Butterfly.
Chapter One.
Just Be Yourself.
Disclaimer: I only own my own character and you know who'll that be since you won't recognise her. All performers belong to the respective owners.
Summary: "She's that wicked hippy chick." But to everyone else, she is Ada 'Butterfly.' Personal slave girl to the Creative Team. Is she capable of being in the WWE or will she stumble and fall?
Rating: M, for mature content, swearing, drug use and what have you.
A/N: Another story I've been thinking about. My muses have been set free once again!
She perched on top of the stacked boxes, her head lolled forward and her long dark eyelashes resting on her soft cheeks. The sounds of footsteps echoing past along with the owners' voice were unheard to the sleeping woman. Of course, she would deny that she was indeed asleep, but was merely resting ones eye. True to her nature, her eyes opened and she was exposed to the backstage world of World Wrestling Entertainment, somewhere she'd never dream of stepping foot into their business, much less actually being a member of their crazy, large family. Alas, times changed, she changed her mind and stayed with the company, although, she was only offered the contract a mere three days ago. Her job, interesting and slightly boring sounding was something else she'd never picture herself doing. Her job? Quite simply was to hand out the scripts to the performers, seeing that the Creative Team was so busy with writing and whatnot they couldn't do it on their own, so they hired their very own personal delivery girl. She laughed when Stephanie McMahon-Levesque told her what her job was and couldn't stop giggling afterwards.
Her personality was fascinating; she was blunt to the very point, quick to anger, somewhat humorous but overall, kind. Her appearance wasn't one many would appreciate or approve. Her hair long with dreadlocks, naturally a blonde now dyed a vicious red with the underlay of her hair purple. Her eyes a moody blue and her body usually covered in jewellery and the sort of "hippy" clothing, covering her random tattoos and an odd piercing or two. No, she wasn't the typical princess, or the punk rock girl, as Trish Stratigias and Amy Dumas already had validated those titles. She, have being dubbed by her many friends, "that wicked butterfly hippy chick."
Laughing at the obscure memory of being called that the very first time in her community high school, she slipped off the boxes and fell on to the floor, scraping her back. Rolling her eyes heavenly, she picked herself up and kicked outwards at the boxes, blaming them for her memory.
Snickering was heard from behind and she glanced around, not finding anyone she shrugged. 'Probably imagined it.' She looked right and then left, unsure in which direction she could go.
"Left is to catering. Right is to the locker rooms and random offices and I am the one and only, Legend Killer, Randy Orton." The voice spoke and she looked at him, her thin eyebrow raised in a mastered curve.
"Congratulations, you know your way around Randy." Emphasising his first name.
He smile was what most girls would swoon at his feet with as he sauntered over to her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.
"And you are?"
"Not interested." Slipping her hand back from his grasp she walked to the right, when his arm came down at her front, blocking her path, she stopped.
"That's harsh. Seriously, what's your name?" He asked.
"If I told you, would you leave me alone?"
Randy nodded and lowered his arm back to his side.
"It's Rowena McFizzle," she smiled and continued walking, once out of earshot, she hit the wall and laughed hysterically. Wiping the unfallen tears from her eyes and muttering words about gullibility and people she pushed from the wall and headed in the direction of where the most voices were heard.
"Yeah, there's this new girl here, not that hot though, she's a bit freaky."
"How so?" Laughter.
"Dread locks. Explains everything."
More laughter.
"Find out her name?"
"Yeah, it's really weird though. Not like, freaky weird, more like, funny ha-ha weird."
"And?"
"Rowena McFizzle."
"Randy, stop lying!" A female squeaked.
"I'm not! It's what she told me!"
"Bullshit."
"Nope, go find her and ask her yourself."
"What does she do?"
"I dunno. Didn't have the time to ask."
"More like she ran for it."
"Shut up."
She stood at the entrance of the locker room, the door wide open so the whole world could hear what they were saying. Her arms were folded over her chest, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. She was quiet, moving like a mouse, she sat down on one of the benches that were unoccupied, her legs crossed underneath her, her hair falling over her left shoulder and ending at the belly button, giving her the peacefully-at-home-meditating look.
"So anyway," the talking continued. "Like I said, she's a bit freaky. We should place a bet who'd score with her first."
