@thr0whands liked for a raw starter.
The hallway was buzzing—camera crews, staff darting around with headsets, someone shouting for medics three doors down. Rhea didn’t care. Her fists were still wrapped, shoulders still burning from the war she’d just walked out of, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth that wouldn’t quit. She’d done it. She was going to Money in the Bank. And then she spotted her—small frame, still sweaty, still hyped, dark hair pulled back, MITB logo practically glowing behind her on the screen in catering. Rhea’s smile only grew as she approached, that signature swagger in her step. The kid looked good. Fired up. Like she belonged. “Look at you,” Rhea said, voice low and rough with pride. “Kicked the door down, huh?”
“I saw your match. You earned every second of that win. That fire you’ve got? That’s the kind that keeps people up at night.” She stepped back just enough to really look at her—this younger, hungrier version of who she used to be. It was like watching her own past flicker in front of her, only Roxanne carried it with a softer edge. “But don’t get too comfortable, yeah?” she added, smirking. “You’re in the deep end now, and I bite.”
