Sanctuary

Chapter Two - Backlash.

Backlash noun

 1. a strong public reaction against something

Performance Center - Saturday, 11:23am (Tampa, FL)

"Sage, c'mon." I said causing her to glance up from her position on the apron. "You can't be scared to do this move."

You'd think she'd be on her A Game with the fact that I was taking time out of my busy life to train her. But then again, she was not a rookie.

She was a friend from back home in California. We weren't as close as Frankie & I since we'd known eachother since practically birth - but even coming in at age 12 - she fit like she had been there all along. Wrestling obsession included.

And she was a prodigy to say the least.

Anything we didn't have time to teach her - she'd pick up on her own. It'd been that way for many, many years now. Ever since I bumped into a younger, small little blonde girl while I was going to my seventh grade english class, I hadn't been able to not focus on studying the way she was. It was vital, a need. Because one day I just knew that our friendship would blossom into a mentor thing.

She just had that innocence that you want to snatch away.

Before Frankie and I left for development, we did just that. We were able to score her first job right in South Central LA in a piercing shop. That little favor set in motion a rebellion.

When we returned, She had completely changed. She was no longer cheering or doing gymnastics. Her blonde hair was rinsed a dark brown, her small arms were covered in badass tattoos, she traded in her beloved Volxwagon for a cherry firebird and she was now going by Sage.

And she made it very clear that she was ready to get in the business with us.

From the moment her contract was signed two months ago, we swept her right under our wings. Refusing to let anyone else train her. I'd be damned if WWE ruined another good potential. They were great at that.

So any available day we had, we flew down to Tampa to practice with her. She was a budding aerialist to say the least. Always looking to fly from anything that was at least five feet off the ground and making an impact on landing. Impressive seeing as how the only wrestling she had done - besides NXT - was in her backyard on a trampoline instead of the Indies.

But none the less, we were here to correct her.

"Alright," I held my arms out, watching as she balanced herself on the turnbuckle. "Let's go."

She took a handful of her hair and pushed it away from her giant brown eyes. "Which move?"

"Moonsault."

She nodded and slowly stood straight up. Trying very hard to not fall flat on her face. We'd had that happen before. Taking in a deep breath, she surprised me by jumping frontwards into my arms and I narrowly managed to catch her before we both went down.

I unfortunately broke her fall. "Sage, C'mon." I groaned, sitting up and staring at her. "You know saults are backwards."

"They are?"

"Yeah," Frankie nodded slowly. "I don't know what the hell you were doing up there." She pointed to the empty turnbuckle.

"A moonsault?"

"No, that was a crossbody." I replied, touching the back of my sore head. "One that definitely had some effect. Shit."

"It'll be useful if someone actually called for one. But we're not. We're doing Moonsaults." Frankie clapped her hands. "Let's try it again."