From the Wedding Ring to the Wrestling Ring

A Rocky Beach
Tahiti – French Polynesia
Thursday, November 3, 2016

The roar of the waves filled the air, churning up a thick mist as they crashed against the rocky coastline. Aurora stood barefoot at the water’s edge, clad in a red swimsuit that peeked through a pair of beige crocheted shorts, as water flowed gently over her red painted toes. The new Mrs. Graves looked outward at the ocean as it stretched off into the horizon, a dreamy look in her eyes as she stood with her arms crossed. Her husband sat on a rock nearby, a camera hanging from a strap around his neck.

Aurora: It’s just so beautiful here... do we have to fly back to Vegas tomorrow?

Damon: I know how much you love it here, Harley. But, we do have to get to Colorado this weekend. And I’d like to spend at least one night with my wife in our own bed before we have to hit the road again.

“My wife.”

Hearing those words coming out of Damon’s mouth was something that Aurora was still becoming accustomed to. Nevertheless, hearing them put a smile on her face that she couldn’t hide, even if she wanted to.

Aurora: Say that again...

Damon got up from his rocky perch, wading through the ankle-deep water to stand in front of Aurora. He cupped her face in his hands; she could feel the cold metal of his wedding ring as the black tungsten carbide band came in contact with her skin. With a loving smile, he pulled her into a long, but tender kiss. For that moment, time froze for her, starting up only when he broke off the kiss to speak.

Damon: My beautiful, amazing...

He took a step back, a flirtatious smirk on his face as he gently took her hands in his own. His emerald eyes poured over every inch of her tattooed frame, as if he was gazing upon it for the first time.

Damon: ... incredibly sexy wife, who every time I look at her, she reminds me just how lucky I am!

Damon laughed as he pulled her into an embrace that nearly sent the both of them tumbling into the water. Despite the slippery, rounded rocks beneath their feet, Damon managed to regain his footing, preventing them from falling.

Damon: Look at that... you got me tripping over my own feet, Mrs. Graves! Anyway, you knew this was going to be a short trip. Doesn’t mean the honeymoon has to end...

Aurora: So we’re calling this a working vacation?

Damon: Something like that. Gotta stay in fighting shape, right?

Aurora: True. Though we did weird out that cop last night on the beach, didn’t we?

Damon: You mean that one that thought you were trying to run away from me?

Aurora: Well, technically, I was. After all, it was a race.

Damon: I swear, I thought that guy was gonna fucking kill me where I stood.

Aurora: Yeah... good thing I was able to talk him down. I guess that means we’re doing something right.

Damon: Making our training sessions look like legit knockdown, drag out fights?

Aurora: Yup!

The newlyweds made their way back up to a wood-plank covered pathway, with a wooden railing to guard against some of the more jagged rocks. Aurora leaned up against this as she slipped her feet into a pair of cork-heeled wedges. As a gentle breeze caught her hair, Damon reached for his camera.

Damon: Hold it right there, Harley...

Aurora: Damon, how many times are you going to take my picture on this trip?

Damon: As many as I damn well please. Now put your elbow back up on that railing...

Aurora shook her head as another breeze blew through, shoving her blonde locks over her shoulder. As she ran a hand through her hair, the telltale sound of the camera’s shutter signaled that he had claimed yet another digital souvenir. She scoffed as she stared at her husband.

Aurora: What? You’re not even going to wait for me to look at the camera?

Damon: Not for this one... makes it look more spontaneous.

She sighed as she slipped into her other shoe, a Mona Lisa-esque smile on her face.

Aurora: Whatever... you’re the artist.

Damon: And I’d be nothing without my muse.... Now come on... I want to get back to the bungalow and get the sleeping bags set up for tonight.

Aurora: Sleeping bags? What the fuck are you talking about? We didn’t bring any sleeping bags on this trip....

Damon: Yeah... about that. I thought we could spend our last night sleeping under the stars. There’s plenty of room for us to lay out on the deck by the pool. And as far away as we are from the neighbors...

The rest of his words were whispered into Aurora’s ear, eventually triggering a wide-mouthed, mischievous smile.

Aurora: Well, there’s one thing I know for sure; being married to you is going to be one hell of a ride....



Perry Private Jet
Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean
Friday, November 4, 2016

The new Mr. and Mrs. Graves enjoyed what would probably be their last bit of privacy – at least for a few more days – as they left their island paradise to return to the business that brought them together in the first place, professional wrestling. And while the idea of wrestling on one’s honeymoon might seem odd, for the Graves’, it made perfect sense.

Aurora walked into the main salon, carrying a couple of glasses of Jack and Coke. She sat down beside her husband, handing him one of the glasses as he adjusted the camera he had set up on the table in front of them. The newlyweds stared into each other’s eyes as they silently toasted their new marriage, then each took a sip from their glasses before Aurora turned to the camera and smiled.

Aurora: Four days ago was by far the greatest day of my life, as I laid claim to a title that NO ONE will ever be able to take away from me; I’m now married to the man of my dreams, and it just so happens, he’s also the greatest tag team partner I could ever ask for!

Soon, my husband and I will touch down in Las Vegas, looking to spend one night at home before jetting off to the next big thing, our upcoming match at Glory. And by “next big thing,” I’m referring to the fact that my husband and I get to show the thousands in attendance and the millions of viewers watching at home exactly why we are one of the best tag teams in professional wrestling. To some that may seem like a bold claim, but in the past seven months Damon and I have MORE than backed up that claim in the ring.

