. It was here, on the grand stage of Monday Night Raw, that he would make due on his shot in the WWE. The significance of the moment wasn't lost on him, causing his heart to beat faster with anticipation.

The weight of the opportunity bestowed upon him by Vince McMahon himself was immense. He couldn't help but let doubts start to creep into his thoughts making him question if he was truly ready for this next step of his career.

As he walked towards the back entrance of the arena, memories of his entire wrestling journey flashed through his mind. From his early days in ECCW, where he honed his skills and learned the ropes of the industry, to his time in ECW and WCW where he proved his worth as a performer. The path had been filled with ups and downs, victories and setbacks, but each experience shaped him into the wrestler he was today.

His time in OVW, the developmental brand of the WWF then, now WWE had been crucial in his development. The countless matches on Heat, Jacket and Metal had provided him with invaluable experience and exposure to the true nature of the WWE brand. It was testament to his dedication and perseverance, traveling back and forth between the US and Canada, sacrificing comfort for the opportunity to improve his craft.

Now, as he stood outside the Mohegan Sun arena, he felt a mix of gratitude, determination and a small touch of fear. The moment he had dreamed of for years had finally arrived. Stepping into the WWE ring, he knew he had to prove himself and start at the bottom of the totem pole again. The pressure to deliver captivating performance and live up to the expectations weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, James embraced the cold wind, allowing it to invigorate his senses. He remind himself of his abilities, his extensive experience and the passion that burned deep within him. The nerves that had threatened to consume him were quickly replaced by a renewed sense of confidence. He knew he had worked hard for this opportunity and he was ready to seize it with everything in his being.

With a determined stride, James walked to the back entrance of the Arena, leaving behind the uncertain and diving off the deep end to embrace the unknown. The journey led him to this moment, and he was prepared to make his mark, ready to take the WWE by storm.

A few minutes had passed since James first arrived at the bustling arena, the anticipation in the air palpable. Eager to immerse himself in the atmosphere, he strode purposefully through the vast expanse of the venue, navigating the rows of seats to gain a comprehensive understanding of the view from each section. Whether it was the adrenaline-pumping proximity of ringside or the distant yet panoramic vantage point of the nosebleeds, James wanted to grasp the perspective of every fan.

Prior to this exploration, he had made a point to pay his respects in the locker room, ensuring he upheld the unwritten rules of the industry. James knew that his trainer, the esteemed "Iron" Jack Donovan, would have had his head served on a silver platter had he neglected this crucial ritual. Jack had taught him invaluable lessons, not only about in-ring techniques but also about the conduct and etiquette expected within the wrestling world.

One of those unwritten rules was the obligation to shake hands with every individual in the locker room upon arrival, regardless of personal conflicts or friendships. It was a sign of respect and camaraderie that transcended any differences. These unspoken guidelines were numerous, encompassing various aspects of the industry. James had internalized them over time: the requirement to maintain boots with a touch of character, the prohibition against traveling with a "heel" if one portrayed a "face" character, the tactful avoidance of asking a veteran wrestler for feedback on a match, the commitment to stay for the entire show regardless of one's position on the card, the understanding that two botches could jeopardize one's standing, the importance of addressing each other by ring names, the expectation to dress well whenever possible, and the mandate to never "mark out" as a fan.

These unwritten rules were the fabric that held every locker room together, and James had imbibed them with utmost dedication. Working alongside Jack had instilled in him a profound sense of commitment to the business. He made it a point to arrive at least an hour and a half ahead of schedule, eager to prepare diligently. His routine consisted of walking through the arena, surveying the ring from every angle and section, and then undertaking 10 to 15 laps in the ring itself, honing his skills and familiarizing himself with the canvas and the ropes.

As James continued his customary rounds, he heard a familiar voice that made him turn around—Eric Bischoff. The legendary figure stood there, donning a simple black shirt, a black leather jacket, and blue jeans. James felt a surge of excitement mixed with gratitude as he approached the former Head of WCW and the current on-screen General Manager of Monday Night Raw.

"Mr. Bischoff, it's a pleasure to meet you. Although we never had the chance to cross paths in WCW, I'm genuinely grateful for the opportunity you bestowed upon me," James expressed, extending his hand in greeting to the seasoned veteran.

