That's Entertainment

[Jay]

Cold autumn night, the wind made the streets a much less inhabitable and enjoyable place… People all over looked for refuge from the cold and the icy winds that ominously proclaimed the inevitable coming of winter. The scene opened up right in front of a lit up building, red and white lights, enjoyable music, laughter, glasses and utensils clinking were heard in the background. Not far from that familiar, enjoyable environment… Right through the backdoor of the restaurant in an alley, the chef had just pushed someone out… He could be heard out crying “AND DON’T EVER COME BACK!”, before shutting the door. The man, clad in a leather jacket and jeans with almost impossibly messy hair just paced away from the alley and back onto the street, muttering things to himself. Before he could disappear into the night, a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Look what the cat brought in - or out, I should say.”

Dean Ambrose turned to the voice, which had taken him by such surprise that he almost slipped over as he swiveled around.

Dean Ambrose: This had better be important enough to have almost made me look anything but cool.

The straightedge savior approached Ambrose slowly, his arms spread out.

CM Punk: I thought the ‘cool’ part was pretty natural for you… I’m here to offer you a chance, Mr. Loose Cannon.

Dean tilted his head and opened his arms as well.

Dean Ambrose: Are you gonna hug me or what? It’s freezing out here and I’ve just had a bad experience and I’ve LEFT MY DRINK INSIDE.

Dean seemingly forgot about the hug and went to walk back to the restaurant. Punk caught him in his tracks and stopped him.

CM Punk: A hug is not going to return you the respect, the fear from others and the honor you deserve… A Drink isn’t going to do it either, but that is just a byzantine discussion.

Dean squared right up to Punk, their noses almost touching.

Dean Ambrose: DON’T THREATEN ME WITH BIG WORDS PUNK.

CM Punk: I’m just saying I’m not the best person to tell you need a drink, Dean. However, I am here to remind you what you once forgot. How important, how transcendent and how good it is to be a loose cannon. A loose cannon has a wider range for aiming, and can fire anywhere, whenever he feels like doing so. Unpredictability is a very valuable trait!

Dean immediately calmed down and backed off. He looked at Punk puzzled for a minute, then waved his finger at him.

Dean Ambrose: Ahhhh! You’re doing that messiah shit again. Where’s Gallows? Bald son of a bitch owes me money for a show I did in Nigeria last month…

Punk chuckled.

CM Punk: Money didn’t seem to be a problem when you worked for Ikeda. Hell, did you even work for him? I figured you just did your thing and got paid for it.

Dean Ambrose: I literally have no idea who Wes Ikeda is.

CM Punk: Do you like terrible music?

Dean Ambrose: Are you hungry? There’s a nice restaurant around here somewhere…

Dean focused on the restaurant he’d just been kicked out of.

Dean Ambrose: Here it is!

CM Punk: We can continue our conversation there…

Dean patted Punk on the back and led him to the building. They entered through the lit up door and Dean spread his arms wide.

Dean Ambrose: Your finest steaks for me and my brother here!

The man at the bar slammed his towel down.

Barman: That’s it - I’m calling the cops!

CM Punk: Woah, woah, woah! Why would there be need to call incompetent police officers who base their diet on caffeine and lard donuts?

Ambrose pushed past Punk.

Dean Ambrose: Say - have you got any donuts? OH LOOK!

Dean pointed at the table he had previously been sat at. He strutted over and sat down, re-united with his giant super fizzy cup.

Dean Ambrose: Over here, Cabana!

Punk walked towards the table and grabbed a seat, right across Ambrose.

CM Punk: Is this what you do nowadays? Make families uncomfortable in a restaurant? I mean… I completely get what you’re coming from - Check this out.

Punk stood from his chair and pointed at an overweight man eating a big hamburger with fries and a beer.

CM Punk: HEY YOU BLOB, DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING ANY GOOD TO YOUR BODY BY FEEDING ON THAT POISON? I HOPE YOU KNOW YOU ARE TAKING AWAY TWENTY YEARS OF YOUR LIFE FROM THAT MEAL.

Dean Ambrose: IT’LL BE LIKE HE’S WRESTLED RYBACK!

The internet implodes. Punk then sat back on the table with Ambrose.

CM Punk: Look. I know it’s fun to make people uneasy… I seem to have a gift for it. But you’re not going to go too far, one family restaurant at a time. Doing it on live television is where it is at.

Dean took a big sip out of his straw.

