We open in the dimly lit backstage area of the Capitol One Arena in Washington, D.C.. and the door of Vickie Hall’s dressing room. Camera panning left, Ginny Van Lear shifts her weight nervously from one foot to the other, her fiery red hair cascading down her back like a crimson waterfall. A worn satchel hung low on her shoulder, its contents hidden within.
Ginny Van Lear (quietly): Reckon she ain’t gonna see this comin’.
Ginny presses her ear against the cool metal door of Vickie’s dressing room, listening intently for any signs of life.
Ginny Van Lear: Awright, coast’s clear.
A mischievous grin spreads across her face as she reaches into her satchel and pulls out a buck bomb. She reaches for the door handle…
Ginny Van Lear: Here goes nothin’.
…and just as Ginny’s fingers made contact with the cold metal handle, a large hand tapped her on the shoulder. The shock of the sudden touch sends a shiver down her spine, her heart leaping into her throat. She slowly turns her head, her fiery red hair whipping around to reveal her wide-eyed expression towards the PRIME Wrestling Security guard looming over her.
Ginny Van Lear: Aw shoot.
The security guard takes a firm grip on her arm.
Security Guard: This way, Miss Van Lear.
He leads her away from Vickie Hall’s dressing room.
Ginny Van Lear: Adam ain’t gonna be happy ’bout this.
She sighs as they continue down the corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the concrete walls.
We then cut to…