❝WE'RE FIGHTING FOREVER.❞
TWO FORMER BEST FRIENDS reunite with their backs against the wall when the Devil walks right in and sucks the breath out of their lungs.
❝YOU'LL NEVER TAKE MY COMPANY❞- the devil assured, fading into the dark with their bro...
BACKGROUND — THIS CHAPTER STARTS OFF A DAY AFTER THE PREVIOUS ONE.
SUNSHINE
STARLIGHT
☀ + ★
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❝YOU ALL BETTER BEHAVE.❞ — S.S
WRESTLEMANIA WAS A superstar's best and worst nightmare. The week of the year's biggest event consisted of very little sleep, copious amounts of caffeine, high nerves, and tons of excitement.
The greatest sports event normally didn't take place until April or late March, but now, the upcoming draft had everyone feeling on the edge.
The edge of uncertainty, the doorway to hell or stairway to heaven. Either way, Samantha felt anxious knowing that it didn't matter where the wind would take her. In many ways, that red-headed ball of warmth whom occupied most of her thoughts was like heaven on earth, safe haven.
If she wasn't with him, everything would be red and blue.
RED with rage, BLUE with sadness.
At the same time, remaining in the same branch as her soul's sunshine would only leave things the same. As long as Stephanie McMahon and her idiotic husband were still around, Samantha would always turn up on the wrong side of heaven.
If only she could find the right side of hell, maybe she could strike a deal with the biggest devil of them all. Then again, Steen had taken to becoming a righteous force of her own. That demon she fed on hatred and rage was reserved for a special time and place, the doomsday still far away.
That draft wasn't until another week's time, but already Superstars were growing beyond anxious. Some continued pounding at the doors of authority, foolishly putting in requests of their preferred brand, but no one bothered to listen.
For the day being, everyone was expected to partake in media duties.
Among the summoned, Ambrose, Finn, and Sami were to sit in a questions and answers panel to promote the upcoming draft.
Rami smoothed the crisp white fabric of his shirt down, standing in front of the mirror and staring at himself with a tinge of disdain.
He picked out all the pieces he could most stand, and still, he didn't like the feeling of being in formal wear.
All those years spent on the independents weren't for him to someday be able to afford such luxurious clothing, but to be in spandex nearly everyday ... preferably inside a ring of course.
