Respect
Monday, at Charlotte’s Bojangles Coliseum.
Paul Levesque received an unexpected morning visit from three women he never saw coming.
“Dad!”
Paul had been about to snap at whoever barged in without knocking—until the word “Dad” flipped his expression in an instant.
“Ayla? What on earth are you doing here?”
His eldest daughter Ayla strode in first, followed by Casey and Amy. Ayla and Amy dropped by the arena every now and then, but Casey hadn’t shown her face in ages. And all three daughters arriving together? That hadn’t happened since they were little kids—nearly a decade ago.
“It’s Charina’s official debut today. We came to watch.”
Ayla pointed at the shirt she was wearing—a Charina tee sold by TPA. Looking closer, Paul realized all three of them had on Charina shirts, just different colors and designs.
A flicker of heat rose at the sight of another promotion’s merch, but she was his talent now.
Damn it. I need to get Charina’s official shirts printed yesterday.
He still beamed.
“So my little princesses came all this way just to see Charina?”
“Daaaad—so you have to give us the good seats!”
“Right behind the commentary desk, Dad!”
Ayla had always been the affectionate one. But hearing his sharp-tongued youngest turn on the charm after years of silence? That was new. Even Casey, who’d been scarce lately, was looking at him with bright, expectant eyes.
“Sit down first. Wait—did you girls even eat breakfast?”
“Nope.”
“We didn’t. We rushed over.”
Paul hit the intercom and told his assistant to bring sandwiches.
“Does Mom know you’re here?”
“Mom bought the plane tickets.”
“She said she’s flying in this afternoon too.”
The eldest and youngest filled him in on how they’d ended up here. Casey, though, just kept fiddling with her phone, staying out of the conversation.
“Casey. What are you looking at that’s got you so quiet?”
“Just the wrestling boards. Dad… who booked that five-splash sequence?”
“John did.”
“Liar. That didn’t come out of Uncle John’s thick skull.”
Paul caved.
“Ugh, can’t fool you. Jane Kim. TPA’s Jane wrote it.”
“I knew it felt fresh. Way too good for WWO’s usual stiff writers.”
Casey threw shade right to his face, but she wasn’t wrong, so Paul just gave an awkward smile. His daughters had always been a little scared of him growing up, even when he did nothing, so the habit of keeping a gentle expression around them was second nature by now.
“Dad, then today’s match won’t go the way anyone expects either, will it?”
“Well…”
He answered Casey’s question with a smile. They knew about the merger, but even family didn’t get the full script.
“Dad! Please tell me it’s not hardcore again today. Charina’s younger than Casey—she’s still a baby. You have to protect babies!”
“Hmph. Nineteen, twenty—that’s grown.”
His nineteen-year-old youngest calling a twenty-year-old a baby earned her a slightly sulky look. Their lively reactions made the corners of Paul’s mouth climb higher and higher.
“I won’t ask about the match script. Just tell me one thing, Dad.”
“Hm? What?”
“What’s the concept for Charina’s match today?”
Paul thought for a second, then answered.
“Respect.”
The completely random word, unrelated to any match, left his daughters staring blankly.
Lately, the Law roster’s complaints had been climbing through the roof.
“Boss! What the hell is this? Give us a real script!”
“Aaron! How are we supposed to work if we don’t know anything? What’s the overall story?”
“Seriously? Who’s Charina even facing today?”
Aaron was surrounded by a dozen wrestlers, not just one or two.
“Hell, I haven’t gotten a proper script either.”
“A brand head who doesn’t know today’s story? That make any sense?”
“They declared war and we’re just supposed to… what?”
The talent didn’t believe him, but Aaron truly had no script.
Then the phone rang—his lifeline.
“Everybody shut up a second.”
“Who is it?”
“Paul.”
The name “Paul” silenced the chaos instantly. The call was short: gather every Law wrestler in the men’s locker room within thirty minutes.
“Paul says he’ll explain it himself. Get every single man and woman into the men’s locker room in thirty. No exceptions.”
“Paul’s actually going to explain properly?”
“Probably?”
A little later, every wrestler who’d come to Charlotte—plus producers, writers, and the brand head—packed into the locker room.
“Guess the boss really doesn’t know either.”
“What the hell is he cooking…”
“What about the Smash Down guys? You call them?”
“Same as us. Only a tiny handful got the script the day of and ran with it.”
Footsteps clicked, and Paul Levesque walked in.
“Everyone here?”
He scanned the faces, then got straight to it.
“First—today’s cage match with Charina. She comes out first and takes her spot. Then all of you swarm the cage like you’re about to climb in. Do not actually go inside. Not that any of you will want to, but still.”
“Paul—is this mandatory?”
WWO World Champion Jess Rolex took the lead.
“Anyone who doesn’t want to go can skip it. But if you go, you’ll see something spectacular. The ones who stay away? You’ll be kicking yourselves later for missing it.”
“Damn it. Still no real explanation. If none of us go in, who’s supposed to take the belt back from Charina?”
