I'm sorry for being late with this one, I'm running out of steam and it's started to show in this chapter. I realize that I'm once again dragging this on for longer than it probably should, but I assure you that this is the second to the last chapter. And to anybody like Myth who is wondering at the history between Jericho and Azrael, well it's been a long running gag on most of my stories that the two hate each other and would do anything to disparage the other. I forgot how it started, although I know it somehow involves Pyper. But anyway, here's the chapter.

Date Uploaded: 21 July 2005

Part 05 - Leading to the Big Event

"I am telling you IDIOTS that we are special guests of Stephanie McMahon, no joke!" Pyper was still insisting as she, O-Gee and Juice were deposited outside the arena doors.

"Listen, why don't the three of you just beat it before we actually call authorities," one of the guards said brusquely, glowering down at them. "As it is, we're letting you off easy. Now make yourselves scarce," he turned to go back into the building along with the rest of his co-workers.

"Wait, you're not even going to let us prove it?" Juice demanded, hands on her hips.

"Oh sure, and how exactly are you going to prove that?" he sneered. "Another ID card drawn with crayons?"

Juice ignored his sarcasm and turned to Pyper, who had already hit a number on he mobile phone and was listening to it ring. "Hello? Steph, you won't believe this, but the guards actually threw us out! They—oh, you believe it, huh?"

"It's happened to you 368 times and counting, Pyper," Juice said sardonically. "Of course she'd believe it."

Pyper motioned for her to be quiet. "Sure I told them we were with you!" she said into the phone. "I even showed them my magic marker identification card but they just LAUGHED at us! Can you believe—oh, you believe that too, huh?"

"Does this have a point?" the guard asked impatiently.

"Uh huh, hang on a sec," Pyper then held the phone to him. "She wants to talk to you," she said ominously.

With a roll of his eyes, the guard, not sure why he was humoring this head case in the first place, took the phone. "Hello?" he said sarcastically.

The unmistakable, painful soprano tones of Stephanie McMahon rang in his ear. "You threw them out? Listen here, buster, I know the owner of that phone is a few pages short of a book, but when she says she is here through me she is damn well telling the truth!"

"M-Ms. McMahon…? Y-yes, Ms. McMahon," the hapless guard stuttered, snapping to attention as his companions gave him flabbergasted looks.

O-Gee giggled. "Ooh, somebody's in trouble…"

»»»

Meanwhile, backstage Coach and the Diva Search Contestants were abruptly stopped by Maria Kanellis and a cameraman, despite the fact that all of them were covered almost head to foot in junk food. "Wait, wait, wait!"

"What is it?" Coach snapped, wiping ice cream from his sunglasses. "We're kind of in a hurry right now, Maria, if you hadn't noticed," he said scathingly.

"But you can't go anywhere yet, I have an interview scheduled with all of you guys right now!" the air-headed presenter said frantically.

"What, now?" Coach said disbelievingly as the other women fidgeted and tried to pull food away from themselves as they moaned and groaned. "I never knew about that! Who told you that?"

"One of the crewmembers handed me this memo from Stephanie McMahon about it," Maria said, holding up the small piece of paper as if it was all the evidence she needed.

"Well we all need to get cleaned up," Kristal said indignantly, the others agreeing with her.

"But there's no time!" Maria said, thrusting a microphone in Coach's face and beckoning a camera forward some more. "The message also says that right after this the girls all have to do undergo a special round to make up for the one ruined earlier."

"And what special round is that?" Coach demanded, having been wary at hearing Stephanie's name.

"Well it says here that it's a make out round," Maria said, looking bewildered herself. "All the girls have to line up and see who can French Viscera the best."

Coach, plainly seeing that this was a practical joke carried out by the most gullible person on the roster, angrily pushed past Maria. The audience, watching on the Titantron, roared with laughter as the girls followed him, Maria scratching her head in confusion.

»»»

Back at the ring the clean up had finished and the Cabana had been set up. Despite the earlier ruckus, the show definitely had to go on.

The upbeat island music that was Carlito Caribbean Cool's theme faded and the arrogant IC Champ with the unmistakable Afro spoke into a microphone. "I was going to open by saying that being in Anaheim, CA was actually cool," he began. "But after the shocking display with the Diva Search contestants and about two crates of wasted food, Carlito has changed his mind."