Dean Ambrose: WELL I’M BACK, AREN’T I? And it looks like I accidentally aligned myself with you. What’s the plan? Who are we beating up?

The scene faded out as Punk leaned in towards Dean, undoubtedly to talk about the Survivor Series show and to pep talk him in a way only CM Punk could. Of course, none of it really interested Dean, and as the scene faded out - so did the rest of the night in his mind.

There had been many wrestling fans in the restaurant that evening, of course because the EBWF was in town. There were kids with John Cena caps, Randy Orton t-shirts, even one man talking loudly about how Fozzy were the greatest band in the universe. Somehow, nobody had recognised Dean at first, sat in the corner with his back to all of them. He had worn a hat on the way in and a pair of sunglasses and was generally a master of disguise when it came to avoiding the excitable eyes of wrestling fans.

Slumped in a chair by the window in his hotel room, Dean remembered where it had all gone pear-shaped. It was at the mention of ‘sports entertainment’, by the same guy who had been waxing lyrical about Fozzy, around about the same time Dean had been enduring a conversation about John Cena’s new personal assistant from the group of young women sat directly behind him. It had all gotten too much. He had gotten up out of his seat in a hurry, ready to leave. However, he had swayed to one side halfway to the exit and tripped over a chair situated at a table in the middle of the seating area. There wasn’t any music on, so naturally every eye turned to the loud noise right in the middle of the room. Of course, one kid had immediately shouted

“Hey look, it’s Darren Ambrose!”

Of course, the kid had to get his name wrong. Dean’s slightly hazy mind momentarily turned to a time when one Wade Barrett had called him this - it turns out Darren Ambrose was a British football player. Bemused, he turned to the kid.

“Yeah it’s me, Darren. Off I go…”

Regaining as much composure as possible he clicked his neck then proceeded to the exit. That was until one of the group of young Cena fangirls had said, audibly to Dean

“I haven’t seen him in a while!”

“That’s because you don’t watch WWE, Luc.”

Dean had immediately turned round.

“Are you kidding? Is that actually a joke?”

The Fozzy fan had piped up.

“He’s back in EBWF, didn’t you watch Warfare?”

“Thankyou” - Dean bowed to the man, and once again went to take his leave.

“He did a pointless run-in. Last minute Survivor Series build-up. They clearly threw him in as they had no-one better to take the spot.”

Recalling that this was the man who had been passionately speaking about ‘sports entertainment’, and that the group of Cena fans had giggled and returned to their conversation, this time about someone called ‘Daughtry’, Dean had flipped.

After a number of shouting matches, which had resulted in not much in the way of rebuttal but simply shocked and awed faces, Dean had been kicked out of the restaurant. He had questioned how the girls even knew John Cena had a new personal assistant, and had told them to ‘read a fucking book’ instead of reading gossip columns. The Fozzy fan had taken an actual french baguette thrown at his head - he didn’t even sell it. He just got up and went to the bathroom.

He had known CM Punk was coming. He had asked him to come to restore his focus. The giant sippy cup, however, had contained something a little stronger than your average slushie - although it was at least 20% blueberry slushie, Dean’s favourite.

He and Punk had left the restaurant around 10 minutes after putting their heads together to talk business, realising that the barman had indeed called the police. The bad publicity would probably get them in trouble - and pointless trouble indeed as 2 hours later Dean was sat there without a single ounce more focus than he had before he had met Punk.

The whole incident however, upon reflection, gave him a sense of purpose. He tried to fool himself into thinking he didn’t care what those people in the restaurant thought of him, but it was true - he had faded into obscurity. His re-arrival on Warfare that previous week WAS a last minute thing. He got the call, came to work and launched himself into whatever angle they had planned. It wasn’t until after the show that he realised he had a match at Survivor Series - that was the whole point.

But he wasn’t just going to be filler for this match. He’d been at the top once before, and - keeping a level head aside, and spending as little time on his own as possible. - he could get there again. The ‘sports entertainment’ thing had bothered him so much because he missed wrestling. But that’s not something he was going to dwell on anymore tonight. He had Survivor Series to worry about - the launching pad for his own revival. And having a team? It would do him good. What had happened earlier that night was proof that he shouldn’t be on his own for too long.

[Jay]

On a side note - if the colours on any of my RPs are ever off-putting or difficult to read let me know. I'm actually colourblind and IT IS MY ONE WEAKNESS. OTHERWISE I AM PERFECT.

[Juan Ramirez]

Check my RP. Colors are overrated.