TEAMWORK
Posted: Mon Jul 20, 2015 11:00 pm
Metallic clanking, shouting, and mechanical whirrings of various gym equipment could be heard as the camera panned around a local gym. Seconds later there was a thud and a heavily weighted bar was dropped to the ground after Seth Rollins completed a set. He was breathing heavily and was a little red in the face after finishing off his workout. He started racking the weights that were on either side of the metal bar as a woman, probably in her mid-20’s, approached him with a bashful smile. She hadn’t said anything to get his attention just yet. It wasn’t until he had turned around from the weight rack her saw her. She too had a couple of weights in either arm, and he returned a smile of his own and motioned to take one out of her hand.
Woman: Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.
Seth shrugged and reached out to take the other weight the woman was holding, still smiling lightly.
Seth Rollins: I’m here as much as my job’ll allow me.
He pulled the small towel that was shoved in his shorts pocket out and wiped at his face before placing back in. He held out his other hand for a proper introduction.
Seth Rollins: Colby, but you can call me Seth.
She chose not to reciprocate the shake just yet, instead quirking an eyebrow at him after having witness him wipe away at sweat. He noticed she was staring at his hand and looked down himself, nodding. She cracked another smile and reached out to shake it anyway.
Woman: Rachel Barry. It’s okay, I’m used to it.
Both shared a chuckle as she decided to start off slowly in the opposite direction, looking behind her to see if Seth would follow. He took the invitation.
Rachel Barry: So I’m guessing you don’t have any typical job?
Seth Rollins: Nah, I don’t. It’s anything but that. It’s gotta be the best in the world if you ask me.
Rachel looked to Seth inquisitively with a keen interest. He stopped walking, allowing her to unknowingly take a few steps ahead by herself, before she realized and had turned to face Seth, laughing.
Rachel Barry: So your name’s Colby, but you go by Seth, and you have this amazing body--
She stopped herself and let out a giggle after realizing she had said what she was thinking. For much of the time she had been staring at Seth’s torso instead of his face. Seth caught her eye and folded his arms over his chest as he stood waiting for her to go on.
Rachel Barry: And you have this amazing job too.
Seth nodded and tried to hold back a bit of laughter.
Rachel Barry: So what exactly is it that you do?
Seth Rollins: I get to beat people up for a living with one of my best buds. It’s alright. Sometimes we’re on TV for it, too.
Rachel Barry: So now you’re this macho fighter with your best friend. It doesn’t look like it though.
Seth put a hand over where his heart would be and sarcastically feigned taking offense to her comment. Rachel playfully batter at his elbow.
Rachel Barry: I mean that you don’t have any “battle wounds”. Wouldn’t you have a mysterious scar to go along with that mysterious persona?
Seth Rollins: No way. I don’t get beat up. Either I take care of people or Dean gets the best of them before I can.
Rachel Barry: Dean?
Seth Rollins: Yep, Dean Ambrose. My macho sidekick. We’re pretty awesome. Actually, we have a fight coming up in Monday night, believe it or not.
Rachel nodded, still obviously interested, but hinting that she wasn’t completely buying into Seth’s story.
Rachel Barry: And you and Dean Ambrose, who are you gonna be fighting?
Seth Rollins: Ahhh, just a couple of knuckleheads. Wade Barrett and Ryback.
At this point Rachel looked a little lost. The names were rather unusual.
Seth Rollins: Nah, really. I’m being completely honest here. You gotta believe me when I say it. These two are complete knuckleheads. And me and Dean are gonna kick their asses and show em just what a real couple of tough guys can do.
The entire time Seth played it cool. It now appeared that Rachel wasn’t falling for it anymore, but wanted to inquire more to see just exactly how far Seth would go, despite the fact nearly everything he’d been saying thus far was true.
Seth Rollins: Wade Barrett’s this pretty big guy; well so is Ryback, but I digress. Barrett’s this real grimy son of a bitch. He’s English. So he even has the accent and all that, and he claims to have been a bare-knuckle boxer. But you see this face right here?
Seth pointed at his chin and continued to speak.
Seth Rollins: Untouched. ‘Cause there’s no way in hell Wade Barrett knows how to take me out. Last week I got him good and made him out to be the little punk he actually is. Maybe he was a boxer back in his day. But now he’s just a pussy. So there’s that. Then he’s got Ryback. This gorilla that follows him around, eating everything he can shove in his moronic face, just so he can continue to talk about eating. He’s just huge. His head probably weighs 20 pounds at least. I wouldn’t put it past him; I did almost knock it clean off his shoulders last week, but it just wasn’t enough. I did stomp a hole through Wade’s skull though. That was alright. I just know Dean’s itchin’ to get both of them and kick their teeth in. After their little gang up on him last week I know he’s gotta be pissed. Poor guy gets beat up way too much for being a little different. It’s too--
“Wannabe” by Spice Girls rang obnoxiously on Rachel’s cell phone from inside her zip-up’s pocket. She quickly reached into it as if looking for any way out of the conversation. Once she realized it was only an alarm she swiped it off and looked to Seth. It was her turn to fold her arms now.
Rachel Barry: You know Colton, Seth- WHATEVER your name is, if you wanna impress a girl, how about not going overboard with your obviously over-embellished stories? I could see you boxing or wrestling or something--
Seth went in to interject and confirm her inference, but was overruled.