Eric reciprocated the handshake warmly, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Likewise, I've been following your career closely, both in WCW and OVW. You're an exceptionally talented young performer, and I'm thrilled to have you here."

James beamed with gratitude, his dedication to his craft affirmed by the kind words of someone he held in high regard. "I'm honored to be a part of this."

With a knowing smile, Eric acknowledged James' commitment to his routine. "I see you're making your usual rounds."

"Yes, sir. Always," James replied, his voice filled with conviction, appreciating that his dedication had not gone unnoticed.

"Good. I wanted to give you a heads up about tonight. You'll be in the opener, facing Steven Richard, and you'll be making your debut as a heel. Right after that, your typical backstage interview and after that, we need you to get with the producers, we need to make your renders," Eric informed him, providing valuable insight into the night's proceedings.

"Thank you for the heads-up," James responded with genuine appreciation, his mind already racing with ideas and strategies for his debut match.

"Good luck," Eric offered, patting James on the shoulder before departing, leaving the young performer to stand there, taking a deep breath, ready to embrace the challenge that lay before him.

The young Canadian grappler stood in the mirror in the locker room examining himself as he finished preparing for his match tonight. His eyes, a captivating steel blue hue, possessed an intensity that seemed to penetrate deep into one's soul. They held a magnetic quality that drew people in, leaving a lasting impression. His eyes scanned over his face, a face that many women had deemed attractive. His face had a chiseled jawline that only accentuated his rugged charm. His chin housed a distinct cleft. His long, wavy jet black hair cascaded stylishly down his broad shoulders, framing his face with an air of mystery. His well-groomed eyebrows perfectly complimented his piercing eyes, further enhancing his striking appearance. He sports a light 5 o'clock shadow along his jawline adding a sense of ruggedness to his overall polished look. His physique is a testament to his dedication to fitness, featuring a chiseled build with a toned chest, well-defined arms, and broad shoulders.

His ring gear for the night, a pair of white wrestling boots with a pair of black AMA knee pads with a red padded knee pad over it with a pair of red trunks with his initials CH in the right front corner of his trunks with the "Hawthorne" family crest which was a shield with two lions on each side of the crest with a crown above the shield with an H in the center of the shield with Hawthorne written on a ribbon down below the crest. To finish off his look, he donned white wrist tape on both wrists to ensure protection and stability.

He took a deep breath before walking out the rest room and walked over to his robe and placed it on his body. The same robe that had earned him some attention over the years. The robe made from a luxurious satin fabric, the robe cascades gracefully down his form, flowing with every step he takes. The dominant color is black. The fabric shimmers under the arena lights, creating a captivating spectacle as it catches and reflects the luminosity.

The robe is generously embellished with intricate red embroidery, adorning the lapels, cuffs, and hemline. Elaborate patterns of interwoven symbols and designs, inspired by ancient mythologies and warrior cultures, lend an air of mystique and grandeur to the garment.

At the back of the robe, a large, embroidered Hawhtorne crest. The lion's eyes are adorned with gleaming Swarovski crystals, adding a touch of brilliance to the overall design.

The robe drapes elegantly over Chris's shoulders, fastened at the waist with a thick, intricately braided red cord. As he moves, the flowing fabric sways in perfect harmony with his strides, enhancing his commanding presence and captivating the audience's attention. He proceeded to walk out of the locker room and make his way to the gorilla position.

Monday Night Raw was underway as the crowd was fired up for the show. In the ring already was Stevie Richards with Victoria by his side with her WWE Women's title resting around her waist.

"Reborn" by $CFO Hits

The lights in the arena started to dim in the arena as the music played on the PA system. The sound of a symphonic orchestra would fill the arena, accompanied by a powerful, orchestral theme song uniquely created. With the music building up to a drop of the beat, the 6'3 Chris Hawthorne would emerge from the back standing tall and exuding confidence.

Hawthorne would embrace the spotlight on himself as he extended his arms and basked in the adulation. He would then remove his robe with a flourish, revealing his ring attire underneath before starting to make his way down the ramp.

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, making his way to the ring from Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Weighing in at 257 Pounds. Chris Hawthorne!"

As he reached the ring, Chris Hawthorne would ascend the steel steps, pausing at the apron to survey the crowd, his piercing gaze locking onto each fan in attendance.

