To Destroy the Monarchy
Prologue
The Diva sighed, looking around her hotel room with appreciation as she stepped into it. She had been with the WWE long enough not to expect a clean, sanitary room every time they rented out a hotel. The woman sighed softly, setting her suitcase and duffel bag down on the beige floor, nearly collapsing on top of the queen-sized bed. She recalled Eric Bischoff's words earlier that night. "It's my game now and I suggest you learn how to properly…satisfy your boss." Her blood boiled at his words. She had turned down his offer for her to sleep with him a while ago—didn't this man get a point? Actually, she was being quite generous calling him a man. Even the title Stone Cold Steve Austin had given Christian before he left—"CLB", or Creepy Little Bastard—seemed to fit Bischoff.
"I miss the old days," she muttered quietly, pulling off her sneakers and dumping them haphazardly near the bed. She sighed, stretching out on top of the covers. Her match had been pushed off of the list for tonight, thanks to her lovely new General Manager. 'Greasy-haired, beady-eyed bastard,' she corrected fiercely in her mind.
The old days, she supposed, were something all of the superstars seemed to miss. Then, there had been a commissioner, none of this General Manager bull. The commissioner had usually been fair—even ones like William Regal would be better than Eric Bischoff as GM of RAW! All of the so-called "nice guys" had been suffering in Eric's reign. And all of the Divas on RAW were expendable in his opinion, and to get in a decent match would require sleeping with him.
The woman sighed to herself, thinking of the days when she used to valet. There had been great times, mostly, but she would never trade her own wrestling career to go back to being a simple valet. Not that she was ever a simple one. 'I suppose that's the only reason I'm staying here, at RAW,' she thought to herself, yawning. 'If only Smackdown had a great women's roster and a title, I would've jumped there. Though, Paul Heyman runs it now, so I guess it'd be just as worthless.' Sighing, the woman stared at the blank ceiling, thinking of the wrestlers that she knew on the Smackdown roster. 'I really miss them…' But most of all, she missed Stephanie. Stephanie, her best friend, who had recently been fired and replaced by the slime Paul Heyman, had seemingly disappeared off of the face of the Earth. There was a mournful look on her face as she mentally recalled all of the wrestlers that she missed—Edge, Jeff, Kurt…
She was jarred out of her thoughts by the shrill ring of the telephone. The woman grabbed the phone off the cradle quickly. Who would have her hotel room number? "Hello?"
"Hey, it's Stephanie!"
"Stephanie! Oh my gosh! I haven't heard from you in forever! I've missed you so much!" the woman sat upright, smiling as she listened to her friend.
"Sorry about that, I've been looking into some things," the woman cocked her head, curious. Stephanie continued to speak, "I need your help."
"Doing what?"
"Destroying the WWE."