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Kenzie Rydell

Posts : 3
Join date : 2016-07-15

PostSubject: Welcome To The Trench   Thu Jul 21, 2016 11:29 pm


Her visage traveled up and down its pale burgundy walls, finally taking in the sight of the two-story building situated firmly in Nashville, Tennessee. She's never really paid much mind to the architecture, the sweeping pillars, the modest sign near the sidewalk. 'The Trench,' it advertised in plain black letters. Looking through the glass panes, the establishment was an ordinary gym at face value, but like its name suggested, it hid something deeper just beneath the surface.

Clenching her fists loosely, Kenzie Rydell took a step towards the door and turned the handle. The uggs she wore slapping against the tiled floor directly contrasted the smell of dried sweat caked on some of the machines, a twinge of blood and passion just out of reach. Her nose twitched like a bunny would, even if she had been here what felt like a thousand times before. In reality, the number of times she actually made the trek over here from her apartment a few blocks away could fit on one hand.

Kenzie was so accustomed to her own habitat, an immaculate gym on the other side of the city that she hadn't even considered spending time in her roommate's place of work. It felt exclusive. Part of that was marketing, part of that was just watching Spencer talk on the phone for what felt like hours about it. He used to go over each trivial detail in frustrating detail, sitting on the couch with his larger than life personality on display while she tried her best to ignore it. Topics ranged from marketing shares, investors, talk about how much Matthew Enterprises would input their creative control over the process. It was Kenzie repellant, corporate jargon that went over her head.

The sound of thumping caught her attention, hazel eyes speckled with green darting towards the door to the west. With a deep inhale, she swung the door open wide and headed down the winding stairs towards the expansive basement. The noises got louder, rowdy obnoxious screams leaving drunken lips. Chanting, a mob mentality growing ever louder as she neared solid ground as their Thursday ritual reached a concerto. This was normal.

"Kenzie. What a surprise to see you here." The man smiled with genuine emotion hardly seen these days accompanied a hardy handshake. Kenzie reluctantly complied, a bit of trepidation written on her face. "Have you finally changed your mind? The show's going on right now, but I'm sure if I spoke to Spencer about it, we could fit you in next week."

"I'm sorry. I can't right now, Jenkins." Her gaze avoided his own, shyly glancing at the wall beyond him dressed in all sorts of stereotypical Nashville trinkets. "I've just been so busy lately, what with NGW and FFW. I'd rather not overwork myself too much, you know?" Fortunately, the shaved-headed man in the dark blazer kindly accepted the excuse with a soft nod of approval.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, we'll be here," Jenkins grinned, premature wrinkles right underneath those bagged eyes of his. Yet another reason Kenzie avoided the corporate side of things like the plague as much as possible. The obvious stress it's put on a guy like Jenkins must have been tremendous, she thought. He was only 33. That mere fact alone terrified her.

"So, you're here to watch the show then?" His one track mind knew no bounds, it seemed. Did he expect her to pay a ticket? Were there even any left? She mauled it over for less than a second.

"I need to talk to Spencer. Can you get me into his office?" His eyes lit up, looking almost disappointed. Still, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his smartphone. Kenzie half-listened as Jenkins asked her own roommate whether or not she was allowed in, going over all the logicists about whether or not she needed a ticket. She couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but watched as Jenkins tried to make a quick buck. With a sigh, the call ended.

"Come with me," he feigned a smile, heading down a short hallway. Kenzie's feet shuffled her forward, heart pounding in tandem to the beats of the thumping. As they neared a gate, the chants grew louder, the animalistic crowd gathered around a makeshift wrestling ring. This is where the budget went. The lights above, the flawless bleachers, everything looked top notch as two of Nashville's best young independent wrestlers battled it out with more vigor and more ferocity than Kenzie's ever seen within a wrestling ring. It was a different side of wrestling, one without pomp and circumstance where upcoming wrestlers from all over the area got their start, but to see the crowd's reactions, you wouldn't know it. The energy they rained down on the two after every bump, every moment, was tangible throughout the room, something that gave her chills. It felt intimate, more genuine somehow.

Following Jenkins, she managed to see the woman in the match land a picture perfect shooting star press. The crowd chanted for her - Coda! Coda! Coda! - as she stood above her fallen opponent with a sinister snarl. Dropping to her knees, she crawled slowly towards her opponent, an animalistic rage within her and lifted his leg. The referee began counting to three, and once it finished, the burly man practically unconscious on the floor, the crowd erupted with joy. It was captivating to watch, an aura about the whole thing Kenzie couldn't describe, but before she could watch any more, they've reached the office door. With that satisfactory nod that he's been known for tonight, Jenkins slowly fled back to his post without a complaint.

"Yeah," Spencer told his phone, oblivious that his roommate just walked into the room. "We're planning on opening one in Seattle, should everything go well here. And then maybe Chicago... Listen, I'm going to have to call you back, okay?" Spencer's eyes met Kenzie's, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. With that, he ended the call, fingers drumming his mahogany desk as Kenzie approached.

"Having fun playing bossman, Spence?" Kenzie chuckled, playfully making fun of him, pointing out the blazer he wore over that red dress shirt. "You're starting to look like your dad, you realize that? That whole corporate stooge look you've got going on right now." Although it was just some harmless teasing between friends, Spencer winced at that possibility. Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, he tried to shrug away the thought.

"I take it you didn't just show up to make fun of my wardrobe," he scoffed, uncrossing his legs. "You needed something?"

"I was hoping we could go over the upcoming match with Joey Miles in a couple days," she grinned proudly, watching as Spencer reached into his file cabinet to pull out a dossier. Adorning the manila folder itself were the words 'Joseph Miles' typed out underneath a monochrome snapshot of his face akin to that of a wanted poster. Thick and filled with material, he shot her a knowing smirk.

"Where should we start?"

"At the beginning," Kenzie answered, brimming with confidence. Shuffling to the seat right across from him, she eyed the folder and watched as Spencer opened it wide, its contents clear and concise on every page.

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