“There is someone. I’m keeping quiet because I want your raw reactions on camera. Hope you understand.”
Yazan raised a hand.
“Mr. Levesque—once that wrestler takes the IC title off her, what happens next? Do I have to run the title match against them all over again?”
“That belt goes right back to Bryan’s hands. Yazan, you just rematch Bryan. Same story as before.”
From Yazan’s perspective, another match wasn’t bad. More spotlight, and the belt still ended up on him like the original plan. How it got back to Bryan was a mystery, but he had no choice but to trust Paul.
“Bottom line: you all rush the cage where Charina is, act like you’re about to climb in, then just watch the show and leave. Not hard, right?”
A chorus of short “yes” answers and nods.
Jess Rolex, CM Metal, Chicago Night and a few others muttered among themselves.
“Kinda curious how good this new star really is—and how the match actually goes.”
“Crowd came expecting a cage match. Hope they’re okay with this.”
“Paul knows what he’s doing.”
“Where even is Charina? Wanted to see her face.”
“Probably not here yet.”
Paul cut the side talk with a single sharp clap and spoke again.
“I know a lot of you have questions about this war that just exploded between NEXT and TPA.”
The real topic. Every eye locked on him.
“Heh. You’re not going to believe this, but I don’t know the script either.”
The room erupted.
“What the hell are we even doing then?”
“This is bullshit!”
“This is insane!”
“Fuck, Paul—if you don’t know, who does?”
Paul raised both hands, calming the fury.
“Right now, somewhere private, John Michaels has his phone off and is writing the whole thing. He’ll announce everything himself on Wednesday’s NEXT. Just wait until Wednesday.”
The wrestlers buzzed, but Paul kept going.
“What I can tell you is this: WWO’s pie is about to get a lot bigger. Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday—at least four nights of WWO television every week. And separate from Ring of Crown, NEXT’s Halloween Battle will be open to every brand. That means a lot more opportunities—especially for everyone below high mid-card.”
Every man and woman who wasn’t a main-eventer or champion erupted in cheers.
“Hell yeah!”
“I might actually main-event!”
“On NEXT I could be champion!”
The room turned into a marketplace in seconds.
“Paul—what about the current champions? The main-eventers?”
“We kept Ring of Crown alive for a reason. Main-eventers keep doing what they’ve been doing. As long as your in-ring work doesn’t fall off a cliff, I’m not turning my back on the faces of WWO.”
The veterans relaxed at the immediate answer.
The sudden arrival of the “divine” Charina hadn’t just excited the fans and the office. The ones who took it most personally were the women of Law.
“She’s a fascinating kid, isn’t she, Miyu?”
Current Law Women’s World Champion “Mami” Lisa Rayple spoke; Miyu Sky nodded.
“I know it’s not CG, but it still looks like CG. She’s five kilos lighter than me—how the hell does she press a hundred?”
“Oriental mystery?”
“Pfft. Lisa, you know that doesn’t exist.”
“I know. Still wild. Take my power and your speed, mash them together—maybe you get her?”
Vicky Lynch slid into the conversation and sat down beside them.
“Dorothy Oswald. You two don’t really know her, right?”
“Nope. Only seen match clips.”
“Heard she was in WWO before we got here.”
Vicky listened, then gave them the short version of who Dorothy was.
“According to Dorothy, Charina isn’t a power genius or a high-flying genius.”
“Then what? Face genius?”
“Promo genius?”
Vicky wagged a finger side to side.
“Selling genius. She takes any move from any wrestler perfectly. And her own work is so clean she elevates whoever’s across from her to their absolute best. She makes the whole match jump a full grade.”
Miyu’s eyes lit up. So did Lisa’s.
“For real? How good is the selling?”
“She’s only twenty!”
“Yeah. You don’t know how proud Dorothy used to be… If Dorothy’s willing to job to a rookie, that says everything. And from what I hear, the Queen of Smash Down already has her eyes locked on her.”
Smash Down’s Charlotte Flair was the closest thing WWO women’s division had to a living legend. She could deliver a great match against any style, but she was at her absolute peak against great sellers—technicians and all-rounders.
Miyu’s aerial game was elite and her selling solid, but she lacked power. Vicky’s selling and improvisation were sharp, but she was a step short on aerials and speed. Lisa had the power, but aerials and speed weren’t her strongest suits.
Years ago Sarah Bankers had been Charlotte’s perfect dance partner and rival. Then she’d left over creative issues and gone to EAW long ago. The Japanese wrestler Asumi had meshed well with her too, but age had caught up and the body no longer delivered. Right now, there wasn’t a single woman in WWO who could fully catch everything Charlotte could throw.
“If she’s already on Charlotte’s radar, her work must be special.”
“Has to be. Charlotte’s eye for talent is legendary.”
“This is gonna be fun. I want a crack at her already.”
Lisa’s words drew nods from both Vicky and Miyu. The other women eavesdropping nearby lit up the same way—like predators who’d just spotted fresh prey.