The Great Diva Sabotage

Genre: Humor
Rating: T-13
Summary: Another year, another Diva Search, and WWE gains more eye candy than merit. Well one diva has frankly had enough and enlists the help of a fan to aid her. T-13 for humor and language.

Disclaimer: I do not want to own Christy, Maria and Candace, I do not want to own the wannabe divas. I do not want to own the Diva Search, its tasteless premise and filthy course. I do not want to own WWE, for its current state does not appeal to me. All of the superstars mentioned belong to themselves respectively, except Jericho, Rene half of the World Tag champs who belong to me. And now I must cease to rhyme, because... well, because frankly it's a pain in the ass.

I can't be the only one who hates current shambles that is the Women's division. Sure I hate a lot of things in the state of WWE programming nowadays; Hassan and Daivari's gimmicks, the underappreciation of the cruiserweights, the Edge/Lita angle and the subsequent belittling of Matt Hardy, but as a woman the lack of strong female roles is what I feel most strongly about. I might not be able to do anything about it directly, but a lot of my rage has gone into this story. Don't worry, it's not all half-crazed rantings of a pissed-off chick, there's a definite plot and hopefully a lot of laughs. I don't plan to make this very long, just three or four parts at the very most.

Date Uploaded: 22 June 2005

Part 01 - The Plan

Victoria stared long and hard at the poster. It was straightforward enough; $250 000 and a guaranteed RAW contract would go to the winner of the latest Diva Search. She scowled.

So that was what it took to become a WWE Diva nowadays? Shaking your ass and degrading yourself in skimpy outfits for the benefit of horny fanboys? Giggling as cutely as you could into a microphone? Pretending you can wrestle in worthless lingerie pillow fight matches?

Victoria continued seething at the flyer posted on the wall in front of her. Great, more bimbos. As if Christy Hemme and her sickeningly upbeat girl scouts in tiny skirts weren't bad enough.

The women's division had become a farce due to these Diva Searches. Victoria had stood by as one by one all the talented female wrestlers had been picked off; Jacqueline, Jazz, Gail Kim and Molly to name a few. All who had strived through years of training to be able to do what they did in the ring. Every single one of them passed over for Candace whatsername and Maria whosiewhatsits in bikini competitions.

In a fit of fury Victoria grabbed one end of the poster and ripped it clear off. She was about to tear it to little bits and toss them away like confetti when she stopped.

Was she really going to stand by again? Trish was out of the picture with an injury and the bitch had taken the Women's Title with her. Lita seemed too busy swapping spit with Edge in disgusting show segments. That left only her.

Oh no, she didn't go through tables, bruise her ribs and get socked in the face over and over again just to see her career go down the drain due to a bunch of floozies who would willingly strip for an audience. Victoria stuffed the ruined poster in her pocket and stalked off, a plan already beginning to form in her mind.

»»»

People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. It wasn't too healthy to be chucking fruit either, and right now Pyper and O-Gee were staring at the large hole in one of the floor to ceiling windows of the pad. Outside on the ground was a rather splattered honeydew.

"Damn," Pyper said for about the fifth time since she had peered out the window. "Imagine what would have happened if you had brought Azzie watermelons."

"I was about to, but honeydews were on sale," O-Gee replied, still a little stunned.

Azrael herself was in the background, noisily arguing with a repairman on her cellular phone. "… Yes, a honeydew. No, it's green and about the size of a melon… what does it matter what the hell kind of fruit it was anyway? What I need to know is how soon can you send someone over to fix it…"

It was at that point that the landline started ringing. O-Gee walked over to the kitchen counter and answered it. "Hello?"

"I'd like to talk to Azrael, please," the calm, low voice on the other end said.

O-Gee looked to where Azrael was still on her mobile, making lethal jabbing motions in the air as she continued to heckle the repairman. "She's… a little busy right now."

"It's urgent; I really need her to come to the phone."

Suddenly there was a horrendous crash and both O-Gee and Azrael swiveled around to the window. Pyper stood there, looking both startled and sheepish, a finger held to where glass used to be. Apparently she had tested the shattered remains of the window and it had now collapsed fully, leaving nothing but a hole and a large draft. "Whoops."

"PYPER!" Azrael roared. She unthinkingly reached for another honeydew and Pyper squealed, knowing it was time to make herself scarce. Pyper raced out of the room just as the fruit was hurtled at her, missing her by inches and instead hitting a table lamp.

