What If?

A WWE fanfic

Author's Note: I do not own WWE, it wrestlers or anything else under it's name. I only own the situations involved in this series. That being said, enjoy!

Ch.1 Trish Stratus joins Right To Censor Pt.1

April 23, 2001

Trish Stratus stood apprehensively behind the curtain, waiting for her theme music to play. At Wrestlemania, she had repaid Satan personified, Mr. Mcmahon for months of degredation. She knew she'd pay for it, but she never thought it would happen this quickly. It was probably just bad luck that she crossed paths with him backstage just moments ago. She had only come to RAW to promote the latest Diva's release. All she had expected was a quick interview with Coach and she'd be done. Fate, it seems, had other ideas.

The stakes couldn't possibly get higher in the match she was about to participate in. She'd done her interview and was heading toward the arena exit when she came face to face with Vince Mcmahon. He was understandably in a bad mood, what with his son beating him at Wrestlemania, thanks in part due to her. The moment their eyes met, she knew she was in for it. "What are you doing here?" he'd angrily demanded. She studdered as she held the video cassette for the Diva's video she was promoting, but Vince had none of it. "Well, you know something Trish?" Vice asked calmly. He didn't wait for her to answer. "Since you always stand on the side of right, and you're Miss Goody-Two Shoes right now, I happen to know something you do very well and I'm gonna suggest that you go do it right now, and that's take your clothes off."

Trish was too stunned to reply. Was he suggesting she disrobe again? He couldn't be. Her mind flashed back several weeks, and she shuddered at the thought. "What?" she asked, when she finally found her voice. "What are you talking about?" Somehow, she knew she didn't want to hear the answer. Vince clasped his hands together. He had a glint in his eye that Trish didn't like. "What I mean is, Trish, is that tonight, we're going to have a match, in that very ring. You go one on one with RTC's Ivory." Trish felt her stomach drop. Ivory? She'd get dismantled if she faced her. Trish was not a grappler. Ivory was. It was a mismatch if there ever was one.

"And guess what, Trish?" Vince asked with a grin. Trish's eyes widened. "If you lose the match, you're gonna be the newest member of RTC. Nice to see you again, Trish." Mercifully, he left after that. She couldn't think about it anymore though, as her music sounded throughout the Pepsi Center. She steeled herself as she walked down to the ring. She was determined to not let Vince break her anymore. Last night had been a statement. Here was the follow up.

Lillian Garcia couldn't believe the stipulation of this match, but she did her job as professionally as ever. "Ladies and gentlemen, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, Trish Stratus!" The crowd cheered in response. It was clear Trish was a fan favorite. Trish looked at Lillian nervously as she entered the ring. Lillian was sympathetic, but had a job to do. She took a deep breath as she faced the entrance ramp. This was the moment she was dreading.

Sure enough, the smoke detector noise that was Right to Censor's theme music began to sound in the arena. Ivory was the face of confidence as she walked to the ring. She raised her hand as though she'd already won, earning the scorn of the crowd. After their horrible showing at Wrestlemania, this would be cake walk. "And her opponent, Right to Censor member, Ivory!" Lillian called before making her looked at the black and white ensemble Ivory wore, and it was almost like a glimse into the future.

"You're mine," Ivory mouthed as she got into the ring. Trish maintained a brave face. The moment the bell rang, Ivory oppened with a drop toe hold. Trish clutched her jaw in pain, leaving her open to a suplex and a scoop slam. The pain wracked her body, but she knew she had to fight through it. She tried to capitalize when Ivory paused to gloat, but her much more experienced opponent ducked her clothesline attempt and followed up with a facebuster. "Ivory is just dominating Trish Stratus here," Jim Ross said on commentary. "It must make Mr. Mcmahon happy." His colleague, Paul Heyman was thoroughly enjoying the match at hand.

"I'm not so concerned about Mr. Mcmahon watching, I'm looking forward to how Trish is gonna look in the new RTC uniform," he replied smugly. Back in the ring, Trish was reeling from a second suplex, and Ivory took advantage by hitting another scoop slam. She followed up with a pin attempt. Desperate to not be in RTC, Trish kicked out at one. Before Ivory could regain the initiative, she was forced into the corner by Trish. Not wanting to waste what could be the only opportunity she'd have to win, Trish followed with a series of shoulder blocks to Ivory's midsection.

When the ref ordered her to break the hold, she whipped Ivory into the opposite corner and followed with a hip toss when Ivory came out. Ivory turned to charge her, but Trish countered with an arm drag, then a scoop slam of her own. Ivory was beginning to realize that maybe she shouldn't mess around. Trish went for the pin, but Ivory kicked out at two. She tried to whip Ivory into the corner again, but as she charged, Ivory dodged and caught her coming in with a clothesline.

"WHAM!" Paul Heyman exclaimed. "Break out the new RTC uniform for Trish. We get to cover her up, no more cleavage." Ivory took advantage with a sit down Death Valley Driver. Pain shot through Trish's back. This was it. Ivory sensed it too. She went for the pin. "One, Two," the ref counted. Trish tried to get her shoulders up, but Ivory covered her in a way that maximized her body weight. "Three!" Jim Ross could not believe what just happened. Ivory took her leave as Trish sat up in disbelief. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are looking at RTC's newest member," Heyman shouted. Lillian Garcia hesitated before announcing, "Here is your winner, Ivory!"

The crowd was divided as Trish made the slow trek up the entrance ramp to the backstage area. They didn't know weather to cheer or boo. As Trish went behind the curtain, her new stable mates stood waiting. Steven Richards held up a white dress shirt, while Bull Buchanan held the full length black skirt that Ivory wore to the ring. Ivory herself held in her hands a similar bow tie to the one she was wearing. Trish bit her lip. The coming weeks were sure to be miserable.