Author's Note: I'm so sorry for lack of updates! I hope you like this chapter, and sorry it's a little short! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and please continue to do so!
Initiation Rite
Chapter 3
10/11/04
"They've got something else coming to them if they think that they can make me run with my tail between my legs," Christy snarled aloud as she stepped from her rental car. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders, facing the doors to the arena with determination heavy in her eyes. The redhead locked her car twice, walking the short distance to the doors into the arena. She had chosen not to acknowledge it earlier, but she knew that she had parked far closer than she normally would have, just as she'd left an extra change of clothes in the car instead of taking it all in the duffel bag hanging over her shoulder. 'I'm just being careful,' Christy thought as she walked, her stilettos clacking on the cool pavement. 'There's a difference between careful and scared. And for that matter, I'd rather be careful than stupid.' New as she was, Christy was not stupid. If she went about her general routine—as she was going to—she would be leaving her bag in the locker room in plain access to the other Divas. It was obvious that, by the end of the night, anything she had in there would be ruined in some way. Shrugging, Christy pushed one of the doors open. She had extra clothes in her car, and it wasn't like anyone here hadn't ever seen her in her bra and panties.
"Hello," the burly security guard said gruffly.
"Hi," Christy replied instinctively, smiling as she handed him her ID.
"Christy Hemme..." he murmured, going through the list of people to be allowed access that was on his clipboard. With a long scrawl, he checked off her name.
"Thanks," Christy said when he gave her back her card. Her pace was brisk as she walked to the General Manager's office, intent on getting her script for the night before heading to the women's locker room. As usual, there was a table set up beside the door to Eric Bischoff's locker room with two stagehands behind it, handing out the scripts. Christy sighed, realizing that Trish Stratus was there already, waiting for one of the women to find her script.
Christy walked up to the woman who wasn't looking for Trish's script and pushed forth a small smile that only lasted for the moment before the woman started looking in the pile for her script. Not particularly wanting to stand side-by-side by Trish—and knowing the situation was a ticking time bomb—Christy was trying hard not to become agitated that her script hadn't been found yet. She found herself sliding side glances toward the blonde bombshell next to her. 'How easy would it be to punch that smirk off of her face?' Christy wondered, and an instant later was shocked that she had the thought. Shaking her head, Christy reminded herself that all was fair in love and war, and this was most assuredly war.
"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you're scheduled for anything tonight," the woman spoke up finally, shrugging. Christy frowned. She could deal with not being scheduled, but she didn't want to be informed with Trish in hearing range.
"Oh, looks likesomebody's not scheduled for a segment today," Trish said, turning to Christy with a sickeningly fake sympathetic look. She flipped through her script and laughed, the sound screeching in Christy's ears. "Would you look at that! A title match!"
Christy saw red. She had always been the energetic, hyper one that simply brushed off insults, but Trish Stratus had gotten under her skin. Somehow, she knew that Trish had something to do with her not being scheduled tonight, and it bothered her to no end. "And let me guess, Trish, it's versus Stacy or Nidia," Christy spoke, knowing it was true. She smirked as Trish cocked her head, her upper lip curled. "Yeah, I thought so. The writers would never put you in a title match against Victoria or Jazz or Molly because, you know, the WWE tries to be as realistic as possible, and God knows that you would lose your title within the blink of an eye if you were put up against them." Trish's eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to Christy. Christy looked at her, her eyes betraying annoyance rather than intimidation.
"Listen, bitch, you don't belong in the same building as me," Trish declared, snarling. "You can go around and try and play with us big girls, but I suggest to you that you turn tail and learn what your role is—eye candy."
"And what would you say if I told you to rot in hell?" Christy asked calmly.
Trish's head snapped back to Christy. The blonde took a step and shoved Christy powerfully. Christy stumbled back a few steps. She took a moment to compose herself before slowly lifting her furious blue eyes to meet Trish. Trish took a small step backward, but Christy leapt forward, throwing all of her muscle into a loud slap across Trish's face. The Women's Champion let out a gasp as she fell against the wooden table next to them, holding her face. Christy glared at her triumphantly for a moment before turning around and heading to the women's locker room. There was a grunt behind her, and Christy turned.
The last thing she remembered was a blurred gold object heading straight for her forehead.