Some audience members rolled their eyes as all of them booed. Carlito shook his head and continued. "But speaking of the Diva Search and the women of WWE, everybody has noticed that there has been this sudden boost, what with the two new ladies to the roster and that big five-woman match later for a new Women's Champion." Technically this wasn't quite true, seeing as Carlito had been too thick to actually notice anything. "Well with all these suspicions of a female conspiracy, Carlito decided to bring in someone who, while not part of the roster, may be able to give us some information. So come out, Azrael!"

He pointed to the stage. People buzzed at the unfamiliar name, although selected few may have remembered encountering it on a few rumor sites on the 'Net. Carlito stood there dumbly for a while; still pointing to the back although nothing signified anybody coming out.

Behind him, however, a figure had been helped over the barrier, took a microphone from Lillian and then proceeded to climb up the stairs and enter the ring. Azrael came to stand behind the impatiently waiting Carlito. She cleared her throat.

Carlito frowned, and then swiveled around, startled. "Where did you come from?"

"Does it matter?" Azrael said flippantly. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Why didn't you come down the ramp with the music and everything?" Carlito asked, irritated.

"Because, like you said, I'm not part of the roster. Why on earth should I expect to be treated as one?" Azrael pointed out. "Now, can we hurry this along? There are talented under-carders on this roster that could use this wasted airtime."

Carlito bristled. "Are you telling me that you think Carlito's Cabana is a waste of time?"

Azrael responded with a surprisingly charming smile. "Yes," she said, generating a few laughs and cheers from the crowd.

"Wholly shit, I think that is the first time I have actually seen Azrael smile," Alexis said from the ladies locker room, where she, Angel and Trish were watching the segment on a monitor.

"She's turning on the charm, trying to get the audience behind her," Trish said. "Let's hope she manages to keep it up."

Carlito looked miffed, suddenly realizing that this wouldn't be the walk in the park he envisioned. He decided to move on with the interview. "Opinionated, aren't you? So, Azrael, for the benefit of everyone here who have no idea who you are, tell us what you do."

"Me?" Azrael blinked. "I sit and I type, basically."

"Ah, so you're a writer."

"No, more like a hack, actually."

This was getting more frustrating by the second. Carlito adjusted the belt on his shoulder and decided to get serious. "Let's get to the point. There have been many rumors floating around recently, mostly about the changes in the women's division I spoke about earlier. The thing is, Azrael, quite a few revolve around you."

Azrael remained impassive. Carlito continued. "It is said that you were pivotal in the return of Stephanie McMahon on her self-imposed 'sabbatical'. It's also been supposed that you and Victoria concocted some secret plan together to turn the women's division upside-down. Now, Azrael, tell me, is that all true?"

Azrael was quiet first as she looked at him. And then she spoke. "Carlito, like I said, I'm a hack who sits at a computer more than half the day. I'm a nobody. Nearly every single person sitting in the audience right now is wondering what in the hell I'm doing in the ring when a tag team match or something could be go on. Now tell me, where do you think I would get the influence to do everything you just stated?"

In his office, Eric Bischoff seethed. "Come on, squeeze it out of her!" he practically yelled at his monitor.

Carlito smiled. "But we have witnesses who can swear that you were seen seated beside Stephanie McMahon on her flight back from Jamaica. You have also been spotted in the company of Victoria, as well as the two new divas, Angel and Alexis."

Azrael narrowed her eyes. "Did Bischoff have me followed?" she growled to him off the mic.

Carlito simply continued to smirk at her. "Well? Do you have any excuse for that? No? Then confess; what really is your role in all of this?"

Backstage Victoria gripped her elbow pad in a tight fist as she glared at a monitor. She could see Azrael was getting annoyed.

It was quiet for a moment as Azrael's look turned dark and she looked like she would have taken Carlito's head off with a honeydew, if she had one to fling. And then in a flash it disappeared as Azrael's not often seen smile returned. "Perceptive, aren't you? Well, I'm going to admit I have ranted about the condition of WWE in the past, the women's division one of my favorite topics. Well, like you seem to have, I noticed a sudden surge and decided to find out from the various sources what was going on. Stephanie McMahon, Victoria, Alexis Laree and Angel Williams were all merely nice enough to give me some time."