Rachel Barry: But Ryback? Seriously?! What kind of idiotic name is that? And oh yeah, “Wade Barrett the bare-knuckle brawler from England”. That really got my goat. You’re not mysterious. You’re full of it. Creep.
She turned away from him and he stood with his hands out, asking the world what exactly just happened. He started mumbling under his breath.
Seth Rollins: You gotta be kidding me…
After a few moments of pacing and fuming to himself as he tried to make sense of the situation, he stopped and turned to face the most populous part of the gym, yelling and even hitting at his chest a couple of times..
Seth Rollins: I’LL SHOW YOU ALL WHO’S A BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER. WADE BARRETT AND RYBACK DON’T STAND A CHANCE.
Somewhere in his display of dominance he had pulled the towel from his pocket out and was clenching it in his fist tightly, holding it up as if it were some trophy. When people started staring he cleared his throat and slung it over his shoulder, before popping his neck and stalking off to the showers. He snuck one last look behind him to see Rachel gawking, and laughed to himself before walking through the door.
-
Meanwhile.....
“Feed”
*thud*
“me”
*thud*
“more”
*thud*
Dean Ambrose was slamming his fists on the bar.
“WHISKEYYYYY!”
The crowd of people around him cheered.
Dean Ambrose: In fact, kind provider of life – FEED US ALL WHISKEY! WHISKEY IS FREE TO EVERYONE FOR THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES!
Bartender: You know you can’t just declare an open bar, right?
Dean Ambrose: WRONG!
He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled but official looking piece of paper. He opened it up and handed it to her. She read through it quickly, her eyes widening the further down the page she got.
Bartender: ….ah.
Dean Ambrose: ONLY WHISKEY THOUGH EVERYONE! OKAY, MAYBE RUM ALSO! CLEAR ALCOHOL IS FOR WHITE WOMEN ON DIETS!
He looked back to the bartender.
Dean Ambrose: No offense. I saw you eating a granola bar earlier.
Bartender: They’re really good WAIT. So you’re-
Dean Ambrose: Yep!
Dean grabbed a smart hat off of one of the fellow drinkers in the bar and put it on. He stood on his stool and raised his arms out wide.
Dean Ambrose: WELCOME TO CASA AMBROSE!
He threw the hat masterfully over the crowd’s head and through an open window.
Dean Ambrose: AND HATS ARE BANNED –WE’RE INDOORS AND ITS 2015 YOU MORON!
The crowd let out a big cheer and started to sing along to the song which had just come on the jukebox. Dean hopped down and turned back to the bartender.
Dean Ambrose: And my first order of business is to get YOU a drink. You’ve been working hard! Have whatever you want – as long as it’s not a smoothie. We don’t do smoothies right?
The bartender looked awkwardly over her left shoulder.
Dean Ambrose: Get the largest male employee we have here to crush it. Now if you don’t mind, I have a party to start!
Some time passed, in which a lot was consumed, many songs were sang and good times were had. The usual bar atmosphere had turned into more of a celebration. Ambrose was the centre of the party. Most of the people probably had no idea who he was or what he did for a living – they just cared that almost everything was free. After a good couple of hours, Dean took a step outside where the bar’s smoking contingent were outside puffing away. He lit up a large cigar – or attempted to anyway.
???: It’s the wrong way round, bro – here.
A man approached Dean and turned the cigar around, then lit it for him.
Dean Ambrose: YOUTHANK! Oh.
He narrowed his eyes at the man and then straightened up.
Dean Ambrose: I am the proprietor of this fine establishment! Are you having a good time… Rick?
The man looked confused, but then smiled and nodded appreciatively.
Dave: It’s Dave, but a good guess at a generic bar goer’s name. Yeah, I’ve lived in Vegas a couple of years and I always hated this place. Tonight though… not so much.
Dean grinned a gigantic smile, his eyes beaming.
Dean Ambrose: Rick – you are the man. Do you want a job? Do you want to marry me? HELL, YOU NEVER HAVE TO PAY HERE!
He raised his hand for a high-five, which Dave reciprocated. Another voice interrupted the two.
???: Hey, erm… excuse me?
Someone was tapping Dean on the shoulder. He turned around and greeted the young man with a hug.
Dean Ambrose: HEY! What’re you drinking? It better have a colour!
The young man looked a bit flustered and cleared his throat.
???: N-nothing. I...
Dean Ambrose: Well get yourself to the bar! This is a party! What’s your name? I’ll add you to the lifetime VIP list.
???: It’s Tom. I.. I’m only 20. I was just walking past and I saw you here.
Dean backed off.
Dean Ambrose: Do I owe you money?
He sized Tom up.
Dean Ambrose: DON’T YOU ROUGHHOUSE ME I’M BIGGER THAN YOU! Rick, have my back!
Dave had walked off about a minute earlier.
Tom: No! No. I’m sorry. I’m a wrestling fan. I know some of you guys don’t take too well to being approached in public..
Dean’s expression changed to delight once again.
Dean Ambrose: No it’s cool man! Hey, I’m meant to be a role model so you can come in but you can only have a beer. That’s legal, right?
Tom: Uh… I think so yeah! The law is for losers anyway… right?
He looked at Dean in an attempt at confidence, asif trying to impress the cool kid in school.
Dean Ambrose: RIGHT!! Hold on, I forgot I was smoking a cigar.
He looked to his hand and saw no cigar.
Dean Ambrose: Oh well.
