November 19th, 2013.

"I've said it once and I'll say it again. These are some great shots, Ryan. You're starting to make the other shutter bugs jealous with how much of your work we end up using."

"I try."

"Making them jealous, or getting the best shots?"

"Both."

The straightforward and honest answer elicited a small laugh from WWE's Photo Director, Christine Reilly, "You're not secretly aiming for my job, are you?"

"God no, I like it just fine where I am, thank you. You're about as high up the food chain that I'm willing to be responsible answering to."

Christine ran an experienced eye over several shots from the last Raw event; a tag match between The Shield, Cody Rhodes and Goldust, another between Kofi Kingston and The Miz, the Divas, the main event of Orton and Bryan, and lastly the man whom she suspected was fast becoming Ryan's favourite subject to capture through the lens; Antonio Cesaro. This wasn't to say her other work was sub-par in comparison, far from it, but there always seemed to be just that little something more whenever the Swiss was caught in the photographic cross-hairs.

"Anything else you need, Chris?"

The director was broken out of her musings as she bought her attention back to the freelancer. There was actually, those above her in the corporate food chain were insisting that she hire Ryan Monroe on a full time basis. It was easier said than done, however, and Christine thought she might have an easier time herding cats.

"Indeed there is," she answered, "I want to give you a job."

"Already? I thought you had your freelancers set for the next few weeks at least."

"Not as a casual," Chris clarified, "Full time. Exclusive to the WWE."

She watched intently as Ryan's face twisted into something reflecting major reluctance; it was pretty much the response she had guessed on. It wasn't just that Ryan liked having complete control over which jobs she threw her name in for, and usually got, but it was more the aspect of anonymity. The photojournalist had blending into the background down to an art form despite being mere feet from the action, and if you were to ask anyone -whether it be crew, talent or production- most would be hard pressed to put a face to the name. It was about as close to being invisible as a person could get and for whatever reason it was the way she preferred it.

"Come on, Ryan, how long have we known each other?" A small, somewhat devious smile crept over her face as she picked up a print of Cesaro having just launched Zack Ryder high into the air and ready to connect with his signature European Uppercut, "I'll make sure you can work all of his matches... and his photo shoots."

There it was, not quite as prominent as she had hoped but there was a glimmer of interest lurking in those eyes.

"Come on, you do so much work for us already. Why not take all the benefits that come with it?"

"Will I get 401K?"

"Yes."

"What about travel expenses?"

Christine began to answer what turned out to be a thorough questioning of just about every aspect Monroe's potential job would entail, both from what was expected of her and what she could expect from the company in return. After about an hour Ryan sat in a chair on the opposite side of the large desk in contemplation for several minutes and Chris could almost imagine the sound of mental gears turning.

"Alright, but I want one thing," she paused a moment, wondering if the stipulation might be going to far, "The photos are still my property to use as I see fit whether I'm working under the company banner or not."

That was kind of ballsy, Monroe was taking a calculated gamble and they both knew it. The WWE got a little cagey over things like that; corporate paranoia at its finest.

"I'm going to have to look into the ownership issue before I can commit," Reilly answered, relieved to see that this didn't look like it was going to be a problem with the photographer.

"Fair enough. Get back to me when you can." She stood up from her seat and reached over the table for a quick handshake, "In the mean time I have a few muscle cars and body builders to shoot."

December 2nd, 2013.

Claudio Castagnoli, better known to the Universe as Antonio Cesaro, sat way up in the cheap seats watching the centre of the arena below. He liked it up here, he could usually get a bit of time to himself for some peace and quiet and it never failed to give him perspective as the people down below looked like they were barely bigger than ants as they moved around, the teams of crew members putting the stage for the Superstars to perform on together. He could imagine what it would be like for a fan, so far away from the action that you could barely see anything unless you watched that monolithic screen but still be seized by the excitement one could only get by attending a live event, whether it be a house show, a live Raw broadcast or Smackdown taping.

His musings were interrupted by the soft click of a button and he turned to his left, finding a woman with a camera standing barely ten feet away at the top of the stares, her attention focused on the happenings below as his had been. She seemed to be oblivious to his presence as she took a few more shots, occasionally fiddling around with the settings on the Nikkon, before she was satisfied.

"Quite the view, isn't it?"

He couldn't help the small grin as the woman jumped at his sudden question. He thought she had just been pretending not to notice him for the sake of not interrupting his quiet time but apparently this was not the case.

"I guess you could say that," she replied after quickly regaining her composure, "Though you'd practically need the Hubble telescope to see what's actually going on down there."

He was mildly intrigued at the sound of an accent while his eyes darted down to the plastic ID card that dangled from the end of a lanyard embossed with the company logo all over it to find her name; Ryan Monroe. Different. He had heard that name before, he was sure of it, then it clicked.

"You're the new photographer they hired, aren't you?"

What gave it away?" she asked with a slight edge of playful sarcasm while holding up the camera, but the small smile took any malice out of the statement, "News travels fast around here."

He shrugged, "Need to fill in the down time somehow, so gossip usually becomes a popular pastime."

The conversation was interrupted by the small radio clipped to the back of her belt, one of the rigging crews needing some help with setting up the TV lights. After telling them she'd be down there in a couple of minutes she turned back to the wrestler, "I better get moving, no rest for the wicked."

He smirked, for some reason the seemingly innocent phrase took his mind into the gutter, "And just how wicked could you possibly be, Miss Monroe?"

