The Emancipation of Trish Stratus
A/N: I wish that I could tell you guys what all of your reviews mean to me. It's so awesome to know you're enjoying what I've written. Thanks a million times over. I know there's been some down time, some chapters that seemed to putter along at a pretty slow pace, but I promise that there will be more manipulating and mind games from Triple H, Trish, and Randy in the last few chapters of the story. I'm thinking that this will all wrap up in three or four more chapters, but I'm already thinking there might bea sequel here. You'll have to let me know what you think when we get to the end. But, for now, enjoy!(Y'all know I don't own shit, so do I really need to keep saying it? I will, justto be sure, but come on. . .)
It took Trish less than three minutes and a Stratusfaction to regain the Women's Championship. As Lillian announced her the winner and Earl Hebner raised her hand in victory, she listened to the booming cheers of the crowd. Though the fans had been behind her for more than a month, Trish still found it hard to get used to – people liking her again. She had been "boo"ed for so long, that sometimes she wondered what had changed their minds.
And then she saw him. Randy cleared the curtain and started down the ramp, decked out in a smokin' navy suit and a light blue dress shirt, his championship belt over his shoulder. He walked up the stairs and between the ropes, taking the Women's Championship belt from the referee while smiling at Trish, who watched him curiously. They had talked about celebrating her win later – but she hadn't expected him to come to the ring. "What are you doing?" she asked him with a grin that said she was more than happy to have him there.
Randy took the microphone from Lillian and then moved to Trish, towering over her in the center of the ring. He smirked that sexy little smirk that turned her insides all mushy, and then licked his lips. "I wanted to be the first one to congratulate you on your win, baby," he winked as he bent his knees slightly. "And I wanted to return the favor that you did me a couple weeks ago. I would be honored if you would allow me, Trish, to put this belt around your smooth, sexy waist?" She nodded and turned, wiggling her ass toward him and playing it up for the crowd. Their reaction said that they were eating it up as he wrapped the soft leather around her and snapped the button.
Smacking her ass, he spun her by her shoulders and then kissed her forehead and grinned at the beaming smile she was shooting at him. He then hitched his own belt higher on his shoulder and lifted the microphone to his lips again. "Looks good on ya," he winked at Trish again. "Everything is like we planned now, Sweetheart – it's like we dreamed, Trish," he started.
His well-planned speech was interrupted as Triple H's music hit and the Randy smiled at the crowd in satisfaction. Trish had been paranoid all day, unsure of when Hunter would exact his revenge, but Randy knew it would be public, and he was ready for it. "Triple H," he said confidently as the veteran stopped with Ric Flair at the top of the ramp. "How's it goin', man?" he asked.
If Hunter was amused, he surely was not showing it. "Congratulations, Trish," he said dryly. She rolled her eyes as he turned his attention back to her boyfriend. "You gotta be feelin' pretty good, huh, Orton? I mean, you played The Game, right?" Randy nodded in arrogance, and Trish tried to keep up the "confident" face, but she was finding it harder and harder not to let them see her sweat. Something bad was coming, and she wasn't sure Randy even realized it.
Triple H went on. "I'm impressed, quite frankly. Impressed that the two of you managed to pull off that whole twisted plan. Impressed that you had the guts to go through with it," he nodded as he spoke. "And I'm really impressed that you found a woman who was willing to do all the dirty work and win you both a title, Orton."
Trish cringed. Hunter wasn't the Cerebral Assassin for nothing, and he was proving his capacity for mind games now. She just hoped that Randy saw what was happening. He had to know that this wasn't a friendly conversation. It was bait.
"I guess I learned the 'Sleeping with Powerful Women' lesson pretty well, huh?" Randy asked.
It was a subtle barb at his mentor's marriage, but no one in the arena missed its implied meaning. Hunter's eyes flashed, but he let it go. "If you've learned anything, Kid, then it better be this: It's gonna take more than one well-executed scheme to take me down."
Randy nodded and lazily draped his arm over Trish's shoulder. "This is all fascinating, Triple H," he taunted, "but let's get to the point, okay? I mean, you came out here to demand a shot at getting the title back, right?"
"I did," Triple H affirmed, but then held up one finger. "But this time, it's gonna be on my terms. Your new friends, Cena and Batista, don't get involved. No unfair advantages."
Trish felt Randy's side shift, and she glanced up to see him chuckle and roll his eyes. Her shoulders stiffened under his touch, and she almost nudged him and told him to stop provoking the most vicious man in their business. She knew he wasn't helping anything, but she also knew that she couldn't do anything to stop him – not here, in front of a live audience, and the cameras, and most of all, not in front of Hunter.
"Alright," Randy said, that cocky smile in place on his lips. "Why don't you lay out your terms then?"
Triple H took a step forward. "You and me, no outside interference, at Unforgiven. One fall to a finish. One-on-One. RKO v. Pedigree. Man-to-man. Unless you don't do that anymore – I mean, I could always just fight your girlfriend for it again," he shrugged.
His fingers dug into her hip at The Game's implication, but the smile never left his face. "Why stop there, Triple H? You wanna go? Let's go all the way, baby," he challenged. "No disqualifications. No Holds Barred."
For a split second, Trish worried she might choke on the testosterone between the two of them. But Triple H wasn't done upping the ante just yet. "I'll give you you're Hardcore match, Orton. Not a problem. I will beat you so badly your own mother won't recognize you. You think you went Hardcore with Mick Foley? I'll make that match look like a Women's Championship match," he sneered, turning to Trish and pointing. "Women's Championship? That reminds me, Trish. I owe you a little bit of pay back, too. So here's my final stipulation. The Game versus the Legend Killer, no holds barred, at Unforgiven. With special guest referee, Trish Stratus."
The crowd went crazy as Trish turned to Randy with wide eyes. What the hell? "Wait a minute," Randy held up a finger and shook his head. "You want my girlfriend, who helped me screw you out of your title, to serve as the referee for our match at Unforgiven?"
Triple H smiled. It was a sick, cold smile that made Trish's stomach turn inside out. She knew what he was doing. Snatching the microphone out of Randy's hand, she shook her head. "No chance in hell, Hunter. No fuckin' way!" She realized, as soon as the words were out of her mouth, that she had committed a major television faux pas, but she didn't care. They could bleep it out. "I know what you're doing and it's not gonna happen," she insisted. Randy reached for the microphone, but she refused to give it up. "Do you see what he's doing?"
Randy nodded and tried to calm her down, the wild look in her eye making him slightly nervous. She was on the verge of losing her cool.
"He's punishing me, or he thinks he is," Trish spat, turning back to Hunter. "You told me, back when I challenged you for your title, that you were going to find out who I was dating and you were going to dismantle him. So this whole thing – this No Holds Barred match – you think you're gonna give me an in-ring seat to watch you tear apart the man I love, right?" Triple H smirked. "And it'd just be icing on the cake if I had to count the three to give you your belt back, right?"
She was about to tell him to go to hell when Randy took the microphone from her hand and put his arm back around her waist, pulling her to his side. "Baby, no worries, okay? I mean, we both know I can do this, right? He's not gonna have a chance to tear me apart. I'm gonna prove to him, and to everyone else, that I deserve this title. And I can't think of a better way to do it than with you at my side."
Nodding, she mouthed "okay," but she felt numb. He hadn't even thought about it. He had just let Triple H lure him into a dangerous, potentially devastating, match. And he had allowed their former friend to drag her right into the middle of the whole thing. Trish felt like she was the only one in the whole arena who realized this could not end well.