WWE Monday Night Raw

Randy Orton had never been one to mince words or stop short of insulting his colleagues.

In fact, out in the ring tonight, he had managed to insult Mr. McMahon, John Cena, and the Legacy pair of Ted Dibiase and Cody Rhodes in the same breath. This, of course, drove Mr. McMahon to march down to the ring himself, infuriated.

"Randy, I'd be more than happy to shut you up myself," he began. "But I think there's someone else who'd like to have a shot at you first." Randy looked to the ramp, expecting Cena to be the next person he saw. But the strains of Linkin Park's "Bleed It Out" filled the stadium suddenly, and all eyes turned to the shadowed figure on the ramp. The spotlight turned as well, catching on the slender figure of a girl who could not have been taller than 5'3" and who looked to be perhaps 125 pounds soaking wet. But she wore a motorcycle jacket like she was born to ride, and carried herself with military precision and an air of confidence. She saluted Mr. McMahon before beginning her trip down the ramp, tucking back several chocolate-brown waves that had escaped her braid as she ducked into the ring.

"What the hell," Randy Orton snarled, "is she doing here?"

She ignored him, shaking Mr. McMahon's hand as he offered it and waving merrily to the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, meet Raw's newest acquisition," Mr. McMahon announced.

"My name is Erin Harris," she said clearly. "Private First Class Erin Harris, of the United States Marines."

"And would you like to tell the fanbase of WWE why you're here, Private Harris?" Mr. McMahon asked, playing to the audience's cries. Randy Orton glared at her, veritably radiating hate. Erin smiled sweetly, looking only at the crowd.

"I'm the reason Randy Orton was dishonorably discharged from the United States Marines," Erin began. "I'm the reason he spent 38 days in military prison after being court-martialed."

"I think I hear a good story here, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. McMahon continued, clapping Erin on the shoulder. "What do you think—would you like to hear it?" The stadium roared a resounding yes, and Erin smiled, taking a seat on the top corner ropes. Randy began to pace angrily, but she didn't spare him a single glance.

"Our story begins in 1999, the year I graduated Southside High School in Elmira, New York, two years behind my good friend Beth Phoenix—you might know her?" she joked, playing it up for the crowd. She laughed softly, going on. "I enlisted for a six-year term in the Marines the day I graduated, and shipped off to Camp Pendleton for basic training—the same base that Private Randy Orton was already infamous on for having gone AWOL for 82 days. He was known as the bad boy on base, but I only knew him as the nice guy in my squad who helped me get my bearings, who held my hair back when I threw up after the first distance run, and made sure I didn't get picked on by my other squadmates. He was my first friend at Camp Pendleton, and he became one of my best friends in entire Marine Corps."

Randy sneered at her, but she still didn't look at him. Instead, she swung herself off of the ropes, beginning to pace the ring herself.

"The thing was," Erin continued, shaking her head. "The thing was, Randy wasn't infamous just for going AWOL. He was also infamous for having slept with almost every woman on base. So some of his friends from another squad made him a bet. They wagered him one month's pay that they could pick one woman on base that he couldn't sleep with. Randy took the bet, and they picked his best friend on base." She stopped pacing, standing in front of Randy and looking at him for the first time, forcing him to look at her. "They picked me."

Randy towered over her, and she stared right back at him. She didn't back down from his glower, and he finally turned away.

"Randy was my best friend on base," Erin went on. "So when he tried to kiss me, I let him. When he held my hand under the mess hall tables, I let him. When he gave me backrubs, I let him. But when he tried to get into my pants, I told Randy Orton the one thing no woman had ever told him." She stared straight at Randy Orton once more, daring him to remember. "I told him no."

The stadium erupted in cheers, and Erin smiled slightly, shaking her head.

"I told him no, and he broke my arm," she said flatly. "I told the base doctor that I fell out of my bunk and landed wrong, and that was how I broke my arm. He was my best friend, after all. Military life is hard. Everybody breaks at some point—that's what training is supposed to do to you. So I wrote it off as stress. Randy lost his bet, and I spent six weeks doing every bit of basic training I could with a cast on my arm. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything, and I thought it was settled."

Erin began to pace once more, twirling the end of her braid idly.

"My first day back, I was paired with Randy for hand-to-hand combat practice," she continued. "And I was happy, to be honest. I knew that he'd push me, because we worked to make each other better. And he pushed me, alright. He pushed me so hard our commanding officer had to order him to stop trying to kill me. He didn't. It took three military policemen to pull him off of me, and they had to rush me into surgery before I could even look at him. My arm was broken again, and they had to put steel pins in it. My jaw was broken, I had a dislocated elbow, and I had massive internal bleeding. Randy Orton spent 38 days in military prison. I spent three days in the hospital and two months doing rehab before finally finishing my basic training and shipping out to Fallujah. I served my term and came back stateside, got a degree in computer science and came here. But I never forgot why I set off metal detectors every time I go through. I never forgot why my jaw aches every time it rains. And there's no way in hell I ever forgot who did it to me."

Erin finally stopped pacing, standing at the center of the ring. She lowered the microphone, watching Randy once more.

"And I'll ask you again," Randy growled. "Why the hell are you here?"

"I came to tell you just one thing, Randy," Erin replied, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. "I've been shot at. I've been bombed. I survived IEDs and firefights, I survived being a prisoner of war, I survived a damn war, Randy. And after all that, you're just a man. I'm not scared of you, Randy. And I'm here to tell you that it's time for payback. I'm taking you down." The entire stadium fell silent in time to hear something no one had ever heard.

Randy Orton laughed.

"Now I understand that you don't respect me one bit," he said, turning to Mr. McMahon and ignoring Erin. "But do you really want me to cripple a Diva for life?"

"Private Harris isn't a Diva," Mr. McMahon replied. "In fact, we made a deal. If she beats you tonight, she joins the Raw circuit and fights as one of the guys. If she loses, I sign her as a Diva and she does whatever I tell her to instead."

"Good thing you've got practice taking orders," Randy said menacingly, turning to Erin. "Get ready to take some more." Erin laughed, flipping Randy off before leaving the ring without another word. The crowd roared its approval, and Erin had to smile as she left.

A/N: So this is my first-ever WWE story! I promise to actually include wrestling (*gasp*) in it too. All character names belong to the WWE of course, except for Erin. She's mine. And everyone is written in-character (I'm using the on-screen personalities, basically). The action will get much better than this; this is just laying the groundwork.

I should note that I started writing this story in January of 2010, and a lot of it was completed by May—so a lot of characters have outdated gimmicks, and I won't reference every event that occurs in the WWE (some of them I'll work in; others I'll ignore). But I hope you enjoy, so read and review, please!