Reading Between the Lines

The picture on the wall was a comfort to Dr. Christina Morgenstern. It showed her with the members of her lab -- undergraduate assistants, graduate researchers, and doctoral fellows among them -- smiling as a team in the University courtyard. The familiar composition of the scene evoked memories of simpler times when she was truly in her element. Her former colleagues' comfortable but excited faces also served as a reminder of the value of teamwork, something she'd have to hold close in this unfamiliar territory. All in all, the framed picture was a good centerpiece for the entryway to Team Stanza's office.

The only problem was that its frame was slightly crooked.

See, Christina knew the person she'd invited to the office, if only by reputation. While doing research on AFW, she'd read some of what Rebecca "BB" Brightstone had written over the years. Even before briefly meeting many of their subjects, Christina thought they reeked of editorializing and tabloid journalism. Still, BB was the most well-known name in the business. Just landing an interview with her, especially for a stable as new as Team Stanza, was a surprise. If Christina wanted to put her team on the map and set them up for success, taking on the unscrupulous reporter was a necessary evil. In her own way, Christina would have to fight the wily redhead the only way she knew how -- a battle of wits. It wasn't exactly a high-flying test of strength or a sensual roll-around between the sheets like she'd been booking for her wrestlers, but like those matches, this was a contest where any sign of weakness would be ripe for the pouncing. Even if a sloppy office would be a weird thing to call Christina out on, she didn't want to take any chances.

Thankfully, the frame's positioning was easy enough to correct. Christina simply reached out and straightened it out, taking a step back to ascertain its alignment. "Good," she muttered, "cleaning this stupid office took all day. And all I did was the front and the lounge." Hopefully, BB wouldn't want to see the gym or, God forbid, her own office space. Cleaning wasn't exactly her strong suit. Even so, her work over the last few hours would have to do; Rebecca was due to arrive any minute now. For now, all the psychologist could do was press down her clothes one last time and wait for the door to open.

Christina's Formal Attire:

When an assignment came across her desk on most occasions, it was some low-effort puff piece she was expected to add some life to. Like throwing Christmas lights on a dead rat, it would still stink to high hell but it would draw the eye for enough to turn a page or two. It was the unfortunate tradeoff for her personal truth, being targetted by the higher-ups to busy her hands at the keyboard to keep her mouth from asking too many questions, especially after her brief run-in with the General Manager of Friction over worker safety concerns as it related to backstage beat-downs. Her adoring public wanted to know, but the powers that be wanted her quiet so here she was.

Today however was something of interest. An interview with some fresh young talent. The people themselves weren’t the primary source of interest to her, it was the fact their PR person had requested her specifically to conduct said interview. Was it her fame or notoriety that had been the culprit? She certainly hoped it was a kindred spirit who wanted to tackle the real issues of this business but it was quite possible they were a coattail rider looking to cash in on her rather rabid fanbase as a jumpstart for their clients. Regardless of their intentions, Rebecca wasn’t one to turn her nose up at a potentially juicy exclusive.

Rebecca "BB" Brightstone:

She had arrived at the address on her secondhand vespa and jammed it unceremonially up against a public bike rack. Two thick security chains to secure it to the rack and a nearby pole to safeguard her transportation from any would-be thieves. She had already run into issues with someone trying to hotwire the old scooter once before enough to be cautious when traveling far from her apartment.

Despite arriving slightly early, she had lingered outside. Taking in the ambiance of the area, jotting down any looks she received, noting the state of dress of the public around here to throw slapdash judgments over the location for flavoring. Nothing was above scrutiny from a bit of chipped paint to the slightly off-center lean of the address numbering. Depending on how the interviews went, these things could be humble and charming for a lovely underdog story for hard-working talents looking to grab a brass ring or something less wholesome, a dingy seedy local where rowdy upstarts gather to take AFW by force. The possibilities were endless thus far, she needed more to really nail down her opinion.

Once she had a few pages written in her claustrophobicly small shorthand script, Rebecca finally made her way inside heading in, making her way to the offices. Her shadow darkened the door proceeding a light knock, respectfully announcing her arrival. Fishing a hand into her pocket she tugged out a small digital recorder, setting it on her notepad and pinning it down with a thumb. These were her tools of the trade, all she needed to shine a light on the truth. “Ms. Morgenstern? Becca Brightsone here, from AFW magazine for our appointment.”