"Azzie, you know that's how this whole thing started!" O-Gee said to her older sister in a mildly accusing voice.

"Well if your sister just hadn't decided that she would send Randy Orton get well flowers every hour on the hour on MY expense account that blatantly displays MY name on it, then I probably wouldn't have resorted to trying to decapitate her with fruit!"

"Was that it? I thought it was because you found out she fixed Rene Dupree up on a date with Jenna Jameson."

This was obviously not the brightest thing to say as a second later another honeydew crashed through another glass wall, this time narrowly missing O-Gee, who had had the good sense to duck, by a hair. The ten-year-old shrieked and made a break for it, dropping the landline onto the floor.

Azrael groaned as she surveyed the mess. Trust her sisters to bring ammo when they broke bad news to her. She spoke sharply into the mobile again. "Your workload just doubled. I'll expect you here in an hour," and with that she ended the call.

She stepped around the counter and caught sight of the landline among the broken glass. She went over to pick it up, shaking it thoroughly to make sure no shards were left on it, and heard an indignant voice squawking on the other end. "Hello?"

"… Is going on over there? I call at a perfectly respectable time of day and you're apparently in the middle of guerrilla warfare! Uh, Azrael? This is you now, isn't it?"

"Yes. Listen, whoever you are, a bunch of things have come up that I have to rectify. Maybe we can continue this conversation some other time? I think I may be free tomorrow at four," Azrael said, going over to right the table lamp and having no intention of being accessible at the given time.

"You won't be and we both know it. This is Victoria."

Azrael blinked in surprise and settled onto the couch. "Well that changes things; I'm free right now. So what can I do for my favorite WWE Diva?"

"Considering whatever's left of the female roster, being your favorite doesn't stand for much," Victoria answered with unusual wrath.

"Well somebody sounds upset. But then again if I had to go through an angle wherein I have to get beaten down by Christy Hemme I'd be spitting bile too."

"Yeah, well I'm fed up with it. Just a year ago we had a healthy female roster and the Women's Championship was a coveted title. Now we have three serious competitors, of which I am currently the only one left standing, and the title is a joke. And I know that as a woman you're as pissed off with the situation as I am."

"I won't deny that," Azrael said with a frown. And then she smiled. "Wait a minute. You sound like a chick with a plan."

"You're damn right, and a pretty good one at that. And I didn't call you just to share. I'm expecting help. A lot of it."

"Victoria, you know I'd back you up in anything, but I do have a life too. And right now it entails fixing up broken windows, momentarily canceling my credit cards, hunting down my unwilling French stud…"

"Choose not to take part in this and Christy Hemme will be wearing the Women's Title in two and a half weeks."

"I'm in. Now tell me what you've got in store."

»»»

Seeing as Azrael and her two misfit sidekicks Pyper and O-Gee would be conspicuous sneaking around backstage, Victoria had to bring in a few others into the idea. Sure she could include some of the men, but that was far too risky in her opinion. She definitely wasn't going to traipse over to Stacy Kiebler for help either. But she came up with a solution soon enough.

Alexis Laree and Angel Williams were OVW talent, all brilliant and promising yet were not about to get called up to the main roster anytime soon. Despite initially unsure about the idea, more so because Victoria was pitching it, they soon realized that it would largely benefit them too.

"And besides, even if it falls through, we'll finally get some air time," Alexis said with a grin.

"Don't be so fatalistic," Azrael reproved. "That's my job."

They were in Azrael's pad the very next day. Fortunately the repairmen had come over yesterday and had fixed up both windows, and Azrael had put both Pyper and O-Gee to work vacuuming the place while she had run out to do some errands. Now the six of them, minus O-Gee who was asleep in Azrael's bed, were sitting down to discuss the operation proper.

"Basically this set up has two parts," Victoria began. "First is to curb the already rampant outbreak of useless Divas on the roster. Now technically I can handle Christy," she said forcefully, as if trying to pretend the disastrous inter-gender match of two RAWs ago had not happened. "But it's not just about handling them. It's about showing them that women, at least in the RAW brand, are not all about decoration.

"And so we, Alexis, Angel, and I, of course, challenge them. Call them out. Make it a full-fledged war if we have to. They can either attempt to wrestle us or finally realize that they're in over their heads," Victoria grinned. "Even if we have to beat it into them."