Tom: So, this is what you do now?
Dean laughed.
Dean Ambrose: Having fun? I don’t recall ever NOT doing this.
Tom: No, I mean running a bar. That’s what you do… right?
Dean Ambrose: How did you know I ran this place? Word spreads fast!
Tom pointed to Dean’s white shirt, which had a name tag reading ‘BAR BO$$’ drawn on it in permanent marker.
Dean Ambrose: Well as of tonight, yeah! I figured I love these places so much, and Vegas so much that I’d just buy my own bar. I picked the closest one to my apartment, naturally. Plus I’ve never really spent my money on anything HUGE so I figured hey, why not?
He offered Tom a high-five, and he awkwardly gave him one.
Tom: Well… that’s cool! It’s just… I was hoping I’d see you back in the ring soon. But it’s cool that you’re doing something with the money you made wrestling! You really were awesome!
Dean laughed again, but a little less enthusiastically. He gave Tom a look of confusion.
Dean Ambrose: I… Uh… I can’t tell if you’re joking or not because intoxication.
Tom looked a little embarrassed now.
Tom: Well I just assumed, y’know… Since you’re not wrestling anymore-
Dean Ambrose: THIS ISN’T A JOKE IS IT?!
Tom jumped backwards in fright.
Tom: I’m sorry! I suppose I didn’t see any retirement announcemen-
Dean Ambrose: RETIREMENT?! I’M STILL A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG MAN! I HAVE A JOB!
Tom: Are you back on the indie-
Dean Ambrose: NO! WHAT IS HAPPENING? Am I back on the indies?
He looked deep in thought.
Tom: Well you were in the EBWF at the start of the year. I assumed you’d left or got fired or something…
Dean Ambrose: I WAS LITERALLY ON TELEVISION LAST MONDAY!
Tom looked a little terrified. Dean realised this and immediately calmed down.
Dean Ambrose: Have you not been watching lately? I was in the King of the Ring semi-final!
Tom: I watch some weeks… Not every week. Only in bits. And I only really watched the final. I’ve had so much school work I haven’t been able to pay full attention. I just… figured you were gone. I haven’t seen you on it in months.
Dean Ambrose: WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF THAT sorry, I’ll stop shouting. Well… I suppose I haven’t been on TV as much as I’d hoped. I’ve had a few blips… A few weeks off here and there…
Tom: It’s a shame. You were my top guy coming into 2015. Then…
Dean stared at Tom, awaiting the next line. However when Tom didn’t elaborate on the ‘then’, Dean appeared to deflate like a once-happy balloon.
Dean Ambrose: …nothing. OKAY.
Tom: I…This didn’t turn out how I hoped.
Dean regained composure and started speaking in a strangely forced tone.
Dean Ambrose: Tom – it’s fine. Listen, when you turn 21 you’re welcome here anytime. Did you want an autograph? Here, I’ll do you one better. HEY!
He shouted towards a woman who was smoking behind them. She smiled at him.
Dean Ambrose: THAT PIECE OF PAPER I GAVE YOU, CAN I SEE IT AGAIN FOR A MOMENT?
She gave him a wink and passed him a piece of paper from her handbag. She then gave him a suggestive look.
Woman: I’ll be at the bar… see you there. And I want that back for sure.
She winked again and went off to the bar. Dean waited until she was out of earshot and gave Tom the piece of paper.
Dean Ambrose: There’s my phone number. Text me next time we do a show you can get to. Bring your friends and you can come backstage and meet all the guys. DON’T PRANK CALL ME THOUGH I GET VERY SCARED. That cool? And watch Warfare on Monday! Me and Seth are destroying Ryback and Wade Barrett!
Tom nodded and smiled in delight. Dean shook his hand, Tom thanked him and he went off on his way. Dean smiled until Tom was long gone, turned away from the smoking customers and his expression turned to one of deflation yet again.
Dean Ambrose: Fuck… Man.
He shook his hands through his hair and slapped himself in the face a couple of times.
Dean Ambrose: That… wasn’t good. NOPE.
He stormed back inside and headed straight for the bar. He was greeted by the same bartender as before.
Bartender: Hey! What a night, hu-
Dean Ambrose: All the Jamesons we have. I’m worried what you just heard was ‘get me a Jamesons’. What I said was ‘give me all the jamesons we have’. Please and thankyou.
The bartender looked a little shocked at Dean’s sudden change in attitude. She forced a smile, nodded at him and came back with a bottle of Jamesons. Dean grabbed it, opened it and took a big swig.
Dean Ambrose: …not good at all.
-
The next morning.
The scene opened up in a dark and dingy room. The light filtering in from the window revealed a familiar sofa, dining table and chairs and a TV. In the space between the sofa and the TV, a man was doing press-ups, dressed only in sweatpants. Beyond him on the sofa was a slumped figure, snoring loudly. Every now and then, in between push-ups, the exercising man would glance towards the sofa, shake his head and continue with his workout. Eventually, the figure laid down gave one loud snort and his body jolted. It turned, sat up, and looked straight at the man in front, who had paused and turned to him once more.
Dean Ambrose: Did you just fire a gun at me? Not cool.
Seth Rollins: No, but sometimes I do wanna shoot you, Dean…
Dean looked horrified.
Seth Rollins: Now you ask why.
Seth stood from the floor and wiped his hands clean of some of the grime that stuck to palms.