Christina's face blanched as she sat at a reception desk that usually went unoccupied. (Note to self: Find an intern. Preferably one she wouldn't have to pay.) The computer's screen was currently displaying the building's security camera feed, where Becca Brightstone was currently perusing the area outside their office. Their building wasn't necessarily in a bad part of town, but it was definitely as close to a budget option as she could get within 10 miles of AFW's main campus. There were more than a few water stains, cracks in the paint, and piles of trash for the reporter to notice, and based on how she was hurriedly writing into her notepad with every glance, she was indeed noticing them.

When Rebecca finally walked towards the front door, Christina released a breath that she didn't know she was holding. Whatever the redhead thought of their team's base of operations, showtime was almost upon them. Quickly closing the camera feed and turning off the computer, Christina walked briskly to the door, opening it when Rebecca knocked.

"Ah, Ms. Brightstone. Dr. Christina Morgenstern, it's an honor to finally meet you in person," she welcomed her new guest, offering a hand across the doorway. Dropping her title was, of course, an intentional move; as a young woman in academia, Christina had learned early on to never let somebody discount her credentials. "Please, come in. The girls are all quite excited to meet you." (Which was mostly true -- Louise was much less enthused about the whole affair.)

Closing the door behind Rebecca after she entered, Christina found her psychology training taking over as she sized up the redhead. The two of them were about the same size, which took away a marker of social dominance that Christina particularly disliked and was glad to not have to worry about. Still, Rebecca carried herself with a self-assured confidence that Christina couldn't help but begrudgingly respect. She sensed that the reporter was somewhat similar to her in that regard -- a professional with perhaps too much savvy for her own good -- and knowing how Christina herself could be sometimes, she'd have to be on her guard at all times in this chess match of theirs.

"I trust you received the dossiers I sent you last week? The ones with our brief biographies and career summaries?" A dangerous question to be sure, as it opened her up to some snide remark about her wrestlers. But how Rebecca responded would show a bit of her hand, even at this early stage -- specifically, Christina hoped to see how much research she'd done beyond those biographies.

"Ah, Dr. Morgenstern... right." Rebecca remarked in a slight monotone, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she looked out upon the accommodations the prodigious woman of academia did her business from. It would be easy to forget this woman had a degree based on appearances alone. When her gaze fell back to the manager she curled a brow at the outstretched hand. The young reporter made her inconvenience known in a slow silent display of shifting her notepad and digital recorder from one hand to the other before taking the other woman's hand to give it a small shake out of professional courtesy alone.

Making her way inside she had gone back to jotting small notes, wandering the room idly as the other woman spoke at her more so than to her given the divided attention. The ginger haired girl made a soft thoughtful noise, tapping her pen against the spiral metal spine of her notepad before responding to Christina. "I thumbed through them. Well prepared little promotional pieces, sure. I could see them tucked on a small side edge article with all the fluff. But I'm not here for the bunnies and rainbows to take on your clients."

She glanced back to peer over her shoulder, head tilted at such an angle the overhead lighting caught her glasses just right to make the lenses shine like bright white screens. A thin smirk curling at the tips of her lips as the small silent pause was accented with the gentle tapping of her pen. "I am here to dig in nice and deep and really get a good look at what you have here. I want to speak with your girls of course, but people like to know everything these days. Training routines, diets, the works. I want to see what its like to live a day in the life of one of your clients to paint a real picture of what it is you all do here."

"Of course." Christina nodded. She wished that it was just the reporter's apparent nosiness that led to that question. Unfortunately, the AFW fandom was equally nosy, which probably explained Rebecca's popularity. "In the interest of maintaining a competitive advantage for the girls, I might not be able to reveal all of our training practices, but hopefully we can give you enough of an image of our day-to-day operations for your liking." Establish boundaries. Provide assurances. Key tools in the effective negotiator's toolbox. The next step was to make a small, noncommittal offer to establish some level of trust.

"Perhaps if we have time later, I can give you a tour of our facility during my interview." She made the offer herself rather than wait for Rebecca to potentially make it, hoping to head off any potential surprises. Even so, she'd have to text their team group chat when she got the chance and beg the girls to give the gym a quick once-over. Leonie would probably be up to the task, but the others might require a bit of hope.

