Blaze of Glory

A/N: Wow, so I got a lot of reviews for the last two chapters, and that totally reaks of awesomeness! Thanks so much. I know you probably get tired of hearing that at the beginning of every story you read, but it really does mean a lot to me. I love knowing that you're connecting to the movement - joining the revolution, so to speak. Anyway, I wrote a different chapter last night, but decided to save it for later in story. Instead, this is what you get. I hope you like it, as always. And I don't own shit - if I did, you would be seeing this storyline on television, instead of insane "face growth" gimmicks. What the fuck? Anyway, I won't get off on that tangent right now. Enjoy!

"Are you sure it's cool?" Trish asked, holding her cell phone to her ear as she watched a bug crawl across the floor of the locker room. Behind her, she could hear Victoria and Lita whispering about something.

He spoke incredulously, as though he was shocked that she would even ask. "Trish, I told you I would do anything you needed me to do."

She smiled at the gruff sound of the Undertaker's voice. The first time they had spoken, it had freaked her out. The next couple of calls had helped ease her into a mentor/pupil relationship with the veteran, resulting in sage wisdom and great advice. He couldn't be there to train her physically, but he was more than willing to answer all of her questions, and teach her everything he could about intimidation. 'Psyche 'em out before you ever show up.' That was his philosophy, and she was trying to follow suit.

"I know it seems like a little thing to you, but it means the world to us," she told him, hoping that she didn't come off as a soft little girl. The last thing she wanted was for her hero to think that she was weak.

"What do I always tell you?"

"You don't take out the competition. You take out the assholes who think they're competition," Trish repeated the words he had shared so many times.

Taker's soft chuckle of amusement filled the space between them. "Alright, then," he seemed to concede, as though he couldn't see why she stood in such awe of him. "I think it sounds great, and I'd be more than happy to be a part of this whole thing."

The weight of his words washed over her as she turned and gave a thumbs up to her anxious friends. The three did an abbreviated version of the 'happy dance' before Victoria and Lita dropped to the couch and Trish turned her attention back to the critter on the floor. "Thanks, man," she said, trying to reassemble her cool demeanor.

He mumbled something, and Trish wasn't sure if it was aimed at her or not. "Sorry," he cleared his throat after a second. "I gotta get goin', but I'll be watchin' you, Kid," he reminded.

She swallowed the nerves that his statement evoked. It was bad enough that her friends, and her boyfriend, were watching her. But the idea of Taker examining her ring antics, and weighing in with his expert opinions, made her want to throw up. "I'll try to do you proud, then," she smiled slightly, turning back around to face her friends.

"You always do," he encouraged before ending the call.

"So it's cool?" Victoria asked, standing and turning her attention to the television screen in their locker room when Trish nodded. "This is gonna be so much fun."

XXX

"As you all know, a WWE diva will be asked to show her skills in the ring from time to time," Coach was saying to the newest crop of diva search girls. The final three of them watched him with expectant eyes, waiting for instructions on their next challenge. "So tonight, you are going to show this audience, and the millions of people watching at home, just how well you move in the ring."

Before he could speak again, an innocent giggle flowed through the speakers of the arena. The crowd, who moments ago were chanting 'Bor-ing' in a loud monotone, broke into hysterical cheers. But instead of Trish's music, a heavy drum beat and a gong followed. If the crowd had been crazy before, they lost their minds when the opening strains of Taker's old "You're Gonna Pay" started.

You've done it now. You've gone and made a big mistake.

Trish, Victoria, and Lita moved through the curtain, stopped at the top of the ramp, and listened to the reaction during the first section of the song. They all fought the smiles that were dangerously close to cracking their lips. This was not about happily acknowledging the fans, though they appreciated the support more than any of them would ever know. It was about taking the next step.

A cheap shot. That's the way that you play the game.

I was blindsided but things will never, ever be the same.

All signs of the old divas, in their brightly colored spandex and perfectly coiffed hair, were gone. The determined looks of intensity on their faces said they meant business, and no one doubted it, as they allowed the words of the song to sink into the atmosphere.

"I'm sorry," Trish stated as the girls in the ring turned to stare at her while the music faded. Most of them looked confused, a couple angry that she had stolen their spotlight. "Did you just say that you were gonna give these girls a chance to show how their moves in the ring?" Coach nodded and said something that Trish didn't quite catch, or care about. "Oh, well, Coach, I think we can help you with that."

The Women's Champion and her fellow revolutionaries moved toward the ring, as though they were smelling the fear on the new recruits. Victoria snarled like a muzzled dog, and Lita smiled a cool, sadistic grin. Trish was still holding the mic when they approached the ring and Coach held his hand up.

"Now just a minute, Stratus," he started as all three women jumped onto the apron in perfect sync. "This has nothing to do with you. This is the Diva Search," he reminded.

Ducking under the top rope, Trish stood just a few feet away from Coach. He could straighten up and pretend that he wasn't intimidated, but Trish knew the truth. She could see it in his eyes. He knew what she was capable of. He had seen what she had done to Carlito a week earlier. And he was afraid.

"You're right, Coach," Trish nodded, pushing him out of the way. Victoria grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him out of the ring. The proverbial line in the sand had been drawn – three wannabe divas on one side, and three established wrestlers on the other. "He's right," she pointed with her thumb to where Coach gripped his knee on the floor. "This doesn't have anything to do with me. With us.

"Because this is not what we are about," she tapped one of the girls, a plastic-looking brunette with too much collagen in her lips, on the shoulder. "You wanna be a diva in this business, ladies? You better start learning how to fight."

Without warning, Lita and Victoria lunged for the girls on the outside, knocking them to the ground and directing their punches straight to the heavily-made-up faces of the contestants. Trish, however, waited. Giving her adversary a smirk, she raised the microphone to her lips. "You want to show your moves in the ring?" She held her arms out at her sides. "I'm right here, baby. You wanna prove yourself? I'm givin' you the first shot." She tapped her own cheek with her finger and waited.

The girl across from her sneered, her dark hair swishing as she shook her head. "I don't have to prove anything to you," she insisted.

Trish turned her face to the television camera behind her and raised an eyebrow, returning her attention to the girl. "I gave you a freebie," she warned, drawing back her arm and sinking a fist into the model's nose. Blood started flowing before her little body fell to the mat.

Pulling Victoria and Lita off their bruised "opponents," Trish turned back to the camera, a satisfied grin on her flawless face. "Oops. Vince, it looks like the Diva Search is over." She motioned over her shoulder and the camera man panned over to the carnage in the ring. None of the girls moved, only laid on the mat, groaning.

She turned and slid out of the ring, backing up the ramp, only to stop in front of another camera. Pointing to Victoria and Lita, she spread her arms and winked. "Looks like we're all you got now, Vince."