Dean Ambrose: Why? Why would you want to shoot me? I don’t even want to know! That’s awful. And, uh, not what my head needs right now.
Seth laughed at Dean’s response. He rubbed at his chin.
Seth Rollins: So you think going out and getting shitfaced is what you need right now? You think lying there, pissing yourself on the couch is what you need right now too? Or tweeting your new girlfriends just so people can continue to make a fool out of you is just what your head needs right now Dean?
Seth stopped speaking only to walk over to the dingy table of Dean’s and swiped a packet of papers from its surface. In his fit he tossed them to Dean, and they hit him in the face.
Seth Rollins: You BOUGHT A FUCKING BAR?!
Dean sat up on the sofa and rubbed his head where the papers had hit him. He then looked up towards Seth, with a seriously tired yet thoughtful look on his face.
Dean Ambrose: ...that kinda rings a bell.
Dean put his head in his hands.
Dean Ambrose: ...shit.
Seth Rollins: JESUS CHRIST DEAN, GET A FUCKING GRIP.
Seth walked over to Dean.
Seth Rollins: Come on man, get up!
Dean groaned.
Dean Ambrose: Comfort…
Seth grabbed Dean roughly by the back of his shirt and stood him up.
Seth Rollins: You’ve had enough comfort for a fuckin’ lifetime. You really believe what you need right now-- hell, do you think what either one of us needs right now is a BAR?! Oh yeah, let’s get a couple beers to go with this shitty apartment you’re living in, that’ll fix everything, huh? Or how about you give a fucking toast to the fact that you didn’t win King of the Ring after making it all the way to semifinals, or that I lose a match to Daniel Bryan and he quits the next fucking week. CHEERS TO THAT!
He pushed a shocked Dean back down onto the sofa. Dean rubbed his head again.
Dean Ambrose: ...well what do you want me to say to that? I know the past couple of months haven’t been ideal, but…
Dean had a sudden recollection of the encounter with a fan the night before.
Dean Ambrose: ….fuck.
Dean got back to his feet, apparently energised all of a sudden.
Dean Ambrose: You’re right, man. I brought you in so we could change things but so far I’ve held you back. I mean, how can they run with a guy they’ve just brought in ahead of me, the guy they have faith in. You coming in was meant to propel both of us, but I’ve been the deadweight and look at us now…
Dean looked at Seth cautiously.
Dean Ambrose: ...just two losers with a bar.
Seth didn’t even smile.
Dean Ambrose: Okay, sorry. Yeah, I need to stop being a goofball. But, y’know, who cares what I did last night? All we have is what’s ahead, right? And what IS ahead?...
There was an awkward pause.
Dean Ambrose: …...no seriously, what’s next?
Seth’s face twitched slightly at the question.
Seth Rollins: A chance to redeem ourselves, Dean. That is, if you can pull yourself together by tomorrow.
Dean Ambrose: MONDAY? WARFARE! Ryback and Barrett! WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?! COME ON!
Dean went for the door. He looked back at a rather surprised Seth.
Dean Ambrose: What?! We have work to do!
He opened the door and quickly left the room. Seth stood for a second and looked at the spot Dean was just sat with squinted eyes, then to the door he just exited through. He shook his head and sauntered out of the apartment.
--
Later that day…
Dean Ambrose: HERE! HE’S HERE!
Dean paced towards a figure with his back to him.
Dean Ambrose: Todd! It’s time for YOU to do your job!
Todd turned around with a look of delight. He looked at Dean with a face full of adoration.
Todd Grisham: YOU’RE HERE! I’ve done literally NOTHING all day.
Dean Ambrose: I don’t care. Seth, over here!
Seth strolled up beside Dean, looking reserved as usual. He flashed a crooked smile at Todd before it faded away.
Dean Ambrose: WALLY! ROLL THE DAMN CAMERA!
The cameraman who had been slumped against the wall, apparently asleep, suddenly jumped into action and positioned the camera facing Todd, Dean and Seth. He gave the thumbs up.
Todd Grisham: I am joined at this time by-
Dean Ambrose: SHUT UP TODD. Hello everybody - Dean Ambrose here. And this is my heterosexual life partner Seth Rollins.
Seth turned to face Dean with the strangest of looks, but Dean continued as if nothing out of the usual.
Dean Ambrose: And we are the proud co-owners of DEAN BAR in Las Vegas, Nevada. And tonight - we show the world that we’re not just a couple of successful businessmen. Tonight, we finally unite to take the world of tag team wrestling by storm by taking out…
Seth Rollins: Wade Barrett and his fucking sideshow meathead buddy Ryback!
Dean Ambrose: Those guys we made fools of last week. Remember, Todd?
Todd smiled and nodded.
Dean Ambrose: ...because I’m kinda struggling. Anyway - those two guys have ran the tag division for the better part of this year. Well, I say better…
Seth Rollins: They ran it into the damn ground.
Dean Ambrose: And finally they were toppled by none other than the legendary team of… Stardust and Luke Harper. I mean, I respect Luke Harper’s style and Stardust’s… Uh…
Seth Rollins: ...pizazz?
Dean Ambrose: But it’s about time somebody legitimised the tag team division. We see the women pioneering their craft every week, in both singles and tag competition. Us men? We’re bringing shame to the greats, the Road Warriors, The Rock and Roll Express… Charlie Haas and Rico…. You get the picture. Tonight is where it all begins again for the art of tag team wrestling. And who better to do it than these two fine specimens before you Todd?