Carlito looked incredulously at her. "That's it? That's your best excuse?"

"It's not an excuse, it's the truth," Azrael answered with eerie believability. You saw Victoria last week; she works with nobody. How could I ever sit down and conspire with her? And I hardly think that I have any pull over Stephanie McMahon. In fact, I'd like to see you suggest that to her."

"But you were on the plane with her, WAY before most of this began."

"I have various anonymous tipsters," Azrael said with a wink. "And let's just say I have way too much money and time for my own good." She barreled on before Carlito could reply to that. "But why in the hell does a few sudden changes in the women's division warrant so much suspicion? Does the fact that women's wrestling in WWE is garnering some respect hurt your little male ego? Do you and Eric Bischoff, who I suspect asked you to invite me to this gigantic waste of time, feel so insecure about the slightest upsurge in women who are more than decoration that you immediately cook up this absolutely absurd notion of a huge conspiracy?"

Carlito was not expecting this. He stood, slack-jawed and speechless, momentarily forgetting where he was. In the back, Jericho watched from yet another monitor and snickered. He knew at least one person would get burned during this exchange. Initially disappointed with the cordial Azrael of earlier, he was glad to see she was finally showing her claws.

Most of the women in the crowd were rooting loudly for Azrael by now, and a lot of the men too. Pyper, O-Gee and Juice, who had been let back in, were in their seats and leading the cheer.

"I may not know what is going on," Azrael went on, "but I sure as hell am for it. Watching women's wrestling on WWE withering away did absolutely nothing for the great female talent out there, not to mention the great ones that were let go! Seven thousand Diva Searches wouldn't come close to comparing to Molly! Don't you dare back away; if I can't say this to management and Vince McMahon then I'm sure as hell going to say it to you! And if I can at least get some points through that teased up mane of yours into your head then maybe I've done something here worthwhile!" she snapped at Carlito.

Carlito had stepped back, but only to grab an apple from the stash Jericho had so 'thoughtfully' sent him. He bit into it, but was stopped when Azrael's hand lashed out and grabbed him by the ear. "This is a $2000 Armani suit," she snarled at him. "If you attempt to spit apple chunks all over it I will castrate you in your sleep. Are we CLEAR on THAT?"

Carlito, his mouth still full of chewed up apple, nodded mutely. Satisfied, Azrael let him go and then tossed the mic onto a chair before turning to leave.

And Carlito let rip his patented spitting move onto her turned back. Azrael stopped dead in her tracks as soggy apple pieces stuck to her hair and couture. The audience let out a low sound of disgust.

Azrael wasn't smiling anymore. Thoroughly repulsed, she slowly turned back around to meet the grinning face of Carlito. He spoke without the mic. "You may be able to scare and manipulate guys like Jericho, lady, but you don't scare me."

Instead of replying, Azrael pointed wordlessly behind him. Carlito turned and was blindsided by a kick from one of three newcomers in the ring. April Hunter, Tracy Brooks and Malia Hosaka, three of the most notable women wrestlers on the indie scene, began to beat up on the hapless Carlito, much to the delight of the surprised crowd. A double DDT, clothesline and Headhunter later, Carlito was on the mat.

Azrael, trying to ignore the mess that was on her back, took the mic again and went to sit at one of the deck chairs, leaning close to him. "So, Carlito, tell me, getting your ass kicked by three capable women on national television; cool or not cool?"

With that she tossed the microphone away and was about to leave when she caught sight of the barrel of apples. They looked different from the batch Carlito usually had on TV. Azrael took one and ripped off the company logo on the side of the barrel, taking it with her as she exited the ring along with Tracy, April and Malia. They left to a loud ovation.

»»»

In Eric Bischoff's office the said general manager was infuriated. All Carlito had to do was piss her off; insult her clothes, her intellect, her ego, whatever, in order to get her to cough up her implication in this whole matter. Bischoff may have been an asshole but he was no idiot; he knew the women were up to something and he knew Azrael was deeply involved.

The phone on his desk rang. He picked up it grumpily. "What?"

"Nice try, Eric. Too bad it fell flat."

Bischoff scowled. "Stephanie."

Stephanie gave an amused chuckle at the other end of the line. "I have to admit, Eric, I'm a bit impressed that you've managed to figure out that something is going on. It's a bit disadvantageous for us, of course, considering we figured you would be too preoccupied with getting the upper hand in this draft."