Christina politely ushered the reporter up and around the two-flight stairwell. "First door on your left," she directed Rebecca as they came out into a small hallway on the second floor, the psychologist eventually shepherding her guest to a small conference room. Though, the designation seemed altogether far too lofty for this room. A plain white foldable table sat in the center of the room, a collection of mismatched plastic chairs strewn about the space. A projector and pull-down screen tied the whole "Hollywood revolutionary's run-down briefing room" aesthetic together. As soon as the door opened, the four wrestlers of Team Stanza turned to meet their manager and interviewer.

Julie was tapping away at her phone, probably typing up some new content for her socials. She was the first to react to their entrance, instantly putting down her phone and decorating her freckled face with a wide smile. "Hey, Doc! Ooh, and you must be BB!"

Brooke was currently fussing over a rather annoyed-looking Louise's hair, combing it straight despite the Scarlet Streak's protests. The latter batted away Brooke's hand, facing the door with a furious blush. "Oh, great, here we go," she sarcastically cheered. "Sorry about all the commotion, Christina -- quit it, Brooke!"

"Sorry, but your hair is just so nice! Oh, what's up, you two?" The brunette in question was next to greet the newcomers.

Leonie was sitting at the table, looking up with eyes as wide as the plate in front of her. Her mouth was currently stuffed full of what appeared to be curry rice. "Omph, hay zhure, guysh -- gulp -- hey there, guys. We gettin' started soon?"

All in all, Christina could only hope that whatever first impression her team had left in these few seconds was a good one.

While Rebecca was a sleuth in her own right who enjoyed uncovering the dirty laundry left supposedly buried someplace remote, the sad truth that she knew was AFW's fandom had more of a want for literal dirty laundry of the women who graced the ring. Sex sold, as they said, but the eagle eyed reporter was always looking for something a bit more uniquely juicy than the run-of-the-mill T and A angles that were so pedestrian due to the sheer abundance of the stacked locker room offered.

"Trade secrets then, hm?" Rebecca finally turned to face back towards Christina giving the woman her full attention again. It seemed as though her interests had been piqued at the thought of uncovering something lesser-known thing. While not every secret she encountered made it into print, the wealth of knowledge she obtained simply to have it could fill bank vaults, fueling her own self-importance. The reporter flashed the manager a small smile, liking the coddling wording she used… "to her liking" indeed.

"A tour sounds… lovely." The smile didn't quite last, however, doing little to hide how unimpressed she had been with the facility from the entryway and the exterior, bleeding that into the grand picture. An uphill battle was in store for an offered tour and while it was something the reporter wanted her air of indifference almost made it seem as if Christina had been making an offer to placate the ginger haired woman. While it had been done in defense of keeping the probing journalist in check, Rebecca gave her pen a small waggle at Christina to manage to still send a curve her way.

"Actually, that would be great. Since we can't see all that goes into their preparation and training, I think a demonstration of the results would be just what the doctor ordered." She spoke as the collective we, not just one but many readers who had a thirst for more. It wasn't a suggestion either, already scribbling excitedly as if her proposed idea was one that had been openly agreed to without discussion even being needed. With a soft click of her pen, she tucked the writing device in the spiral spine to be led along by the manager.

"Part of the training process?" The ginger cheekily remarked of their journey up the stairs as they made their way through the facility, glancing along the walls and ceilings to take note of the conditions and furnishings with an appraising hum. Much like the front door, she paused briefly to gently rap on the door with a knuckle before letting herself into the room in an odd display of professional courtesy from someone who seemingly was always looking to catch someone with their proverbial pants down.

There was a shift in her overall demeanor the moment she entered the room, a bright friendly smile and a chipper bob to her step as she presented herself to the women she was to interview. She gave them all an excitable wave with her free hand as if they were all old high school friends meeting again for a summer getaway. "One and the same! My my my, look at all of you! AFW's future is looking brighter by the second with all these new stars, I should have brought my sunglasses… and some sunscreen." Rebecca shot a glance back Christina's way. "Isn't that right, Doc?"

"J.D.L., or do you prefer Julia?" The reporter slipped away from Christina as if the woman were an afterthought, moving into the room to approve each woman individually. "I saw the most recent photoshoot pic you posted to Instagram. Absolutely stunning. It must have been so taxing to get some of those shots but my oh my was it worth it. You are killin' it, girl!" Rebecca slipped her recorder and pad away into her jacket on the approach, offering out a hand for a shake with no fuss of attitude now that she was talking with the people who seemingly mattered.