Todd Grisham: A-
Dean Ambrose: SHUT UP TODD.
Seth Rollins: You know what, Dean? Enough of just talking about it. Let’s go and kick Ryback and Barrett’s asses left and right all over that arena.
He patted Dean on the back, and off they went, leaving Todd looking sad.
Woman: Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.
Seth shrugged and reached out to take the other weight the woman was holding, still smiling lightly.
Seth Rollins: I’m here as much as my job’ll allow me.
He pulled the small towel that was shoved in his shorts pocket out and wiped at his face before placing back in. He held out his other hand for a proper introduction.
Seth Rollins: Colby, but you can call me Seth.
She chose not to reciprocate the shake just yet, instead quirking an eyebrow at him after having witness him wipe away at sweat. He noticed she was staring at his hand and looked down himself, nodding. She cracked another smile and reached out to shake it anyway.
Woman: Rachel Barry. It’s okay, I’m used to it.
Both shared a chuckle as she decided to start off slowly in the opposite direction, looking behind her to see if Seth would follow. He took the invitation.
Rachel Barry: So I’m guessing you don’t have any typical job?
Seth Rollins: Nah, I don’t. It’s anything but that. It’s gotta be the best in the world if you ask me.
Rachel looked to Seth inquisitively with a keen interest. He stopped walking, allowing her to unknowingly take a few steps ahead by herself, before she realized and had turned to face Seth, laughing.
Rachel Barry: So your name’s Colby, but you go by Seth, and you have this amazing body--
She stopped herself and let out a giggle after realizing she had said what she was thinking. For much of the time she had been staring at Seth’s torso instead of his face. Seth caught her eye and folded his arms over his chest as he stood waiting for her to go on.
Rachel Barry: And you have this amazing job too.
Seth nodded and tried to hold back a bit of laughter.
Rachel Barry: So what exactly is it that you do?
Seth Rollins: I get to beat people up for a living with one of my best buds. It’s alright. Sometimes we’re on TV for it, too.
Rachel Barry: So now you’re this macho fighter with your best friend. It doesn’t look like it though.
Seth put a hand over where his heart would be and sarcastically feigned taking offense to her comment. Rachel playfully batter at his elbow.
Rachel Barry: I mean that you don’t have any “battle wounds”. Wouldn’t you have a mysterious scar to go along with that mysterious persona?
Seth Rollins: No way. I don’t get beat up. Either I take care of people or Dean gets the best of them before I can.
Rachel Barry: Dean?
Seth Rollins: Yep, Dean Ambrose. My macho sidekick. We’re pretty awesome. Actually, we have a fight coming up in Monday night, believe it or not.
Rachel nodded, still obviously interested, but hinting that she wasn’t completely buying into Seth’s story.
Rachel Barry: And you and Dean Ambrose, who are you gonna be fighting?
Seth Rollins: Ahhh, just a couple of knuckleheads. Wade Barrett and Ryback.
At this point Rachel looked a little lost. The names were rather unusual.
Seth Rollins: Nah, really. I’m being completely honest here. You gotta believe me when I say it. These two are complete knuckleheads. And me and Dean are gonna kick their asses and show em just what a real couple of tough guys can do.
The entire time Seth played it cool. It now appeared that Rachel wasn’t falling for it anymore, but wanted to inquire more to see just exactly how far Seth would go, despite the fact nearly everything he’d been saying thus far was true.
Seth Rollins: Wade Barrett’s this pretty big guy; well so is Ryback, but I digress. Barrett’s this real grimy son of a bitch. He’s English. So he even has the accent and all that, and he claims to have been a bare-knuckle boxer. But you see this face right here?
Seth pointed at his chin and continued to speak.
Seth Rollins: Untouched. ‘Cause there’s no way in hell Wade Barrett knows how to take me out. Last week I got him good and made him out to be the little punk he actually is. Maybe he was a boxer back in his day. But now he’s just a pussy. So there’s that. Then he’s got Ryback. This gorilla that follows him around, eating everything he can shove in his moronic face, just so he can continue to talk about eating. He’s just huge. His head probably weighs 20 pounds at least. I wouldn’t put it past him; I did almost knock it clean off his shoulders last week, but it just wasn’t enough. I did stomp a hole through Wade’s skull though. That was alright. I just know Dean’s itchin’ to get both of them and kick their teeth in. After their little gang up on him last week I know he’s gotta be pissed. Poor guy gets beat up way too much for being a little different. It’s too--
“Wannabe” by Spice Girls rang obnoxiously on Rachel’s cell phone from inside her zip-up’s pocket. She quickly reached into it as if looking for any way out of the conversation. Once she realized it was only an alarm she swiped it off and looked to Seth. It was her turn to fold her arms now.
Rachel Barry: You know Colton, Seth- WHATEVER your name is, if you wanna impress a girl, how about not going overboard with your obviously over-embellished stories? I could see you boxing or wrestling or something--
Seth went in to interject and confirm her inference, but was overruled.
Rachel Barry: But Ryback? Seriously?! What kind of idiotic name is that? And oh yeah, “Wade Barrett the bare-knuckle brawler from England”. That really got my goat. You’re not mysterious. You’re full of it. Creep.
She turned away from him and he stood with his hands out, asking the world what exactly just happened. He started mumbling under his breath.