"Whatever you women think to accomplish with this little scam of yours, you can be assured that I'll find some way to overturn it," Bischoff said.

"Oh I highly doubt that, Eric," Stephanie said calmly. "By the time RAW is finished, our 'little scam' will have been over. A few loose ends to tie up here and there, but done for the most part. Don't be sore, Eric, you're not the only one who didn't see it coming. Don't forget to be a gracious loser now." And with that Stephanie hung up.

Bischoff somehow managed to refrain from chucking the phone receiver at the wall. He replaced the handset and brooded. RAW had an hour and a half left. There was still time. He got to his feet and went out the door.

»»»

Ivory looked at Stephanie's face as the latter turned off her cellphone. "So, how mad was he?"

"Considerably angry," Stephanie replied. She tapped a finger contemplatively to her lips. "I wouldn't put it past Eric to still pull something out of his ass and attempt to crash this whole thing, though. I think it's time we took him out of the picture," she grinned wickedly. "Well, at least momentarily.

"I was wondering when you would say that," Ivory said with a smile of her own. "I'll find Victoria; we'll take care of it." She headed off, already flexing her fingers as she did so.

Stephanie's grin mellowed into a smile. There was still every chance this could go wrong, case in point the already small hitch of Pyper and company being thrown out momentarily, not to mention the problem of Lita in the match itself. Shaking herself and refusing to think it, she walked off towards the direction of the executive lounge. All the key players were in place and Stephanie had done her part; time for a drink.

»»»

"Jericho!"

Jericho turned at the sound of his name and barely caught the apple that was thrown in his direction. He visibly recoiled as Azrael strode up to him. "Jesus, I know we happen to unfortunately be in the same building, Amara, but it's a big place. Couldn't you have been contented with us NOT having to run into each other?"

Azrael ignored the insult and held up the logo she had taken from the barrel of apples. "I called the company number for this particular branch, and they so very helpfully told me that the last person who ordered that particular haul happened to be one Christopher Irvine, a.k.a. Chris Jericho, a.k.a. you, jackass." She pointed a finger at him. "You shoved me off to Carlito's Cabana, didn't you? And I'll bet you told him to rattle me and encouraged him to do his little apple spitting routine on me."

Jericho smirked down at her. "Oh, it took you that long to work it all out? Getting a little rusty, aren't you?"

"Well I hope you had a good laugh. You'll be getting my dry-cleaning bill," Azrael grabbed the apple back out of his hands and stuffed it in his mouth. "Good night, Jeric-ho." She stalked off.

Jericho bit into the apple and let go with a few laughs before walking off himself.

»»»

In another lounge, the company's currently most-despised couple sat and, well, lounged. Lita was lacing up her boots securely as Edge watched the replay of Carlito's Cabana on the TV screen.

"But you'd tell me, right, if there really is any truth to this female conspiracy?" Edge asked, draining a can of soda. "I mean the Azrael chick came prepared, bringing along those indie women. Are you sure nothing is going on?"

"Hey, if there was one, don't you think I would know?" Lita said, looking up at him from the couch. "I've been one of the most influential women in WWE for the past five years; of course I would be in on something like that! If you ask me, Bischoff's just being paranoid again."

Seeing as Edge had the more brains in this outfit, he seriously doubted that. He was about to say more when Lita held out her arms to him. "So, how about a good luck kiss before my match?"

And to which Edge lost all semblance of rationality and entered into another disgusting lip-lock with her that audiences were fortunate enough not to have to witness.

»»»

The special five-way match was coming up soon. From the women's locker room Alexis and Angel emerged, Trish having to use the john one last time and telling them to go ahead. The two of them were suddenly halted on their way to the ring, though. "You two, stop!"

They both turned and saw Eric Bischoff jogging up to them, a calculating look on his face. "Ladies, I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Eric Bischoff, the RAW general manager."

"We know who you are," Alexis said coldly. "You've been passing us up for the past few months for those Diva Search finalists. Tell me, is that paying off?"

"Now I wouldn't be like that if I were you," Bischoff said, not losing his cool. "You see, while you may have gone over my head and gotten a contract from your good pal Stephanie McMahon, I, like I said, am the general manager. As such I have the power to make or break you while you remain on my show. A crappy match here, a shitty angle there, and before long you're stuck jobbing in dead end dark matches against Simona of the current Diva Search."

