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let-me-love-you-loki · 5 years ago

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An Ending Within--Ch. 7

A/N: This takes place at Revolution, with a small set of details changed.

Chapter 7

Heart pounding. A desperate rush of adrenaline into my veins. Deep breaths. My first showing with the Inner Circle. And it was on a pay-per-view. I bounced, working warmth into my limbs, rolling my shoulders. This was the moment that would make that debut worthwhile.

I dressed in my gear—Daisy Duke style denim shorts over dark tights and fishnet stockings, a tight zippered camo top, and combat boots—and made sure that my makeup and hair was done. That was something different about AEW that I liked, most of the time. I could control my look. Sure, I had to go heavy handed for the cameras, but I didn’t have to deal with horrible makeup ideas that made me look stupid.

The one thing I hated was that I had to pay to keep my hair done these days. The red had faded more than I liked, but Leva Bates had taken to helping me out with it.

Jericho stepped up nearby, bandana on. His jacket was studded with two-inch long spikes. I was pretty sure it was the same one that he’d used to put Jon’s eye out. Santana and Ortiz were just behind him—Santana with a bandana over his face and dark sunglasses—with Hager and Sammy not far away. The latter looked me up and down with a smirk.

“Looking good, Black.” Sammy said nastily.

I smirked. “Try something, Guevara, and see what happens.”

Jericho grinned and made sure that his AEW championship was tight around his waist. I grinned as I pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves. “Keep it in your pants, Sammy. She’ll kick your ass before you can blink.”

Before he could say anything else, music swelled through the arena. Jon’s entrance began and I could hear the pop for him when he appeared out of the crowd. I watched Jericho’s mouth turn down at the sound of people screaming for his opponent.

There was a sudden quiet and a choir began singing. I rolled my eyes at the pure drama of it. Jericho had gotten himself an entire church style choir to sing his theme, even though he knew his version would play before we walked out.

“Big Hurt, Sammy, you know your jobs. Don’t let me down.” Jericho turned toward me. “And you know what you’re supposed to do.”

“Of course I do, Chris. And we’re going to make it look perfect.”

***

There were only three of us at ringside—me, Santana, and Ortiz. Jon and Jericho were fighting like caged animals in the ring, doing their best to destroy one another. Every time Jon caught sight of me, I smirked and stayed in his line of vision. It was enough of a distraction that Jericho could get a few good shots in every now and then.

About halfway through the match, Jericho had Jon tight in the Walls of Jericho right in the middle of the ring. I paced outside the ring watching the whole thing, keeping my eye on where Aubrey was, waiting for the moment when I could make a move.

It happened when Jon was caught deep in the Walls of Jericho. I stood between Santana and Ortiz opposite the hard camera, leaning on the apron. Jericho was facing away from us, which made Jon have to look square at me.

I pressed my palms against the apron and started beating out a rhythm, yelling into his anguished face. “C’mon, Jon! C’mon… you’re almost there!”

There was a flicker of something like hope in his visible blue eye. As if he thought all of this had been a mistake or a ruse to trick Jericho. I wrapped my fists around the bottom rope and pushed it toward him, cutting off a few inches he would need to crawl to break the hold. Santana kept an eye on Aubrey, snatching at her foot to distract her when she started paying too much attention to where I was.

Jon crawled along the canvas, reaching out for the rope I’d pushed toward him. As soon as he got within grasping distance, I smirked, put my foot up against the apron and pulled the rope back as far as I could.

Unfortunately, Aubrey saw me. She slipped between the bottom and middle ropes and started railing at me, waving her finger in my face. I let go of the rope and stepped back, both hands up over my head. I backed all the way into the security rail and laughed, even thought people in the first row were shouting horrible things at me.

That was when I knew I’d done a good job… that they were starting to believe that I was a heel. And fucking over Jon Moxley seemed to be a good way to get on the fans’ bad side.

Jericho wasn’t happy. I could hear him shouting and cursing as he paced the ring. He pushed and crowded Aubrey toward the ropes, getting in her face. I knew this part of the plan. If it looked like he was going to lose… he had to get disqualified. By any means necessary.

Aubrey looked him over after he pushed her hard enough to make her stumble. Santana and Ortiz grabbed Jon by the ankles and started dragging him toward the apron, but he kicked free and got to his feet.

Just in time to get a glimpse of Jake Hager before getting sucker punched right in the face. It was a beautiful blow that knocked Jon clear on his ass.

Unfortunately, Aubrey saw it. The four of us—Santana, Ortiz, myself, and Hager—we stood ringside looking as innocent as we could. All of us with our hands up, shouting false pleas that we’d done nothing wrong. She pointed at each of us in turn. Santana and Ortiz climbed onto the apron, cursing and begging.