Seth Rollins: You gotta be kidding me…
After a few moments of pacing and fuming to himself as he tried to make sense of the situation, he stopped and turned to face the most populous part of the gym, yelling and even hitting at his chest a couple of times..
Seth Rollins: I’LL SHOW YOU ALL WHO’S A BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER. WADE BARRETT AND RYBACK DON’T STAND A CHANCE.
Somewhere in his display of dominance he had pulled the towel from his pocket out and was clenching it in his fist tightly, holding it up as if it were some trophy. When people started staring he cleared his throat and slung it over his shoulder, before popping his neck and stalking off to the showers. He snuck one last look behind him to see Rachel gawking, and laughed to himself before walking through the door.
-
Meanwhile.....
“Feed”
*thud*
“me”
*thud*
“more”
*thud*
Dean Ambrose was slamming his fists on the bar.
“WHISKEYYYYY!”
The crowd of people around him cheered.
Dean Ambrose: In fact, kind provider of life – FEED US ALL WHISKEY! WHISKEY IS FREE TO EVERYONE FOR THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES!
Bartender: You know you can’t just declare an open bar, right?
Dean Ambrose: WRONG!
He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled but official looking piece of paper. He opened it up and handed it to her. She read through it quickly, her eyes widening the further down the page she got.
Bartender: ….ah.
Dean Ambrose: ONLY WHISKEY THOUGH EVERYONE! OKAY, MAYBE RUM ALSO! CLEAR ALCOHOL IS FOR WHITE WOMEN ON DIETS!
He looked back to the bartender.
Dean Ambrose: No offense. I saw you eating a granola bar earlier.
Bartender: They’re really good WAIT. So you’re-
Dean Ambrose: Yep!
Dean grabbed a smart hat off of one of the fellow drinkers in the bar and put it on. He stood on his stool and raised his arms out wide.
Dean Ambrose: WELCOME TO CASA AMBROSE!
He threw the hat masterfully over the crowd’s head and through an open window.
Dean Ambrose: AND HATS ARE BANNED –WE’RE INDOORS AND ITS 2015 YOU MORON!
The crowd let out a big cheer and started to sing along to the song which had just come on the jukebox. Dean hopped down and turned back to the bartender.
Dean Ambrose: And my first order of business is to get YOU a drink. You’ve been working hard! Have whatever you want – as long as it’s not a smoothie. We don’t do smoothies right?
The bartender looked awkwardly over her left shoulder.
Dean Ambrose: Get the largest male employee we have here to crush it. Now if you don’t mind, I have a party to start!
Some time passed, in which a lot was consumed, many songs were sang and good times were had. The usual bar atmosphere had turned into more of a celebration. Ambrose was the centre of the party. Most of the people probably had no idea who he was or what he did for a living – they just cared that almost everything was free. After a good couple of hours, Dean took a step outside where the bar’s smoking contingent were outside puffing away. He lit up a large cigar – or attempted to anyway.
???: It’s the wrong way round, bro – here.
A man approached Dean and turned the cigar around, then lit it for him.
Dean Ambrose: YOUTHANK! Oh.
He narrowed his eyes at the man and then straightened up.
Dean Ambrose: I am the proprietor of this fine establishment! Are you having a good time… Rick?
The man looked confused, but then smiled and nodded appreciatively.
Dave: It’s Dave, but a good guess at a generic bar goer’s name. Yeah, I’ve lived in Vegas a couple of years and I always hated this place. Tonight though… not so much.
Dean grinned a gigantic smile, his eyes beaming.
Dean Ambrose: Rick – you are the man. Do you want a job? Do you want to marry me? HELL, YOU NEVER HAVE TO PAY HERE!
He raised his hand for a high-five, which Dave reciprocated. Another voice interrupted the two.
???: Hey, erm… excuse me?
Someone was tapping Dean on the shoulder. He turned around and greeted the young man with a hug.
Dean Ambrose: HEY! What’re you drinking? It better have a colour!
The young man looked a bit flustered and cleared his throat.
???: N-nothing. I...
Dean Ambrose: Well get yourself to the bar! This is a party! What’s your name? I’ll add you to the lifetime VIP list.
???: It’s Tom. I.. I’m only 20. I was just walking past and I saw you here.
Dean backed off.
Dean Ambrose: Do I owe you money?
He sized Tom up.
Dean Ambrose: DON’T YOU ROUGHHOUSE ME I’M BIGGER THAN YOU! Rick, have my back!
Dave had walked off about a minute earlier.
Tom: No! No. I’m sorry. I’m a wrestling fan. I know some of you guys don’t take too well to being approached in public..
Dean’s expression changed to delight once again.
Dean Ambrose: No it’s cool man! Hey, I’m meant to be a role model so you can come in but you can only have a beer. That’s legal, right?
Tom: Uh… I think so yeah! The law is for losers anyway… right?
He looked at Dean in an attempt at confidence, asif trying to impress the cool kid in school.
Dean Ambrose: RIGHT!! Hold on, I forgot I was smoking a cigar.
He looked to his hand and saw no cigar.
Dean Ambrose: Oh well.
Tom: So, this is what you do now?
Dean laughed.
Dean Ambrose: Having fun? I don’t recall ever NOT doing this.
Tom: No, I mean running a bar. That’s what you do… right?
Dean Ambrose: How did you know I ran this place? Word spreads fast!
Tom pointed to Dean’s white shirt, which had a name tag reading ‘BAR BO$$’ drawn on it in permanent marker.