"And his opponent, already in the ring, from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 230 pounds. Being accompanied by the WWE Women's Champion, Victoria. Stevie Richards!"

He wiped his boots on the ring apron and entered the ring with a confident stride. He strided over to the turnbuckle and climbed up to the turnbuckle. He extended his arms, basking in the adulation of the fans just like he did on the stage.

He descended down from the turnbuckle and turned towards Stevie Richards as the lights in the arena turned back to normal.

Ding-Ding-Ding!

Chris Hawthorne and Steven Richards circled around the ring before both men lunged forward looking for a collar-elbow-tie up but Hawthorne quick with it, ducked the attempt and stood behind Richard clocking him back with a blow. Chris with another hard blow making Steven drop down to a knee towards the ropes. Chris grabbed Steven by the hair, ignoring the boos from the fans and drug him over to the corner, smashing his face into the turnbuckle.

Steven tried leaning into the corner to get some reprieve but this proved to be a mistake as Hawthorne clocked him with a right hand. A right hand that sent the Stevie stumbling out of the corner and leaning against the ropes. Chris followed suit continuing his plan of attack as he grabbed Stevie by the wrist and whipped into the ropes.

Stevie came off the ropes and Hawthorne went for a clothesline but Stevie ducked it and hit the ropes once more. When Steve popped off he jumping up taking Chris down with a flying headscissors. Chris quickly popped up and ran towards Stevie only to be taken down with a arm drag to which Stevie kept a grounded wristlock on.

Stevie wrenched in on the arm as the referee was in Chris' face about the arm lock. Chris, using some of his famous technical prowess and athleticism, kipped up while Stevie kept the hold locked on and was able to roll through so that he had control of the wrist lock as he was up on his feet. He pushed Stevie into the corner keeping the pressure on the slightly smaller man as Chris was 6'3, 257 while Stevie stood at 6'2, 230.

Chris went for a right hand but Stevie ducked it and switched positions with Hawthorne. Stevie started to put the boots to the midsection of Chris Hawthorne. Stevie grabbed Chris by the hair pulled him to the ropes before he attempted to whip him across the ropes but Chris reversed it. Stevie hit the ropes and when he rebounded off, Chris bent down looking for a backbody drop but Stevie clocked him with a kick to the chest and hit the ropes once more. Chris saw this as his opportunity and ran towards Stevie as he came off the ropes and hit him with a knee to the midsection making Stevie hit the canvas as Chris had a hand on his chest. Chris turned his head to the ringside area to see Victoria glaring at him making him smirk. Chris Hawthorne made a beeline towards Stevie and started to put the boots to Stevie before he turned his attention back over to Victoria on the outside. Stevie saw this happening and took the opportunity to grab Chris and get him in a quick pinning combination with a school boy roll-up.

The official turned around and started his count.

1…

2, Chris got up and rolled over to his feet. Stevie and Chris both rose to their feet and Stevie kicked Chris in the gut, making him hunch over before Stevie locked on a front-facelock. Stevie tried to lift up Chris for his finisher, Stevie-T (Lifting Double Underhook DDT) but Chris was somehow able to shift his weight down and push Stevie into the official momentarily making him stumble back to the ropes. The official looked as if he were going to call for the bell only for Victoria to hop on the apron and start talking to him. This caused the referee to fully turn to deal with Victoria leaving Chris and Stevie in the ring with no supervision.

Stevie walked towards the official only for Chris to grab him by the shoulder and force him to turn around. Chris kicked Stevie straight in the nether regions with a low-blow before he grabbed a hold of Stevie and put him on the mat while hooking the leg with his patent, The Pinnacle (Fisherman Suplex).

The referee turned around despite Victoria trying to distract him.

1…

2…

3…

Ding-Ding-Ding!

"Reborn" Hits

Chris released the hold and rose up to his feet with an arrogant smirk on his face. Chris dismissively dusted his shoulder off as he shouted "Too Easy!".

"Here is your winner: Chris Hawthorne" Lillian Garcia as the official raised Chris' arm in victory. Chris looked on with a smirk as Stevie rolled out of the ring to Victoria. Chris walked towards the turnbuckle and stood on the middle rope, running a hand through his hair.

"You're in the presence of Greatness! I'm head and shoulders above all!" He said as he raised his arms again.

