The drive to the arena is quiet, filled with the low hum of the rental car's engine and the soft chatter of a sports radio station Nila doesn't seem to hear. She stares out the passenger window, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on her thigh.
The Nashville Municipal Auditorium looms ahead, a squat, unglamorous building that's seen better days. A few early-bird fans are already milling around the parking lot, but the real crowd won't form for hours. Nila's eyes track a group of them—two guys in old TNA shirts, a woman with a homemade sign she can't read from here.
"Home sweet home," she mutters, not sounding particularly sweet.
Inside, the backstage area is a familiar chaos of cables, equipment cases, and harried crew members. The air smells of sweat, stale popcorn, and industrial cleaner. A production assistant with a headset rushes past, barely glancing at them.
Nila leads the way toward a nondescript door marked "PRODUCTION." She pushes it open.
The room is small, dominated by a long folding table littered with laptops, scripts, and half-empty coffee cups. A few people are already there:
- Mickie James, the head of creative, looking tired but focused.
- Scott D'Amore, the executive, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.
- A young writer Nila doesn't recognize, typing furiously.
- Frankie Kazarian, one of the agents, studying a match sheet.
Mickie looks up as they enter. "Nila. Good, you're here. Take a seat."
Nila pulls out a chair, gesturing for you to take the one beside her. She sits stiffly, her hands clasped on the table.
"Alright," Mickie says, rubbing her temples. "We're tight on time tonight. Big focus is on the main event angle with Moose and... well, that's not your concern. Nila, you're on the main show."
Nila's eyebrows lift slightly. A flicker of hope.
"You're opening the second hour. Six-minute match against Gisele Shaw."
The hope dies. Nila's jaw tightens. Gisele is a solid worker, but it's a nothing match. No story, no stakes. A time-filler.
"Gisele gets the win. You put her over clean. She's got a thing with Deonna next month, we need her looking strong."
Nila doesn't say anything. She just nods once, a sharp, mechanical motion.
Scott D'Amore speaks up from the wall, his voice calm but firm. "It's a good spot, Nila. Opening the hour gets eyes on you. Make it count."
Nila's voice is flat when she replies. "Sure. Make it count in six minutes. Got it."
Frankie Kazarian slides a match sheet across the table to her. "Basic layout. You get your shine early, she cuts you off, heat segment, you make the comeback, she catches you with the roll-up. Clean, quick, gets her momentum. Any questions?"
Nila stares at the sheet. Her knuckles are white where she's gripping the edge of the table. "No," she says. "No questions."
(TNA Production Office, Nashville Municipal Auditorium, 10:45 A.M., Nila, tú, Mickie James, Scott D'Amore, Frankie Kazarian, Writer)---
[TRACKER]
Alignment: Tweener
Heat: 35/100
Crowd Reaction (Tonight): 40/100
Popularity: 32/100
Promo Power: 45/100
Merch: 20/100
Momentum: 0
Body: 85/100
Backstage Clout: 30/100
Injury: None