"Ms. Betancourt is right, it does have a beautiful sheen. Loving the fiery red streak too, it's so on brand! I can tell you mean business Ms. Vandenbroeck. I am looking forward to seeing just how well you make the jump into an AFW ring. It's always great to see what translates between sports." Another offer for a handshake.

"When you set your sights on something the results show." Rebecca nodded her head towards Louise as her gaze fixed on Brooke. "I hope you aren't finding Japan's gun regulations too oppressive from home, with how lax things are in the States. Always great to see such a young talent pulling the trigger on a career shift. Very enterprising!" She would step around Louise to offer another hand.

"And you must be Ms. Lowen, I see you have an appetite as fierce as your namesake. Looks good, smells good, I can hardly blame you! Don't feel the need to rush on my account. We can save your literary debut for the tail end of things to give you plenty of time to finish." A small wink, gingers had to stick together after all. Leonie would get an offer to shake hands as well, though it would have come once the woman had made sure to wipe off her hands of any curry and assorted other edible residues. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Thanks! Well, Brooke was the one who..." Julie was rapidly interrupted as Rebecca shook her hand and continued to the next member of Team Stanza. After the leggy brunette's attempt at a conversation was spoiled, the rest of the wrestlers simply smiled politely, shook BB's hand, and watched her continue down the line. None of them knew whether the reporter's apparent interest in them was simply for show or if she was simply flighty. Christina had told her clients about Rebecca's reputation, of course, and not to trust her as far as they could throw her. (Despite the fact that some of them could actually probably throw Rebecca pretty far, they got the point.) But part of that reputation was a demonstrated ability to ingratiate herself to the "real" movers and shakers in the federation -- the wrestlers.

Still, Rebecca's introductions gave Team Stanza -- or at least Christina -- some insights. She'd clearly done her research. Dr. Morgenstern had mentioned Louise's basketball background, but Rebecca seemed to know exactly how much she'd mastered the sport. But her info seemed to be limited to that which was public knowledge; after all, Brooke wasn't nearly as much of a gun nut as her career and professional persona would suggest.

Julie looked out over the table, briefly locking eyes with Brooke. Being the two more media-savvy members of this quartet, they'd taken it upon themselves to size up the reporter, and even this brief encounter confirmed their suspicions. Both saw their manager's hand slip towards their pocket, but Julie was the first one up.

"I'm sure Doc already told you this," she said, positioning herself so that Rebecca would have to face away from Christina to talk to her, "but I think I'm the first girl up. Julie's fine, though, JDLOfficial isn't as much of a secret identity as it used to be, ha! I'm a big fan of your work, though -- your exposé on AFW's old sex toy supplier was out of this world!" Julie took care not to look at Christina, but she nonetheless saw her quickly whip out her phone and tap away for a few seconds. Brooke, Leonie, and Louise would each eventually see their manager's desperate text to them: "I'll handle her. PLEASE CLEAN GYM AND LOCKER ROOM." Hopefully, at least Leonie and Louise would be able to slip away downstairs to reorganize their workout space.

Putting the device away, Christina cleared her throat. "Ah, yes. I do think Julie would be a good place to start. She wasn't the first one I reached out to, but she was the first one to accept my offer. We'll be in the lounge, just across the hall. Ladies." She nodded her goodbye to the rest of her wrestlers, walking towards the door and holding it open. "And I'm sure you still have no problems with the one small request we'd discussed over email? That I be allowed into the interview room, only interjecting when absolutely necessary for context or legal safety?"

“You read that old piece, did you? A bit dated by my current standards, but fine work all the same. Something not covered in the article though was just how quickly they filed to settle out of court after I published. AFW takes its own in this industry very seriously, be it grappling or groping, so toxic toys are no laughing matter. I’m sure you can appreciate that level of care for your fellow talent.” Rebecca chortled as she drew her notepad back out, slipping the pen free. She had apparently seen or heard something worth jotting down and did so mid-way through her little chat. Julie’s attempts to distract the report seemed to go off without a hitch as the ginger hadn’t turned away from her once after introductions were made until Christina had spoken up again.

“Oh yes. It was no problem at all.” Rebecca gave the other girls a small nod of acknowledgment in her departure, moving towards the door where they were being directed. She stopped short of crossing through though, politely gesturing Julie to take the lead before following over. “Some people might be upset to have their interview chaperoned, not me though.” She left it that, not disclosing her reasoning.