"I have nothing against that plan, but there's one little problem," Angel spoke up. "Eric Bischoff and the RAW creative team. They haven't given us women a break all year and I doubt they'll agree to this 'uprising' of ours, so to speak."

"That's true," Alexis agreed. "They'll veto our plans if we propose it to them and probably fine or suspend us if we go through with it without their prior consent."

"That's why we're going over them," Victoria said.

"I have a few names in my rolodex that hold considerable weight," Azrael said. "Stephanie McMahon is one of them," she held up her hand when Angel looked skeptical while Alexis opened her mouth to protest. "I know she's been less than reliable in the past, but I'm going to make her 'see the light' one way or the other. And if that doesn't work I'll move even further up to Linda. Somehow they have to acknowledge the demeaning role their female roster has sunk to."

"Once we get the go-ahead we spring this part of the plan into action," Victoria said.

"And so what's part two?" Alexis asked.

"Further prevention," Victoria answered. "Of course the next RAW Diva Search is coming up."

There were groans and mutters all around. Azrael went up to get some refreshments while Victoria continued. "I know, my sentiments exactly. But we've got that area covered as well. This is where Pyper and O-Gee come to play."

All throughout the meeting Pyper had been silent, and the reason for this became obvious when they turned to see busy following dust specks with her eyes. "I thought I got them all," she murmured in a resigned fashion. "But there's so many of them…"

"Uh, Pyper?" Angel asked cautiously, waving a hand before her eyes.

Pyper blinked and snapped to attention. "Huh, what? Oh right, the mission," she reached over to her side and lifted a bunch of file folders to the coffee table, spilling them out on top. "Here so far are the contestants still in running for the Diva Search. What O-Gee and I are going to do, while not in the most scientific of terms, is to freak the hell out of them. Get them to pull out of the competition themselves."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" Angel inquired, curious.

"By employing fan boys, lechers and stalkers to bug them day in and day out," Pyper said brightly, obviously in her element. "A few days of being harassed, followed and obsessed over should make them at least think twice about going through with this whole shit."

"But you've been doing that to Chris Jericho for years now and he hasn't caved," Alexis pointed out.

"Ah, but that's because my Chrissie is made of much stronger mettle than that," Pyper said, sighing fondly. "Which reminds me, I have to replace the camera he found and thrashed in his car again."

"Don't ask, just don't ask," Azrael groaned, sitting back down with glasses and a bottle of Dom Perignon.

Angel had been looking through the files and occasionally smirking, rolling her eyes or looking disgusted. "I see you have a dedicated, er, 'follower' for each lady already. Where did you get these guys?"

"Pyper's directory is full of them," Victoria said with a laugh. "The best part is that they agreed to do it for nothing."

"I'd expect a lot of naughty pictures to surface on E-Bay, though," Pyper said.

"And what if the drooling fan boys don't work?" Angel asked, continuing to look skeptical. "What then?"

Pyper's eyes got an evil glint in them as she grinned. "Then Azzie and I will personally step in. And we can be, um, quite persuasive," she folded her hands across her stomach and settled back into her chair contentedly, like a Don pleased with his decision.

"Well, like I said, if this can salvage me any part of an on-air career then I'm willing to go for it," Alexis said, sitting back as well.

"So we're all in?" Victoria inquired, looking around.

Pyper beamed at her, Alexis gave her a thumbs up and Angel nodded with a smile and a wink. "That settles it then," Azrael said, picking up the bottle. She popped the cork and it immediately sailed past Pyper's head and right into one of the new windows. It hit the glass and cracked it, falling back down to the floor.

All the girls looked at the window, Pyper giving a small sigh of relief. Of course at the next moment the crack spread and the glass once again shattered, raining shards down to the carpet.

"Oh for fuck's sake, not again!" Azrael wailed.

»»»

Being the director of the creative department and, of course, daddy's little girl had its perks. One of them was lying in a hammock outside a lavish vacation hut on the shores of Coyaba beach in Jamaica. Stephanie McMahon sipped her daiquiri and closed her eyes underneath the cool shade of the trees. A month was too short for these kinds of holidays. Next time she would make it two.

The door to the hut slid open and a voice called out. "Jesus, Steph, did you clean out the bar or did management just forget to restock? I was lucky to fix myself a G&T."

Stephanie's response to that was the spray her strawberry flavored drink out in surprise. She turned to see Azrael walking over, looking hot and bothered even in ankle pants and a tank top. "What the hell are you doing here?" Stephanie demanded, pushing herself up on the hammock.