Dean Ambrose: Well as of tonight, yeah! I figured I love these places so much, and Vegas so much that I’d just buy my own bar. I picked the closest one to my apartment, naturally. Plus I’ve never really spent my money on anything HUGE so I figured hey, why not?
He offered Tom a high-five, and he awkwardly gave him one.
Tom: Well… that’s cool! It’s just… I was hoping I’d see you back in the ring soon. But it’s cool that you’re doing something with the money you made wrestling! You really were awesome!
Dean laughed again, but a little less enthusiastically. He gave Tom a look of confusion.
Dean Ambrose: I… Uh… I can’t tell if you’re joking or not because intoxication.
Tom looked a little embarrassed now.
Tom: Well I just assumed, y’know… Since you’re not wrestling anymore-
Dean Ambrose: THIS ISN’T A JOKE IS IT?!
Tom jumped backwards in fright.
Tom: I’m sorry! I suppose I didn’t see any retirement announcemen-
Dean Ambrose: RETIREMENT?! I’M STILL A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG MAN! I HAVE A JOB!
Tom: Are you back on the indie-
Dean Ambrose: NO! WHAT IS HAPPENING? Am I back on the indies?
He looked deep in thought.
Tom: Well you were in the EBWF at the start of the year. I assumed you’d left or got fired or something…
Dean Ambrose: I WAS LITERALLY ON TELEVISION LAST MONDAY!
Tom looked a little terrified. Dean realised this and immediately calmed down.
Dean Ambrose: Have you not been watching lately? I was in the King of the Ring semi-final!
Tom: I watch some weeks… Not every week. Only in bits. And I only really watched the final. I’ve had so much school work I haven’t been able to pay full attention. I just… figured you were gone. I haven’t seen you on it in months.
Dean Ambrose: WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF THAT sorry, I’ll stop shouting. Well… I suppose I haven’t been on TV as much as I’d hoped. I’ve had a few blips… A few weeks off here and there…
Tom: It’s a shame. You were my top guy coming into 2015. Then…
Dean stared at Tom, awaiting the next line. However when Tom didn’t elaborate on the ‘then’, Dean appeared to deflate like a once-happy balloon.
Dean Ambrose: …nothing. OKAY.
Tom: I…This didn’t turn out how I hoped.
Dean regained composure and started speaking in a strangely forced tone.
Dean Ambrose: Tom – it’s fine. Listen, when you turn 21 you’re welcome here anytime. Did you want an autograph? Here, I’ll do you one better. HEY!
He shouted towards a woman who was smoking behind them. She smiled at him.
Dean Ambrose: THAT PIECE OF PAPER I GAVE YOU, CAN I SEE IT AGAIN FOR A MOMENT?
She gave him a wink and passed him a piece of paper from her handbag. She then gave him a suggestive look.
Woman: I’ll be at the bar… see you there. And I want that back for sure.
She winked again and went off to the bar. Dean waited until she was out of earshot and gave Tom the piece of paper.
Dean Ambrose: There’s my phone number. Text me next time we do a show you can get to. Bring your friends and you can come backstage and meet all the guys. DON’T PRANK CALL ME THOUGH I GET VERY SCARED. That cool? And watch Warfare on Monday! Me and Seth are destroying Ryback and Wade Barrett!
Tom nodded and smiled in delight. Dean shook his hand, Tom thanked him and he went off on his way. Dean smiled until Tom was long gone, turned away from the smoking customers and his expression turned to one of deflation yet again.
Dean Ambrose: Fuck… Man.
He shook his hands through his hair and slapped himself in the face a couple of times.
Dean Ambrose: That… wasn’t good. NOPE.
He stormed back inside and headed straight for the bar. He was greeted by the same bartender as before.
Bartender: Hey! What a night, hu-
Dean Ambrose: All the Jamesons we have. I’m worried what you just heard was ‘get me a Jamesons’. What I said was ‘give me all the jamesons we have’. Please and thankyou.
The bartender looked a little shocked at Dean’s sudden change in attitude. She forced a smile, nodded at him and came back with a bottle of Jamesons. Dean grabbed it, opened it and took a big swig.
Dean Ambrose: …not good at all.
-
The next morning.
The scene opened up in a dark and dingy room. The light filtering in from the window revealed a familiar sofa, dining table and chairs and a TV. In the space between the sofa and the TV, a man was doing press-ups, dressed only in sweatpants. Beyond him on the sofa was a slumped figure, snoring loudly. Every now and then, in between push-ups, the exercising man would glance towards the sofa, shake his head and continue with his workout. Eventually, the figure laid down gave one loud snort and his body jolted. It turned, sat up, and looked straight at the man in front, who had paused and turned to him once more.
Dean Ambrose: Did you just fire a gun at me? Not cool.
Seth Rollins: No, but sometimes I do wanna shoot you, Dean…
Dean looked horrified.
Seth Rollins: Now you ask why.
Seth stood from the floor and wiped his hands clean of some of the grime that stuck to palms.
Dean Ambrose: Why? Why would you want to shoot me? I don’t even want to know! That’s awful. And, uh, not what my head needs right now.
Seth laughed at Dean’s response. He rubbed at his chin.
Seth Rollins: So you think going out and getting shitfaced is what you need right now? You think lying there, pissing yourself on the couch is what you need right now too? Or tweeting your new girlfriends just so people can continue to make a fool out of you is just what your head needs right now Dean?