In truth, it was often very telling when and where a PR agent or manager would jump in to shield an interviewee from a question. She surmised that while the context had been presented as a reasonable request to keep her clients safe from questions that might put their livelihoods at risk, it would likely be flexed a bit more liberally than that in practice. Such things gave her a bit of wiggle room to depict such behavior in a dubious when it was bothersome, letting her readers jump to conclusions. She didn’t have to misquote, simply lead the narrative a bit and things oftentimes fell into place. That was the price of playing ball with her.

She’d move along with both women, idly writing as they went to their intended destination. She kept her pad tucked in close as she scribbled in shorthand, making what she might have been writing nearly impossible to make out in case Christina had the urge to take a peek from around her side or over a shoulder. "How long did it take you to set up this location, Dr. Morgenstern?"

"Ah... about two months? The building was already here, just unoccupied, and I was lucky to secure some startup capital from AFW fans who are well-connected in the financial world." Realizing that she'd given Rebecca quite an interesting thread to follow up on, Christina quickly added, "All above-board, of course. I'm sure our investors wouldn't mind being named in connection to what we're building here. And it's all public anyway, so..." Christina continued, listing a few of their investors.

She was telling the truth; all of their backers were well-regarded investors in sports, athletics, and adult entertainment. None had obvious conflicts of interest -- she would explore equipment endorsements when they had a bit of a higher profile -- and none lent a particularly large amount to her. She'd even been careful to pick investors with limited histories of cooperation so as to reduce the risk of them ganging up on her in the worst case scenario. It was effectively venture capital, so it wasn't as if she had to pay them back if Team Stanza went under. Nonetheless, it was good to be prepared for anything.

Christina opened the door to the lounge, revealing a far more large and impressive room than any she'd shown Rebecca so far. Brick walls stood in sharp contrast to the white plastered walls in the front office and conference room. Framed posters and other tasteful decorations dotted the outside of the space, while multi-colored couches and low, casual tables furnished the interior. They had a sizable media center, filled with a rather large TV and the latest consoles, and a pool table. Two more doors stood closed on the right side of the room.

"Anyway, I spent most of the money on this room and the gym downstairs. I wanted to make this office a space where my team could hang out and improve their craft. All the titles and endorsements in the world wouldn't mean anything to me if the girls weren't enjoying themselves."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Doc," Julie interjected, skipping ahead to plop herself down on a plush turquoise chair. "I can't speak for the others, but I'm having plenty of fun. Aaand I expect to have even more once I get in that ring..." She had a dreamy look in her eyes for a moment as she imagined all the pretty ladies she'd get to roll around with soon. After a few moments, she shook herself out of her trance, motioning widely to all the other seating in the room. "Oh, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually. Come on, Beebs, have a seat. Let's get started!"

"Managing to grab some start-up capital is a big move for relatively fresh faces on the scene, especially all the way over here in Japan. It shows a great deal of promise in what you are building…" Rebecca hummed softly, tapping the back of her pen to her chin lightly. "... Or a degree of hustle. Either way, you have me curious. These investors of you, do they have any pull over what it is you are doing here? How the girls are booked, expectations of returned gains, obligated brand endorsements? Big business is many things but charitable is not one of them after all, unless tax write-offs are part of it."

"It shows." Rebecca slipped into the lounge less like a guest arriving for the first time and more like someone who belonged here. She had a certain confidence in the way she moved that projected a sort of entitlement that no place was really off-limits, despite whatever she might be told to the contrary. A few flips of pages in her pad, giving this room its own fresh start as she scribbled her thoughts and observations. She had been scrutinizing the choice of posters plastered about the room when she was called for. With a few flips back in her pad, she turned to flash Julie a bright smile, and a playful wink. "What makes you think we hadn't already started?"

The reporter navigated herself back to Julie, weaving around one of the tables to stop opposite the other woman at a cherry red couch. Rebecca plopped down lightly, scooting on her backside to sink into the cushions as her legs tucked up to sit cross-legged and cozy. A few more wiggles as she situated herself like a picky housecat before settling on what was just right. A flip of her pad page and she locked eyes with Julie.

"Ordinarily I would start by asking you about your career path, but you have had quite a public rise to where you are today. I am curious about some finer details in that regard… but we will get back to that. I was actually curious about how well you get on here with the other girls. While I am sure everyone on the team is very talented and driven, you have a reputation that came into AFW swinging. You could have easily landed here as a successful solo talent or with some bigger named representation backing you. What drew you to settling on Team Stanza?"