"That's something for me to know, Mister Castagnoli."

Catching his expression through the lens and quickly snapping a picture, she turned and left before he could say anything else. He watched her until she disappeared, decidedly enjoying the small few minutes with the new photographer. And she hadn't mangled the pronunciation of his last name! She was kind of cute too and apparently had no issues with flirting. The idea that such a seemingly innocent looking woman could be anything but had his imagination not just falling in the gutter, but thoroughly rolling around in it. He couldn't help it, try as he might.

Perhaps I might have to find out...

January 7th, 2014.

The weeks passed faster than she thought they would, Ryan finding herself wearing a few other hats in addition to the one of photographer. It was both challenging but fun, especially when she got to climb all over the trusses to assist in adjusting the lights. The task called to her love of heights; the higher she could get the happier she was. While her ability to blend in to the background had remained largely intact for the first fortnight or so it seemed as if she had inadvertently put herself on Claudio's radar after their first meeting. It wasn't a bad thing; he was very charming and sweet, plus there was no way that Ryan would lie to herself by saying he wasn't easy on the eyes, but at the same time the unexpected attention was a little... weird. Old and persistent hang-ups were hard to shake, apparently.

"How long are you intending to hang around up there? You never wear a skirt, so it's kind of disappointing."

Of course where one started showing an interest others were sure to follow, such was the case with one of the two of the men standing below. It kind of weirded her out even more, though she was good at shielding such things behind well worn armour comprised of dry, slightly twisted humour and and edge of sarcasm. She knew she didn't look like she had been beaten with a bag of bricks, but compared to the sort of women these guys could pull without even trying... why would they waste their time?

Don't go there...

His friend half heartedly punched his arm for the crass comment to which he received one in return and they started going back and forth, carrying on like a pair over-active ten year olds as Ryan clambered down the framework.

"About time you got your ass back down here."

"And deny myself your... unique company, Jon? Heaven forbid that ever happens."

"I know, I know, you'd be absolutely heart broken. Happens to all the ladies."

"Modest, aren't we?" She turned her attention to the second man, gesturing with her thumb at the US Champion, "How in the hell do you put up with that on an almost full time basis, Colby?"

"It helps that I don't lack a penis for a start, curbs his enthusiasm somewhat," he replied with a grin, laughing a little when she rolled her eyes.

"Right, I'll grab my cameras so we can get this shoot done and Good can go back to harassing the Divas."

"Come on, don't act that you don't like it," Jon said as he suddenly put her in a mock sleeper hold, feeling the slight tensing of her frame as he pulled her back firmly against his chest. He'd done this a couple of times by now while they horsed around but never failed to get that subtle but anxious response. Not that it dissuaded him from touching her somehow, for some reason he got a kick out the reaction. He idly wondered what the cause of it was, but at the same time was curious with how far he could push his luck. Leaning in he spoke softly into her ear so Lopez couldn't overhear, "Maybe you should spend the next free weekend in Vegas with me. I promise you won't be so nervous by the end of it."

She managed to turn her head and look at him, if he had rattled her cage she was doing a good job of hiding it.

"Can you hear that?"

Jon looked around a little, slightly confused at what he was supposed to be listening to, "Hear what?"

"The cry of a million fan girls screaming jealously in unison," she answered, "Now get your meaty paws off me so I can get my gear."

"Nope, we're just gonna have to walk around like this for the rest of the day."

With a resigned sigh Ryan began the slightly awkward trek to retrieve her cameras with a two hundred and twenty-five pound man hanging around her neck who simply smirked at whoever they passed and gave the pair a somewhat odd look. Why he had this fascination with putting her into some weird mock wrestling hold all the time was beyond her. Maybe it was because she wasn't part of the 'talent' and he could thus get away with it, even if she were to suddenly become a thin skinned bitch and lodge a complaint about some form of harassment. In the end she mentally shrugged; she'd put up with it so long as he didn't actually start getting touchy feely, Ryan was unsure if she would be able to handle that without doing a spot on impersonation of a lamp post.

"You're an arse-hat."

"It's ass-hat, Honey. Try and get the pronunciation right."

"Ass-hat? So you're a hat for a mule? How does that even work?"

"Well how does a hat for an arse work?"

Ryan didn't have an answer for that and merely glanced over at Colby, who looked like he was entirely too amused by this bizarre scene, "Will you please get him off me?"

"I don't know," he replied slowly, sounding like it would be a cold hearted thing to do while tilting his head to one side, "It is strangely adorable."

"Ugh, you're both ass-hats. Next time I'm palming this job off to Eric. Maybe I can trade him you guys for the Usos, at least those boys have manners."

"And after I decided to be nice and get your gear for you? That hurts."

The third and final member of The Shield showed up, carrying a large black bag under his arm. Joe Anoa'i put the bag down on a nearby equipment trunk and opened it up, taking out the first camera he saw with a grin. An extra two hundred odd pounds or not, Ryan all but dragged Jon along as she made a grab for the lens, messing up the intentioned shot as the sound effect for the shutter went off. It surprised the three men and Jon slowly let her go; he could have sworn her relief at being released almost seemed palpable. Ryan quickly deleted the lopsided shot, the majority of it being her outstretched hand with fingers splayed, then double checked the settings. Satisfied she zipped up the bag and slung the strap over her shoulder before marching down the hall to where she was supposed to take the first round of shots of the boys. Colby shared a confused look with the other two, voicing the question that all three of them were thinking.

"What the hell was that all about?"