Azrael took a seat on out of the outdoor lounges and sipped her drink. "Why else would I look for you in such a far off place as Jamaica if I didn't have business with you?"

Stephanie scowled at her. "I'm on vacation."

"I can see that. Frankly I'm surprised it hasn't been permanent."

"Listen, I explicitly stated to everyone who knew where I would be going that I was NOT to be disturbed."

"People are notoriously easy to buy off, Steph, you ought to know that."

"I've been meaning to ask where the hell you get your funds from, considering you don't seem to have any tangible financial support."

"None that can be traced on paper, dear," Azrael said nonchalantly, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Now, are you ready to talk business or would you like another daiquiri first?"

Stephanie looked to where the pink liquid dotted the sand. She glared irritably at Azrael. "I'm not going to get rid of you until you've had your say, now am I?"

"Nope."

"All right then, talk."

"Good. Let me get straight to the point then. I find it intolerable that the women's division of WWE is in shambles when the creative department head is a woman herself. Simply put, Stephanie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Stephanie bristled at that. "When I said we could talk that never meant you could take shots at my character and authority, Azrael."

"Hard not to when you're not doing anything," Azrael snapped back. "It's 2005 and yet within the space of months the roles of women on the shows have been devolved into nothing but hos and sexpots. Chicks are being hired solely on the basis that they look good in bikinis. I have had to sit through lingerie pillow fights, Steph. A sledgehammer to the head would have been more pleasant."

"Well, unfortunately, sweetheart, that sells," Stephanie retorted. "I don't like to admit it, don't get me wrong, but WWE's primary demographic are overeager males between the ages of fifteen to thirty-five, a vast majority of which enjoy the sight of young girls bouncing around in immodest clothing. This is the portion of the audience that buys the most tickets, shirts and stuff the company puts up for auction. And I for one am not about to argue with numbers."

"Even if it's degrading and offensive to your own gender?"

"Oh please, you're hardly the spokesperson for morality yourself," Stephanie said, leaning back in her hammock.

Azrael frowned and opted for another angle. "You do realize that a similarly large portion of the company's fanbase are young girls, right? Those that are still impressionable will see this kind of display and think that slutting yourself up is acceptable. Those who can think for themselves will become disheartened, lose faith and may end up abandoning WWE altogether. And you sit back there trying to delude yourself into thinking that everything is going to be all right?"

"The women fans watch for the sake of seeing guys like Orton and Cena shirtless," Stephanie said. "To each their own."

"Bullshit," Azrael said. "I have yet to see men compete in underwear matches. And frankly if that did happen I wouldn't be here."

"Sorry, wrong channel. I believe the gay community may have something like that, though. You should check there."

"Ooh, funny. Leave the wisecracks to me, Steph; I deliver them with a little more panache than you do."

That did it. Stephanie lost her temper and yelled shrilly at Azrael. "That's it; this discussion is over! I have more than made my point and your argument barely has a leg to stand on. Now get the fuck out of here before I call authorities and report you for harassing me!"

Azrael didn't budge. She still had one ace up her sleeve. She took another sip of her drink and spoke again. "Remember when you held the Women's Championship, Steph?"

Somehow that subdued Stephanie. She gave Azrael a guarded look. "What about it?"

"Those were the days when that belt meant something. Sure you may have won it unfairly from Jacqueline, but that's not the point," Azrael said with a shrug. "I ask you now, you felt pride in carrying that title, didn't you? It symbolized something. Maybe not that you were the best woman in the ring skill-wise, but that you were the most dominant and the most powerful. Out of an impressive female roster you had the belt over your shoulder. It felt good, didn't it?"

Stephanie frowned and narrowed her eyes at Azrael. She hated to admit it but the hack of a writer had a point. "And so what if it did?"

"Can you honestly tell me that you can stand to see someone like Christy Hemme winning it in the near future, a rookie Diva whose in-ring prowess is limited to a couple of monkey flips and parading around in skimpy clothing? Can you stand to think that someone like her will be able to hold the honor that was equal to you? That something you yourself once revered is whittled down into a joke?"

In dealings, it never failed to go straight for the ego. Stephanie sat rigid in the hammock, glaring tight-lipped at Azrael. It was quiet for a solid minute until Stephanie spoke. "So just what was it you were suggesting again?"