The tag team match between Maven and Test going up against Chris Nowinski and D-Lo Brown had just wrapped up and the cameras cut backstage to the Raw interview area where Jonathan Coachman stood the newest debuting Raw star, Chris Hawthorne.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am joined here by Chris Hawthorne," Coach said as Chris arrogantly held his head up high as the fans could be heard giving him a small boo in the background., "Chris, you just pulled out a dirty win in your debut match over Stevie Richards. Any comments on scrapping by?"

"Scraping by? Please. I won with a patented Pinnacle, as I always do, Stevie Richards was merely another tally in the win column as I march in on my path to greatness. He stepped foot in that ring against me and he dared to test my dominance and paid the price. As for my methods, I'll do whatever it takes to prove my superiority. This business is cutthroat; you either adapt or get left behind."

"Some are saying you used Victoria's distraction to capitalize. Care to comment on that?"

Chris scoffed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Victoria only served as a mere pawn. I saw an opportunity and I took it. She served her purpose as all should in my presence. Make no mistake about it, I have my sights set much higher than that peasant Stevie Richards. You see I didn't come to this company to waste my time battling mediocrity, I came to WWE to cement my legacy as the single greatest to ever lace up a pair of boots. And to do so I have to dismantle every single so-called "superstar" in the WWE. No one is safe from my rise to glory. Triple H, Brock Lesnar, Rock, Undertaker - they all will find no mercy from me. By the time I'm done, there will be no debate over who is the face of the WWE. Spoiler alert: it's not them. It's me. Chris Hawthorne."

"So let this serve as a watershed for everyone hiding in the locker room. I'm here and I'm coming for all of you. Your days at the top are numbered. Consider this your eviction notice and when I'm finished you all will learn that Chris Hawthorne is simply Excellence Above All Else!" Chris said on the mic before walking out the shot.

James had finally wrapped up with everything he needed to do and had showered and everything. Now he could finally take a break and grab some food from the catering service the company provided.

Once he had grabbed himself a plate, he took a seat at one of the empty tables in the area, a seat good enough to catch a good view of the show from the monitor. The Women's Championship triple-threat match had just wrapped up between Victoria, Trish Stratus and Jacqueline and so far Raw had about 2 more matches set for the night.

Just as he was about to take a bite he heard a voice making him look up. His eyes set upon the 5'8, raven-haired beauty that was Lisa Marie Varon AKA Victoria.

"Mind if I sit with you?" She asked with a smirk as his eyes had a mind of their own traveling up and down taking note of her curvy yet built frame.

"Yeah, go ahead and pull up a seat," he said trying to be friendly. She took a seat right next to him being only mere inches away from the young star making him

furrow his brow.

"Sorry to invade your personal space. I'm Lisa." She said as she offered a hand for him to shake. He reached gripping her hand with a gentle touch.

"I'm James. Don't worry, I don't mind," he said, deciding to take a chance with the Champion of the Women's Division. She chuckled at his attempts at flattery.

"Is that so James?"

"It is Lisa. You most certainly have my attention."

"If I didn't know any better I would say you were trying to flirt with me," she said in a low sultry tone.

"Well, do you?" He said deepening his voice in a husky tone.

"Do I what?"

"Know any better."

She simply shook his head at his boldness.

"Would you like to get a drink after the show? Maybe so we can get to know eachother a little better,"

"Yes ma'am, I would like that," he said with a wide toothy grin. She reached beside him grabbing his Nokia phone that sat beside him and proceeded to type her number in.

"That's my number. Call me when you leave the arena and we'll find a place to meet up," she said right before she stood up and walked out leaving him alone as he watched her walk off eyes glued to her backside.

"Damn," he muttered to himself watching her walk off.

A/N: So this is newest OC to be added to the peanut gallery of OCs who I have. The pairing for this fic right now is him and Victoria although I don't think she will end up being the final pairing of this fic. I'm not gonna cover every single match of his career, he will end up having a 20 year career and if I cover every single match we'll be here forever and the story will never truly advance. As for the theme song, yes I know it's Curtis Axels theme song and it's a song made in 2013 but I'm just gonna have to retrograde that song for this fic. Remember this is fanfiction so everything is not always going to be historically accurate in this fic.