Aubrey wound up… and tossed all four of us from ringside. I let out a scream of frustration and beat the apron with my fists. My fellow Inner Circle members stood on the ramp, Aubrey leaning over the ropes to yell at them. Somehow, for an instant, she’d forgotten I was there. She climbed through, getting up into Hager’s face.

I looked back toward the audience, grinning as I saw Sammy Guevara running up and vaulting the railing. Rolling my eyes at his choice of attire, I slid into the ring. Jon was down on his knees, still reeling from Hager’s punch. In an instant, Sammy had snatched up Jericho’s title and tossed it into the ring. I snatched it up and hit Jon square in the chin with a running lariat, title in hand.

Rolling under the ropes, I tossed the belt back to Sammy, who hurriedly jammed it back on the ringside table. Together, he and I jumped the security railing and took off running toward the concourse. Fans yelled and booed as we ran by. I couldn’t stop laughing.

Security met us at the concourse entrance and guided us around to the backstage area. Once we were safely out of view, I ran to the nearest monitor and crowded up into the Elite, all of whom were watching the match with interest.

“Budge up, Hangman. Make some room,” I said, elbowing Adam Page out of the way. He chuckled and scooted a steel chair behind him for me to stand on. Grinning, I leaned over, forearms digging into his and Kenny’s shoulders for balance.

The match continued on. Blood dripped down Jon’s face from the shot he’d taken to the ring post early in the match. Jericho hammered his left side with punches and forearms. Just as it seemed Jon was going to hit him with the Paradigm Shift, Jericho went for his good eye.

“You son of a bitch!” I shouted at the monitor, blood boiling.

“You say that better than Kenny,” Nick called from the end of the row.

“Fuck off, Jackson,” Kenny retorted playfully.

“Hey, fellas. There’s a lady present!” Hangman declared, looking slightly concerned.

“You can mind your goddamn business, Page,” I snapped back even though there was a wide grin on my face. The cowboy laughed and shrugged, almost causing me to lose my balance.

Jon hobbled around the ring, trying his best to find Jericho. Jericho taunted him, keeping just out of reach of the clubbing blows that Jon could deliver. For a moment, it looked like Jericho was going to be able to deliver the Judas Effect. He ran at Jon, who was struggling to get to his feet. In an explosion of movement, Jon burst at Jericho and hit him hard with a sloppy sort of Paradigm Shift.

Smirking like the devil, he lifted the patch off to reveal a perfectly healed eye. I squealed at the pop that rattled the roof. Jon turned just as Jericho ran at him. One kick to the gut and an elevated Paradigm Shift later, Aubrey hit the one… two… three…

“Hell yes,” I shouted, popping up so fast that I wobbled on the chair. I let out a yelp as I tipped, slipping sideways.

Before my body slammed into the concrete, I landed in a tangle of cradling limbs. The Bucks grinned as they set me on my feet. “Watch yourself,” Nick said laughing.

I smacked him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Jackson,” I said, wriggling past him to stand in front of the monitor. Jon was in the ring, his title in his hands, talking and celebrating and cussing. He was grinning in a way that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I wanted desperately to go down to the ring to and help him celebrate.

Jericho came charging through the curtain into the backstage area. He glared the moment he laid eyes on me. “What did I tell you about that Elite trash, Black?”

I rolled my eyes and peeked around Nick’s shoulder. “From where I’m standing, they’re the ones with gold. You just got your ass kicked.”

“Because you couldn’t do your job! Don’t think about screwing me over. If you think you’re going to cost me my title and then run back to Moxley, you’re either an idiot or a moron.”

My blood burned. I pushed past Nick and shrugged off Matt’s searching hand. I stalked up to Jericho and stared him down, even though I had to look up at him. “Chris, do us both a favor and shut your mouth. And go fuck yourself.”

I flipped him off and shoved Sammy out of my way. From behind me, I could hear Matt and Nick laughing. I ignored them all and made my way to Jon’s dressing room to say congratulations.

On the way, I stopped and grabbed my phone from the female talent locker room. There was a message on it from Seth. I opened it to find a picture of him, Sefina in his lap, Kevin curled up beside him. Another came in just after… a snapshot of the TV in the living room paused at the exact moment I’d clocked Jon in the face with the belt.

Nice shot! And I LOVE that gear on you.

I grinned like a fool, glad that I’d changed my mind on wearing my Inner Circle shirt.

“Dollface!” I turned at the sound of Jon’s voice. He was beaming, the title draped over his shoulder, as he ran down the hall and swept me in his arms. Jon was sweaty and still oozing blood from the cut over his eye. “Did you have to hit me that fucking hard?”

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