Seth stopped speaking only to walk over to the dingy table of Dean’s and swiped a packet of papers from its surface. In his fit he tossed them to Dean, and they hit him in the face.
Seth Rollins: You BOUGHT A FUCKING BAR?!
Dean sat up on the sofa and rubbed his head where the papers had hit him. He then looked up towards Seth, with a seriously tired yet thoughtful look on his face.
Dean Ambrose: ...that kinda rings a bell.
Dean put his head in his hands.
Dean Ambrose: ...shit.
Seth Rollins: JESUS CHRIST DEAN, GET A FUCKING GRIP.
Seth walked over to Dean.
Seth Rollins: Come on man, get up!
Dean groaned.
Dean Ambrose: Comfort…
Seth grabbed Dean roughly by the back of his shirt and stood him up.
Seth Rollins: You’ve had enough comfort for a fuckin’ lifetime. You really believe what you need right now-- hell, do you think what either one of us needs right now is a BAR?! Oh yeah, let’s get a couple beers to go with this shitty apartment you’re living in, that’ll fix everything, huh? Or how about you give a fucking toast to the fact that you didn’t win King of the Ring after making it all the way to semifinals, or that I lose a match to Daniel Bryan and he quits the next fucking week. CHEERS TO THAT!
He pushed a shocked Dean back down onto the sofa. Dean rubbed his head again.
Dean Ambrose: ...well what do you want me to say to that? I know the past couple of months haven’t been ideal, but…
Dean had a sudden recollection of the encounter with a fan the night before.
Dean Ambrose: ….fuck.
Dean got back to his feet, apparently energised all of a sudden.
Dean Ambrose: You’re right, man. I brought you in so we could change things but so far I’ve held you back. I mean, how can they run with a guy they’ve just brought in ahead of me, the guy they have faith in. You coming in was meant to propel both of us, but I’ve been the deadweight and look at us now…
Dean looked at Seth cautiously.
Dean Ambrose: ...just two losers with a bar.
Seth didn’t even smile.
Dean Ambrose: Okay, sorry. Yeah, I need to stop being a goofball. But, y’know, who cares what I did last night? All we have is what’s ahead, right? And what IS ahead?...
There was an awkward pause.
Dean Ambrose: …...no seriously, what’s next?
Seth’s face twitched slightly at the question.
Seth Rollins: A chance to redeem ourselves, Dean. That is, if you can pull yourself together by tomorrow.
Dean Ambrose: MONDAY? WARFARE! Ryback and Barrett! WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?! COME ON!
Dean went for the door. He looked back at a rather surprised Seth.
Dean Ambrose: What?! We have work to do!
He opened the door and quickly left the room. Seth stood for a second and looked at the spot Dean was just sat with squinted eyes, then to the door he just exited through. He shook his head and sauntered out of the apartment.
--
Later that day…
Dean Ambrose: HERE! HE’S HERE!
Dean paced towards a figure with his back to him.
Dean Ambrose: Todd! It’s time for YOU to do your job!
Todd turned around with a look of delight. He looked at Dean with a face full of adoration.
Todd Grisham: YOU’RE HERE! I’ve done literally NOTHING all day.
Dean Ambrose: I don’t care. Seth, over here!
Seth strolled up beside Dean, looking reserved as usual. He flashed a crooked smile at Todd before it faded away.
Dean Ambrose: WALLY! ROLL THE DAMN CAMERA!
The cameraman who had been slumped against the wall, apparently asleep, suddenly jumped into action and positioned the camera facing Todd, Dean and Seth. He gave the thumbs up.
Todd Grisham: I am joined at this time by-
Dean Ambrose: SHUT UP TODD. Hello everybody - Dean Ambrose here. And this is my heterosexual life partner Seth Rollins.
Seth turned to face Dean with the strangest of looks, but Dean continued as if nothing out of the usual.
Dean Ambrose: And we are the proud co-owners of DEAN BAR in Las Vegas, Nevada. And tonight - we show the world that we’re not just a couple of successful businessmen. Tonight, we finally unite to take the world of tag team wrestling by storm by taking out…
Seth Rollins: Wade Barrett and his fucking sideshow meathead buddy Ryback!
Dean Ambrose: Those guys we made fools of last week. Remember, Todd?
Todd smiled and nodded.
Dean Ambrose: ...because I’m kinda struggling. Anyway - those two guys have ran the tag division for the better part of this year. Well, I say better…
Seth Rollins: They ran it into the damn ground.
Dean Ambrose: And finally they were toppled by none other than the legendary team of… Stardust and Luke Harper. I mean, I respect Luke Harper’s style and Stardust’s… Uh…
Seth Rollins: ...pizazz?
Dean Ambrose: But it’s about time somebody legitimised the tag team division. We see the women pioneering their craft every week, in both singles and tag competition. Us men? We’re bringing shame to the greats, the Road Warriors, The Rock and Roll Express… Charlie Haas and Rico…. You get the picture. Tonight is where it all begins again for the art of tag team wrestling. And who better to do it than these two fine specimens before you Todd?
Todd Grisham: A-
Dean Ambrose: SHUT UP TODD.
Seth Rollins: You know what, Dean? Enough of just talking about it. Let’s go and kick Ryback and Barrett’s asses left and right all over that arena.
He patted Dean on the back, and off they went, leaving Todd looking sad.