[One: O'Piper. Takes place a while back when Piper went back to TNA and when O'Haire was still employed with the E.]
He stood still after Roddy's explosion and slowly let out the breath he had been holding. He cracked his neck and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, staring blankly back at Roddy. "Well. That was mildly insulting."
Piper growled and kicked the chair next to him over. "Ya have no idea what it's like ta really be insulted. This," he jabbed his finger in the air, "is being insulted. Out there? That was bein' insulted. What I just said ta you? A walk in tha fuckin' park."
Piper pressed himself close to Sean, giving him a quick once over before shoving away. "You couldn't handle tha things he jus' said out there. Yer too damn weak ta handle it. He'd get in yer head an' break ya down."
Sean cocked his head to the side and looked up at Piper slowly. "Like you've done?"
Piper's eyes closed to slits. "Don't compare me ta that miserable waste of life out there. Don't you EVER compare me to a shit like that. I'm a million times what he is an' don't you ever forget it. Jus' leave, will ya? I don' need this."
Sean sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, "I just thought-"
"Thought what? That I couldn't handle myself here? Here's a bit of news, buddy boy. I'm a fuckin' fixture around here. I don' need yer help anymore."
[Two: Steph McMahon/Brian Kendrick. Based on Neil Gaiman's 'Tastings' ]
His eyes screwed shut and he jerked away, his voice coming out strained. "You had a brother."
She scoffed and slid off the bed, her disgust evident. "Everyone knows that. You could have read that in the tabloids." She stopped at the door and grabbed the handle. "You can leave now."
He glanced up, his hair falling in his eyes. "You killed him. You covered it up well. Your fingerprints are around his throat, the marks on his shoulder were from your teeth. You can still remember how it felt to feel him go slack under you."
Her fingers fell away from the handle and she latched the door quietly. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her skirt and let it pool around her feet before moving back towards the bed.
"What else?"
He dipped his head again, shivering when her hands roamed over his back. "He struggled. You liked it. You sucked him off once-" He paused. "Do I have to continue?"
[Three: Torrie Wilson/Roddy Piper. Unfinished Cypress Oubliette #2543]
The door squeaked open behind her and she spun on her heel, her hair flowing over her shoulder. She squared her shoulders and froze, preparing herself for his punishment. After all, she had wandered into forbidden territory. She was playing in a mistress's world. The dress she wore, currently clenched nervously in her fists, was worth more than what the club paid for her. Her diamonds, stolen from various jewelry boxes, meant more to the world than her life. People had walked on her with the stilettos she stood in. She was only playing dress up here, a little girl trying on her other's fancy things without permission. Soon the dress, the diamonds, and the high heels would be tossed into a corner and she would be tossed on the bed, punished for disobeying unwritten law.
Her fear heightened when he lifted her hair, her perfume lightly scenting the air around her. His fingers worked slowly at the band around her neck, unhooking the heavy satin and metal from her throat with an equally heavy sigh.
She whirled around to face him, staring blankly at him with her fingers resting where the band used to lie.
His smirk was his own, but the sadness in his eyes had to have been borrowed. He touched her cheek lightly, the smirk dissolving from his face.
"Yer free now, girl. Leave before I get all mushy on ya like a damned fool."
[Four: Shane McMahon/Stephanie McMahon. Shane as narrator.]
Do you remember the feeling of his hands in your hair, the way he held you in his arms and whispered things in that tone of voice that made you shiver? Do you remember how he made you french toast in the morning and left you with a syrup-sticky kiss before going to the office? Do you remember how he cooks you dinner at night, draws you a bath and then kneads the knots of tension out of your back while listening to your day even though his was twice as hard?
No. You probably don't. Those aren't your memories with him. Your life is probably take-out menus and empty beds in the morning. You probably take a quick shower when you get home, barely mumbling your goodnight as you fall asleep to the sound of old matches. He probably whispers dirty words to you while he's going at it, your mind on office paperwork.
Do you remember what it was like with me or has semi-married life erased all of our memories?
[Five: featuring Christopher Daniels]
The paperwork never ended. Applications, release forms, order forms for better ring gear - it quickly piled up on, around and beneath his desk. He loved running his own business, but the paperwork was going to kill him. He just knew it.
They'd find him under the paperwork and it would say "Former TNA Wrestler Dead From Aneurysm Caused By Paperwork." Or from massive papercuts. He tried to mentally figure out the correct number needed to bleed to death. He imagined it would be quite a lo-
"Mr. Daniels?"
The interruption caused his head to snap up, abruptly, and then his breath to leave him. He'd recognize those blue eyes anywhere.
"I didn't mean to interrupt, really. If you're busy, I can come back later." The boy was all manners and a nervous fidget. Some things never changed.
"No, no, it's okay." He rose from the desk, looking over the young man. "You want to train?" His eyes landed on the immaculate boots and familiar, broken-in kickpads the boy carried.
"Yessir. My dad said this was the place to go."
He pulled back, surprised. "Really?"
"Yessir. Said you were the best."
"Well." He reached blindly back towards the paperwork, retrieving the necessary forms. "We'll start today. No time better than the present."
[Six: featuring Petey Williams and Johnny Devine.]
"Come here often?"
"Oh yeah." Johnny slid a beer Petey's way, snapping off the cap with a bartender's ease. "It's a hell of a place. Especially on amature night."
"Really?" Petey's eyes fell on the dancer on the stage. "Hmm. Interesting."
"The talent's something else. They take requests." Johnny grinned, sinking back in his chair. "Can I buy you a lap dance later?"
