Hi everybody!

Welcome to another chapter of SNIY. I like to thank those who read, reviewed, favorited and are following this story. I really appreciate the feedback! I'm surprised I got this update out so quickly in less than a week, but I'll let you in on a little secret.

I've already got a few chapters done and they are just waiting to be posted ;) I decided to try writing them down first before posting them to update a bit faster. I can't promise anything but I'm gonna try doing that for my other stories so we'll see how that goes.

Okay, now that's out the way here's the next chapter. Enjoy!


Chapter 1: The Bane of my Existence

-Six Years Later-

My heart was racing.

Heavy pants escaped my parted lips as sweat dripped into my eyes, prompting me to quickly wipe away the line of perspiration that had formed on my brow. Bracing myself on one knee, I stared down at my opponent critically, wracking my brain for a way to keep her down for good. I've thrown everything I had at the former Funkadactyle, including that Spine Buster just now but she kept coming back for more.

Naomi was wearing down after going at it with me for about ten minutes. We're both pretty competitive women. Neither of us wanted to lose; we are professional wrest- I'm sorry, Divas.

I was just as tired myself as we traded blow after blow back and fourth. I was able to get in one good elbow before trapping her in a front headlock, transitioning it into a swinging neckbreaker. I go for the cover and the ref attempts a three count. Naomi managed to kick out at two and a half and I couldn't stop myself from slapping the match in frustration. Dammit, just stay down already!

Letting out a huff, I dragged the dark-skinned Diva to her feet and over to one corner. I hauled her up onto the top turnbuckle, oblivious to the excited noise coming from the crowded arena while trying to drape an arm across my shoulders so that I could perform a Suplex. But Naomi caught me with a sudden headbutt; after delivering a couple more I was forced to let go and fell to the canvas on my back. Naomi positioned herself so that she was facing the turnbuckle with her hands gripping the top rope on either side. Bracing herself, she jumped up and then dropped down, effortlessly executing her spilt-legged moonsault finisher.

It's not fun having the weight of a fully grown body land right on top of you. The air was knocked out of my lungs, the last of my energy spent as Naomi pinned me with the hook of my leg.

1...

2...

3!

The ref made the count, promptly ending the match. Boos erupted from the fans as the bell rung, followed by the Diva's theme blasting through the PA system. "Here is your winner...Naomi!"

All the attention was focused on the other woman now while she celebrated her victory. That's when I took my cue to leave, following the routine of quietly rolling out of the ring and heading to the back. Another show, another lose under my belt. How many does that make now? I've counted six from just this month alone; three from house shows, two on Main Event, and this one tonight. Not the kind of streak to be proud of.

Backstage was hustling and bustling with activity when I returned. Monday Night Raw is in full swing with tech crewmen staying busy and stagehands working to keep the show running smoothly, running around like a bunch of chicken with their heads cut off. Superstars and Divas were decked out in their ring gear, waiting for their segments and matches to come up. I've done my part for the night so I can get cleaned up and head back to the hotel at this point.

"Yo Deja!"

I turned at the sudden bark, arching a brow as Naomi came strutting up to me. "What'chu want? Come to rub your win in my face?"

"Don't get an attitude with me. S'not my fault you didn't bring your A-game," she sassed. "As much as I would like to gloat I just have one thing to say to you..."

An intense staredown lasted between us for a few seconds...before we both burst into fits of laughter. And just like that we dropped out of character, going from enemies to friends in a heartbeat.

"Good match," Trinity smiled, engulfing me in a hug. "You're getting better and better all the time."

I hugged her back. "So are you."

Trinity Fatu and I have known each other for years now. We met back in developmental long before FCW became NXT and have been friends ever since. She's like the big sister I never had. Whenever I have a problem and need to talk to someone, I always confide in her. She's the best girlfriend anyone could ask for.

"Did I really do good?" I couldn't help but ask. "It didn't feel like my best work."

"Are you kidding? You were on point out there," Trinity told me as we both grabbed bottles of water from out the cooler stationed near the curtains.

I cracked mine open and took a few swallows. "That's because you were in the match and I had to make you look good...no offense."

"None taken, but you don't give yourself enough credit. Our match was pretty damn good because we both put real effort into it. Certainly better than the one I had with Nicole."

I grimaced at the memory of watching the Diva's Championship match between Naomi and Nikki Bella at Extreme Rulez the night before. There had been a number of botches, most on the twin's part to the point that it trigger a 'You Can't Wrestle' chant from the audience. Yeah, it was bad. "It could've been worst. At least you got a shot at the belt."

"And I would've won too if Management hadn't changed it's mind at the last minute!" Trinity exclaimed.

True. Creative had spent weeks building Naomi up as a heel, having her feud with the Bella Twins (Who had been switched back to Baby faces without any explanation whatsoever) after writing Paige off TV for a little while. She was supposed to finally win her first championship last night, but that didn't happen on the account of the higher-ups not believing she was ready. And by higher-ups I mean Vince McMahon himself.

He was still pretty high on Nicole being Diva's Champion and made the final decision to keep the belt on her. The Bellas were not only the stars of that reality show 'Total Divas' but also the faces of the Divas Division. They have more than enough backstage power to keep themselves in the spotlight, especially Nikki since she's banging the 'Face of the WWE' John Cena. So yeah, she ain't dropping that belt anytime soon.

"Who cares what the suits think. You should've won that match," I stated point blank.

Trinity went to say something when a stagehand suddenly came up to us. "Miss Fatu, you're needed for an interview for the Raw Fallout," he informed her, leaving as quick as he came.

She sighed. "Alright, I better go get this over with. I'll catch up with you later, k?"

