Author's Note: Wow! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! :) I was unsure in posting this fic at first, but since ya'll seem to like it, I'll continue! Anyway, things will start to really pick up soon, I promise! Well, I'll stop my rant...but please review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story itself.

Distribution: Fiery Passion, and eventually Lizzy's Lair.

Initiation Rite

Chapter 2

10/5/04

"Come on in, Christy," Vince McMahon's voice boomed through the wooden door. The redhead on the other side let out a small breath before turning the doorknob and stepping inside of his office. As was the other times—four, to be exact—she had found herself in his office, it was quite immaculate. The only things on Vince's dark mahogany desk were a few pictures of his wife, daughter, son, and grandbaby, along with a small stack of papers.

"Hi, Mr. McMahon," Chrisy said, slightly nervous. She cleared her throat. 'I am Christy Hemme. Christy Hemme is never nervous. Get it together, girl,' she told herself sternly.

"I didn't expect to see you so early..." Vince chuckled, "not that it's not a good thing, of course."

Christy pressed a smile. "Well, you see... It's about the other WWE Divas."

"Ah, yes," Vince leaned back in his chair. "They are quite the bunch, aren't they?" he smiled. "I don't know about you, but I'm proud to know they don't allow their attitudes on television to influence their own personalities. In time, you'll have to do the same. Not everyone is allowed the privilege to be themselves in the ring."

Christy sighed heavily, realizing that this was going to be harder than she thought. Last night, she had nursed her wounds as best she could, and retreated to the hotel room, wondering desperately why the Divas would do this to her. It wasn't like she had done anything to them! Sure, maybe she had an easier road to Diva-dom than them, but they could've at least given her a chance to prove herself! They wanted her to go home. Well, she would show them! No one pushed Christy Hemme around, whether she idolized—or had, she wasn't sure anymore—them. She wasn't going to go home, and she wasn't going to stand for this, this hazing. What did Trish and the others expect from her? To either leave, or come in meekly each day, making it her own business to avoid them. It wasn't going to happen. Christy never thought of herself as a tattle-tale, but this was something she felt had to be done. If Vince didn't do anything...then she knew she would, and she didn't want to mix it up backstage already, with everyone's opinions on her still undecided. Nevertheless, either way something was going to change, and it was up to Vince McMahon how it changed.

"So, Christy, what were you going to tell me?" Vince prompted, toying with the corners of the paper on his desk. Christy sighed, shifting in her seat.

"Mr. McMahon, I know this is going to sound really, really... Well... Like a lie," she saw his eyebrows lift only slightly, "but it's true. Will you hear me out?" she asked, and he nodded. Christy let out a breath. "Well, last night, after that segment I did, I came back to the women's locker room, and Trish introduced me around to some of the girls," she paused. "All of a sudden, Trish started calling me a slut, and telling me that I only got in because some, and I quote, 'dumbass fans' voted for me. After she said that, Jazz grabbed me and threw me into the locker, and then she and Molly kept attacking me..." Christy trailed off and looked at Vince. His eyes were shrouded by the shadow cast by his forehead, and she could see no emotion that he portrayed. "I don't want to seem like a tattle-tale, but under my contract, I'm entitled to a safe working environment, right?" she added lamely. "I don't want this to blow into a big thing, but maybe if you said something to them..." she trailed off.

"Christy..." he paused, and stood up, pacing. "What you have come to me with is very disturbing," her eyes followed his movements. "But what is more disturbing is that you started this off with 'this may sound like I'm lying, but...' In my experience, that means you're lying. But I listened anyway, and it's so far-fetched, it's laughable." Christy bit her lip, not saying a word. "We've never had any problems backstage, and I doubt it's starting now," he looked down at her. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, though, Christy. Fact is, I can't do anything without genuine proof that the Divas are doing anything to you," he narrowed his eyes. "And if you are lying, I'd suggest you pack your bags and go home."

Go home. It was the same thing that Trish had told her. Christy stood up abruptly, her jaw clenching. The chair she'd been sitting in rolled backward a little. "Thank you for your time," she said, her voice monotone. With that, she turned on her heel and walked out the door, letting the door slam shut in its frame. A scowl marred her features as she briskly walked out of the building and onto the sidewalk.

It was obvious that Vince McMahon was not going to help her.

She was on her own.