"I'll pass." Petey pulled out his wallet, retrieving several crumpled singles. "Call 'em over."
"Alright." Johnny grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth. "SABIN!"
Sabin stopped dancing and grabbed the pole to keep his balance. He turned his drunken gaze towards his friends and stumbled over when Petey beckoned him. "Whatcha wan' Petey." He smiled and tested the name, "Peeetey. Peet-that's fun, you know? Peeeeetey."
Petey looked behind him and turned back to Sabin. "Here's 10 bucks. Show Bobby a good time."
Sabin grinned and stumbled off the stage towards his bewildered friend as Johnny's obnoxious laughter took over the club.
[Seven: Punk/Alexis Laree]
He liked the way she felt against him, warm body curled against his. Her fingers curled gently around his bicep, massaging gently as they relaxed together.
"Stop flexing."
He smirked, peering down at her. "What?"
"I said stop flexing. I can feel you flexing." She chuckled, squeezing his arm, "Are you trying to impress me?"
"Is it working?"
She chuckled and pushed away from the bed, pulling on his Misfits shirt. "No. I'm done being impressed with you."
He sat up with a scowl. "That's not fair. I'm impressive lately! Look at these abs. They're like steel. STEEL."
She caught his glance in the mirror and shrugged. "You're impressive? Impressive, maybe. Arrogant, definitely."
He chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. "Now I remember why we never worked out. Sex was great, but..."
She slipped back into bed and straddled his lap, squeezing his sides gently. "But I wouldn't inflate your ego?"
He chuckled, slipping his hands under her shirt. "Exactly, Lex. You were never any fun."
[Eight: Snitsky.]
He hated those promos.
He hated getting in her face, screaming and berating her so strongly, she shook in his grip.
That wasn't him; He was a good man, but no one saw it. Only Steph appreciated what he did, but that was for comedic value alone. Everyone else chanted that name at him, spit at him, ran away from him in fear and disgust.
No one understood the real Gene Snitsky.
No one understood how much he hated the angle and how much it hurt to make Lita suffer. No one understood how much "Baby Killer" ate at his soul and followed him out of the arena, into his hotel, through the airport and into his home. No one knew how it isolated him backstage, no matter how hard he tried to make a friend.
And now he stood in the hallway, all strength gone from his body. Slowly, he lifted his arm and rapped once, twice on the door in front of him. He took a step back and waited for it to swing open.
He saw her hand first, then her hair, then her frightened eyes. She pressed herself against the door, tilting her head to the side to peer at him from safety. "What do you want, Gene?"
He slumped a little, reaching out to her and then drawing away when she flinched. "To apologize."
Her eyes widened and the door shut for a moment. As he turned to walk away, the door opened again and he turned back, surprised to see her in the hall, quiet and unsure.
Her voice was small in the empty hallway. "...you have three minutes."
[Nine: Matt/Nidia]
"Matt!"
Before it registered in his head who had called his name, she had flung herself on him, causing him to stumble back into the merchandise table.
"Pardon me, but do you mi-" He pushed her back gently, but then drew her close again. He'd recognize that mass of curls anywhere. "My god, Nidia. I thought you were in Mexico!"
She pushed away and raised an eyebrow. "Are you stalking me?"
He searched for his words, flustered. "Well, no, I just-you-...the internet."
Her laughter bounced through the empty field house. "I was kidding. God, you're still uptight."
He scowled, despite her wink. "I'm not uptight. I'm just, well-nevermind, what are you doing here?"
"Came to see Jamie." Her smile seemed forced. "Well, he made me. Called me up and said 'girl, I'm doin' this new Ring of Honor thing and ya need to come see me' So...here I am." She shrugged and smiled at him. "And look at this, I'm killing two birds with one stone. I'm seein' you as well."
He smiled and they stood in an awkward silence. He scuffed the floor with his shoes, then looked up at her, pushing his hair back with his hands. "You busy after the show?"
"You mean, being ignored by Jamie, even though he asked me here? No, that won't keep me busy at all."
He smiled, but he realized she wasn't laughing. "Well, uhm, I was wondering...if that finishes up early, would you like to get a drink?"
She smiled and for a moment, he could have sworn it was genuine.
"Yeah," she smiled a little more, "I'd like that a lot."
[Ten: Randy/Evolution.]
At first, it's only a small itch behind your brain. You can see him staring at you from across the way, his eyes locked on yours, his smirk never wavering. A hand on the small of your back eases you out of your chair and before you know it, your friends are disappearing into the distance as you cross the expanse of the room.
He's friendly, polite, well-dressed. His harem of women is inviting as well, enveloping you when you take a seat at his table. At first, you're leary of the hands and lips on your skin, but his smirk and look of interest allows you to dive headfirst into his proverbial den of sin.
A few drinks later, you don't know whose hands are whose, but you really don't care. It isn't until you're being pulled out of your seat by two strong hands that you know who has you this time. You think for a moment that he's casting you aside, but instead he brings you closer.
You can taste the expensive liquor on his lips and that startles you more than the fact that his tongue is exploring your bridgework. But you kiss back, a soft gasp coming from the closest female. His gruff voice lands hot and heavy in your ears and you follow him like a puppy, trailing close on his heels out to his car.
Inside the car, you're inspected by an older gentleman and a second man who could break you in half if you were to get out of line. But you're not afraid (liquor did away with that hours ago). Instead, you're compelled to wonder if the two across from you, staring at you the same way he did earlier, are going to join as well.
As the car speeds through the streets, swerving into the darkness, you lose yourself in the sensation of three pairs of hands and the sweet sticky air of the night.