Aurora took another drink from her glass as she leaned back in her chair, smiling as she took a moment to admire her new wedding ring, a ruby and diamond band that glittered in the overhead light. Damon set his glass down, reaching over to take his wife by the hand, their fingers interlocking as he smirked into the camera.

Damon: This Sunday, my wife and I will step into the ring against two people who – to be frank – are nowhere near ready to take on a team like us. Sure, they may THINK they’re good, but what the hell have they done to SHOW the world what they can do?

Mrs. Graves furrowed her brow as her lower lip pouted slightly and tilted her head to the side.

Aurora: I don’t know, Puddin’. That Burchill chick seems to have made some headway in this business.

Damon: Yeah, but what does she have to show for it? Seems like every time she gets within arm’s reach of a championship, she either drops the ball or finds herself out of a job. If you ask me, she’s probably jinxed. On top of that, she’s a fucking snob!

Damon sneered in disgust, then took another drink from his glass.

Aurora: And you know this, how?

Damon: Check the tapes of her past matches. She acts like she’ll get the plague if she lets anyone touch her.

Aurora: Well, when you put it that way, I guess “snob” would be the polite word for her.

Damon smirked at his wife, who dipped a finger into her glass to play with the ice cubes inside.

Damon: And what word would you use?

Mrs. Graves paused for a moment, then let a wicked smile spread across her face.

Aurora: I’d go with “festering acid twat”. That sounds about right.

Damon cringed for a moment, which quickly faded into an approving smile.

Damon: Ooh... that’s kinda brutal. Of course, she’ll probably fire back with something about how we’re all worthless peasants, unfit to scrape the shit off the bottom of her boot.

Aurora: True, but at the end of the day, we’re the ones with two tag team championship belts on our records, not “Oooh, we were THIS close!”

She held up her thumb and forefinger to illustrate her point, her eyes narrowed as she and Damon stared into the camera.

Aurora: To put it simply, Your Highn-ASS, you may think you’re hot shit, but until you can say you’ve beaten us in the ring, you aren’t shit! As far as I’m concerned, you won’t even make it far enough to be able to say you got within a fingertip’s touch of a championship belt, because my husband and I will knock your ass right off of that pedestal you’ve put yourself on. I sincerely hope that your first in-ring experience with Redemption Wrestling was a humbling one, because if I were you, I’d start getting used to the taste of humble pie, because you’re going to be eating A LOT of it!

Damon: Part of what makes a successful tag team is the ability to work with someone else for the good of the team. Granted, the first time Harley and I were paired up, she could barely stand me...

Aurora nodded her head in agreement as he continued.

Damon: But we still managed to work together long enough to come out with a win. But you? Your ego is just too fucking big. You can’t stand sharing the ring with your opponent, let alone a tag team partner! And if you can’t get past the fact that you have to actually work with someone else, then you’re only going to find yourself staring at another big fat “L” on your record.

Aurora: And then there’s the other girl that thinks she’s a queen...

Aurora rolled her eyes in disgust as Damon sneered, leaning against the armrest of his chair to look at his wife.

Damon: What the hell is it with these chicks, anyway? First, that Jersey cunt goes around, calling herself the Jersey Princess, and now these two twats are both calling themselves queens.

Aurora: Pretty soon, with so many self-professed “queens” in this business, that title won’t mean a damn thing anymore. But then again, I look at Skye Dawkins, and already, I can tell she’s full of shit.

She turned to the camera, a smug grin on her face as she ran her finger along the rim of her glass.

Aurora: Honey, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, nor do I really give a shit. You can call yourself a queen until you’re blue in the face, but your last performance in the ring was FAR from regal. And you dare to call yourself a great wrestler? Hell, if that’s what you call great, then I’d hate to see the level of competition under whatever rock you crawled out of.

Damon: Skye, being born into the business doesn’t mean you automatically have this business in your blood. Just because Daddy is a promoter doesn’t mean you’re on the fast track to championship gold.

Aurora placed a hand on her husband’s arm, tracing the nail of her index finger along the outline of one of his many tattoos. Damon gritted his teeth, fighting off the ticklish sensation.

Aurora: Wait a minute, Puddin’. If her father’s a promoter, then that explains where her gross overconfidence comes from.

She smirked as she turned to the camera.

Aurora: Skye, you have a little something I like to call “Tori Spelling Syndrome.” Of course, instead of having the delusion that you can act, your delusion is that you can hang in the ring with the likes of Rebel Ink. Well, sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid you’re going to end up the same way you did in your debut... as a LOSER!

Newsflash... honey, you’re dealing with a team that has done nothing but destroy the tag team division in every organization we’ve ever worked for, and we’ve got the gold to back it up. #FSociety... reigning Tag Team Champions. NGW... that company closed down while we still held the titles. The only titles we don’t have are the Redemption Tag Team Championships, and even that’s just a matter of time before we lay claim to those as well. And while the last name of Graves is etched into the history books among the legends of tag team wrestling, where will you be? Flicking your hair back and forth like the spoiled little bitch that you are?

Damon: This Sunday at Glory, you two are going to be in for a hard lesson in humility, courtesy of Rebel Ink. Whether or not the lesson sinks in once the smoke clears is entirely up to you. But either way, this is just another step in our journey toward the Redemption Tag Team Championships.

Enjoy eating our dust, girls.

One more time, the newlyweds raised their glasses, toasting each other before Damon reached over and turned the camera off.