More laughter. 'Oh, this is getting good.' She thought, amused by their antics and not the least bit offended.
"I'm in. How much?"
"Fifty dollars."
"I believe I'm worth a lot more with that, considering with the hundreds of thousands you lot earn, you'd think you could afford a bet without being a cheapskate about it, no?"
People turned, faces grew red and an awkward silence broke out. She laughed and eyed each of them in turn. A tall man at the end was just as silent as her; she looked at him the longest and he smiled.
"Hi." She waved at him and looked at the rest of them standing in front of her, embarrassed.
"Before you all ask, let's make a few things clear. My name is not Rowena McFizzle, that was my dead fish' name back when I was a kid. I'm Ada Gomez, which I personally think is one of the best names someone could be blessed with. I'm currently thirty-two, I'm single, I drink, I enjoy long walks along the beach with that special someone, reading, meditating, dancing and the occasional rave. Oh, and I've been here for three days, and I'm the personal delivery girl for the Creative Team. So, expect to see me more often. And, that's it. Now, who are you?"
"You don't know who we are?" Someone from the back spoke up.
"Should I? I've never watched this show in my life, I don't own a television." Ada smiled again, 'that's right Butterfly, keep it light and happy.'
The person from the back squeezed himself in front and held out his hand. "TV's are overrated but I still own one, I'm Jeff Hardy."
"Nice to meet you."
He nodded and grinned, sitting down beside her and touching one of her dreadlocks. "I like the colours, suits you."
"Leave it to Hardy to be dandy with the Freak Girl." Someone whispered.
"Keep it to yourself Copeland." Ada looked up to see the tall man who smiled at her earlier glare at another.
"Er, right. My bad."
The tall man looked at her, "I'm Glen or Kane, whichever you prefer."
She nodded and looked at everyone else, waiting to introduce themselves.
"Let me help, since none of them will speak up or they're to stupid to communicate," Jeff pointed at random people. "That's Amy or Lita, that next to her is Adam slash Edge, John Cena is the one holding the belt, the ones with DX on their shirts is Paul and Michael AKA Triple H or Shawn Michaels, Melina is the one in the mini skirt, her boyfriend is Jonathan or Johnny Nitro that's him behind her, and the girl in the long satin robe or whatever is Candice and you know Randy. And, yeah, that's everyone in here. Everyone else is wherever."
Ada glanced at Jeff then back at everyone else. "Okay, well… Hello!" She waved and stood up, "It's nice to meet you all, but I guess I should go and do something useful."
"The show has ended." Melina, the one in the mini skirt spoke up.
"It did?"
"Yeah, like half an hour ago, we're getting ready to leave but, don't worry about it. I don't think you were needed tonight otherwise Stephanie or someone would have your head by now."
Ada laughed nervously and bit back a gulp, she totally slept through the entire show!
"You okay?" Glen asked.
She hadn't notice that everyone left the room beside him and Jeff.
"Of course!"
"I know that look, I get that when I did something I wasn't supposed to." Jeff poked her side and she smiled at him.
"I slept through the show." She admitted quietly, looking at the door, her cheeks tinted a shade of red.
Jeff and Glen chuckled.
"Don't worry about it Ada, it's bound to happen sooner or later, you just opted for the former." Glen picked up a duffel bag, presumably his own and headed for the door.
"Just go to your hotel room, call Stephanie and tell her what happened, the quicker you tell her the less likely she'll be angry." He advised, before exiting the room.
"Glen's right. I've only been back here for a month or so, and I've only had to do that once because I was stuck in traffic."
"Sure. I use the traffic excuse too."
"It's the truth." Jeff said defensively and Ada stepped back.
"I know."
Ada walked to the door and looked back at Jeff, her face a mould of shy and discomfiture.
"Uh, I know this is kind of forward, but I was wondering if I could share a ride with you back to the hotel. I don't own a car."
"And, here I was thinking you wanted to sleep with me."
A/N: Tell me what you think! Reviews would be much appreciated if I should or shouldn't continue. And, whom would you like Ada to be paired with? But, please… not John Cena or Randy Orton, I dislike them both- (it doesn't have to be anyone either, so you know. It's up to you Readers!)
Thanks everyone and here's to a happy Chapter One going on Chapter two…maybe.