Alexis' lips pursed in disapproval. Angel frowned worriedly. "What exactly do you want?"

"Blow the match tonight," Bischoff said. "And then afterwards admit to this whole scheme that you women concocted. You women just got here. You wouldn't want to lose this opportunity so soon, now would you?"

Both Angel and Alexis were furious. Fortunately someone spoke up for them. "Blackmail, Bischoff? I'll admit, though, it's right up your alley."

Bischoff turned to see Azrael striding up to him, April, Tracy and Malia still with her. He scowled at them. "Are you four still here? I thought you would have been kicked out by security by now."

"Ah, but I was invited here, and April, Tracy and Malia happen to be with me," Azrael pointed out smoothly. "Oh don't look so annoyed, Bischoff. We were about to leave, anyway."

"Yeah, we were just going to wish Angel and Alexis good luck on the match tonight. Of course we did happen to hear the tail end of your little conversation," April said with a frown.

"Is this why so many talented veterans are being kicked around by inexperienced rookies?" Malia wondered. "So tell us, what did Hurricane do? Was he too entertaining? Or Tajiri? Not able to speak English fluently?"

"And just where do you girls get off talking to me like that?" Bischoff demanded. "I'll have you know that I have a position of power—"

"Blah blah blah, yadda yadda, big deal, Bisch," Azrael said, rolling her eyes. "Unlike Angel and Alexis, none of us have contracts. As such we are more than entitled to tell you to kiss our asses without consequence."

"Not that we would have minded doing so even with contracts," Tracy said with a grin.

"That's right," Angel suddenly said, looking determined. "For the benefit of Alexis and I, plus all the other talented women who will come and go over the next few years, I say fuck off, Eric Bischoff. We're going to do this match, regardless of whatever you may do to us afterwards."

"Well said," another voice spoke up, even as Bischoff turned purple with rage.

Victoria walked over along with Ivory. The raven-haired diva grinned around at everyone. "Well, I didn't know we were having a little gathering over here. Ivory and I would have come over sooner."

At that moment the door to the women's locker room opened again and Trish shuffled out. She blinked in surprise to see them. "What's going on?"

"Oh, Eric here was just in the middle of trying to unravel our whole 'conspiracy' again," Ivory said dryly.

"Unfortunately, Bischoff, you seem to be the only one who cares enough to believe that the women have something planned out," Azrael said nonchalantly. "Which is unfortunate, considering you're right, for once."

"I knew it!" Bischoff said triumphantly. "Finally, one of you conniving bitches admitted it! I'm going to have all of your heads on the chopping block for this, yes, even you four NOT signed to WWE! And I'll get Stephanie McMahon too, boss' daughter or not! I'll—what in the hell are you all smiling about?" he snapped, cutting himself off.

By now all of the women were giving him dangerous grins. They had also rounded up on him in a conveniently otherwise deserted hallway. "You're not very bright, are you, Eric?" Trish said. "Nine of us, one of you, you do the math."

Finally Bischoff seemed to get it. He looked nervously from the smirking Victoria, to the sneering April and the coyly simpering Angel. "You can't seriously be thinking—"

"Get him!" Victoria yelled.

At that all of them dove for Bischoff, save for the injured Trish and the placid Azrael. Within minutes the loudly protesting Eric Bischoff had been beaten to the floor. Azrael and Trish went to act as lookouts as Victoria and the others hauled Bischoff into a storeroom. Inside Ivory, Tracy and Alexis tied him up and gagged him. He was left there, bruised, sore, immobile and glaring fiercely at them, the gag muffling his curses. Victoria shut the door on him with a satisfying thud.

"That'll keep him out of the way for the rest of the night, in the very least," Victoria said, dusting her hands.

"What if someone tries to look for him?" Tracy asked.

"I'll take care of that," Azrael said, jogging off quickly with no further explanation.

"And if someone passes by and hears that racket he's kicking up?" April said, as the thudding sounds in the room became louder.

"That I'll take care of," Ivory said, grinning. "You girls head off, the match is in twenty minutes."

Wishing Victoria, Alexis and Angel good luck, the girls parted with Trish heading ringside and April, Malia and Tracy out the building.