"Sure. See ya back at the locker room."

I watched as my best friend walked away, shaking my head. I can only imagine how she's feeling right now. Trinity is one of the hardest working women I know and, without a doubt, the most athletic. Everyone knew that she should be Diva's Champion at this point in her career, but the Status Quo that is backstage politics has prevented her from getting that big push. To have all your hard work ignored, to be continuously overlooked in favor of another less deserving is very frustrating.

That's how she was feeling. That's how most of us Divas have been feeling for a long time...

"Rough night, Sugar?" a raspy voice spoke up from behind me. Ugh, great...

With an inward groan, I slowly turned to face the man who I considered the bane of my existence. "Back off, Good. Not right now."

Jonathan Good, better known to the WWE Universe as Dean Ambrose, swept the damp fringes of his sandy brown hair to the side, revealing his baby blue eyes as they stared down at me. "What's the matter? Upset that ya lost another match? You should be used to your losing streak by now."

And there he goes with the insults. "If you're here just to try and provoke me don't bother. I'm not in the mood." I didn't feel like putting up with his comments; all I care about is taking a long hot shower and heading back to the hotel. Unfortunately, his dense mind didn't pick up on it.

"I'm not provokin' ya, I was just stating an obvious fact. It must really suck to be in your shoes, as a Diva not being taken seriously," Jon said conversationally. He's trying to get a reaction out of me.

I didn't rise to the bait, however, and simply brushed past him. "Yeah, it sure does."

The sound of footsteps indicated he was following me. "That's it? No witty remark? No smart ass comeback, Sugar?"

"Nope. Too tired to wrack my brain...and don't call me Sugar." Dammit...

That was all he needed. "Why not? The nickname fits ya perfectly, Sugar. You're really sweet when you wanna be."

His hand suddenly ruffled my already disheveled hair. I let out a yelp and quickly batted it away, whirling around to glare at him. "Don't touch my hair, man! What I tell you about that?"

Jon laughed at my discomfort. "Oh c'mon, I like touchin' ya hair. All nice and shiny. It sets you apart from all the other broads on the roster. I'd run my fingers through it all day if I could."

I gave him a funny look. It was true that I stood out from the rest of the Divas...just not in a good way. One reason is because of my silver grey hair. And no, it's not dyed either. Most people think it is, but it's really because of a genetic disorder I have, a rare mutation of the roots that causes my hair to grow grey really early in life; lack of pigment. While my hair is something most people wished to have at my age, I find it to be an utter annoyance. It's just a constant reminder that I'm anything but normal, that people think I'm a freak of nature and nothing more.

It certainly made me a target for endless ridicule. I was shunned by my peers growing up, picked on and bullied and made fun of for years. Not much has really changed. It explains why I don't have many friends nowadays, my inability to trust others so easily. Hell, it took me a long time just to open up to Trinity. Believe me, the thought of dying my hair a different color has crossed my mind a lot, but I can never bring myself to actually do it. Even if I did it wouldn't make much of a difference.

Everyone would still see me as the outcast of the roster.

"You know only creeps would say something like that, right?"

The self-proclaimed Lunatic Fringe feigned a hurt expression. "How rude. You really think I'm a creep?"

"Absolutely not," I shook my head. "I think you're a pervert. There's a difference."

"You wound me, Sugar. Then again ya not wrong," he added. "I can be a pervert in ways that'll make even a pornstar blush. Maybe I can show ya one day."

Jon's voice had grown low and husky, his eyes turning mischievous. Uh-oh, he's putting on what he calls the 'Good Charm'. Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!

"As...interesting as that sounds I can only guess what your definition of perversion really is so...no thanks."

"So it's like that, huh?" he questioned.

"Exactly like that," I replied as a matter of fact, turning to continue my trek to the Diva's locker room. And he still followed. Can't he take a hint and take a fucking hike?

"Whatever. You know you want me."

A laugh couldn't help but escape me. "Good one, Jon. Still tryna' get over your break-up with what's her name?"

I knew I went too far as soon as I said it. And I was proven right when I was grabbed by my shoulder and spun around; my back met cool stone as I was pushed against the wall roughly. Jon stood over me with his taped up hands planted on the hard surface on either side of my head, his muscular arms keeping me caged in. The playful look in his gaze had been replaced with something harder, something more icy as they pierced me with a steely stare.

"You're lucky I'm in such a good mood or else I'd put ya over my knee. You can deny it all ya want, Troy. That's what they all do at first until they get a taste of what I can do. You'll come around eventually. It's only a matter of time."

Ah, still a sore subject I see. If anybody else had mentioned it he would've gone ballistic by now. Of course, this is nothing new so I'm used to his volatile mood swings.

"Jon, stop harassing Troy." We both turned to find Joe Anoa'i coming down the hall towards us. "Come on, your match is next."

"You better go or else you'll get into trouble." I gave Jon a sweet smile. "And we both know you can't afford to let that happen again."

He ran his tongue across the inside of his bottom lip. "We'll talk later."

"Yeah, sure." My reply came off sarcastic as I ducked under his arms and walked away. As if.

I wouldn't touch Jonathan Good with a ten foot pole. With his reputation who knows what kinds of STD's he may be carrying. Unless I'm hanging out with either Joe or (God forbid) Colby I always tend to stay away from Jon as much as possible. And I like to keep it that way.

Too bad Fate has other ideas...


Aaaand done! There ya go. I hope ya'll liked it. In case some of you are confused, Deja Grey is Troy's stage name in WWE, just like her name was Libra Slate back in DGUSA.

So what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!

Till next time!