Lost then Found:A Dean Ambrose FanFicition

Chapter Sixty-Four: And the Winner Is...

Chapter Sixty-Four: And the Winner Is...

I stood motionless behind the curtains, waiting for my music to hit. The crowd was on edge, cheering "WE WANT BRITTANY," and booing Stephanie and Seth at the same time. I either gnawed on my nails or cracked my knuckles to pass the time. After a while, I began to become angry. I even wanted to look out the curtain, but I didn't. I wouldn't let myself. After a long while, Stephanie finally picked up a mic and began to speak.

"We want, Brittany. We want, Brittany. I know, I know. I want her too. I want her to come down that ramp, set foot in my ring and have her entire world destroyed right now. But," she paused momentarily, probably pretending to scan the vicinity,"I don't see her. I don't. Do you see her, Seth?"

"Nowhere in sight," he said, finishing with a laugh.

"I guess it just goes to show that Brittany Cena is all talk and no action. She has been saying throughout the entire week that she would walk into Wrestlemania with her head held high and make sure that my career would be put to a stop. She's here. I know that. But why isn't she coming out here now? Huh?" The crowd reacted with boos.

"She's probably still backstage, crying over that deranged, psychotic scumbag, Dean Ambrose," Seth said, barely having time to say the name before the crowd began to cheer for Dean.

"Ah," Stephanie's voice sliced through the noise," as good as that sounds Seth, that's not the reason why she's not coming out here. No. The only reason why is because she is afraid. She is afraid to set foot in this ring because she is afraid to face the repercussions for her actions. All of this could have been avoided months ago. If only she and Dean Ambrose hadn't crossed paths, none of this would have happened. But, despite what all of you may think, I am happy with the way that things have transpired. I love it when someone decides to break the rules and rebel against me because it just makes it easier to humiliate them, to demean them, and ultimately dispose of them. Unlike Brittany, I face my demons head on. I do not hide behind anyone. And I certainly don't let my personal affairs or my love life get in the way."

I smirked and laughed a bit. Paige was right. You're such a fucking hypocrite. The crowd, whom didn't know of the bitter confrontation that went down, realized what I had thought and started to chant "hypocrite." It reminded me of a time when Chris Jericho had been the most infamous heel on the main roster and spent most of his time calling others hypocrites, especially the fans. Nevertheless, I wanted the promo to end sooner rather than later. Waving a tech over, I tuned out Stephanie's shrill voice and whispered fervently into the girl's ear, telling her to tell the sound truck to wait approximately one minute before hitting my music. She nodded and pulled out her walkie talkie as I turned around and smiled once more.

"...she's a coward. Her own brother, John Cena, has something that she doesn't...and that is guts. So whenever she decides to come out here, I will stand at ringside and watch as Seth teaches her to respect me. I will watch with the ultimate satisfaction as she is beaten to a pulp. I will watch as her bones will be broken and her soul will be crushed. And when she can't go on and beg for mercy, I will laugh. That's when it'll all be over for her because in the end, I always get what I want. In the end, the Authority always wins. And as for Dean Ambrose, I hope that he tears her heart out again when she fails him. I don't even know why he's so attracted to her. You're so ugly and unattractive, Brittany! You're deformed. You aren't strong, and you damn sure aren't half the woman that I am. You're a little Gothic wannabe that can't even keep her mouth shut. He's pathetic. And stupid. Stupid enough to have fallen in love with you. And as the referee raises Seth's hand in victory, I will-"

I tuned Stephanie out, not wanting to hear her insults that did not affect me anymore. And just when I was about to rip open the curtain and go out there unannounced, my music ("The Deathsurround" by Butcher Babies) began to play, which enabled the crowd to start cheering once more. Adjusting the collar of Jon's jacket one final time, I put a wicked grin on my face and walked through the curtain. The lights were a bit blinding and the roar of 79,743 people deafened me. I halted at the top of the ramp and put my hands on my waist, smiling as wickedly and as dastardly as I could. If I could was going to use any advice that anyone had ever given men or use what I had learned during my training, this was it: I had to imagine that I was smiling into the face of death. Smiling at the one that always hates you pisses them off...which was what I was going for.