Blaze of Glory

A/N: Okay, so there was only going to be two more chapters to this story, but now I'm thinking there might be three. I'm not sure if I'm going to follow the original outline for the story, or if I'm going to add an unplanned chapter. Anyway, you guys probably don't care, do you? Alright, so I'm tired of trying to think of new ways to disclaim, so that's it - I disclaim. Enjoy!

That mother fucker broke my ankle, Trish thought as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to rub the tender muscle where Kurt Angle had forced her submissionwith the infamous Ankle Lock. She could feel the blood rushing to her leg, swelling beneath her boot when she pulled herself up on the ropes and draped her arm around the referee's shoulder.

Wrestlemania was in six days, she still didn't have a match on the card, and now she was going to be out of commission again. Of course, she didn't know that her ankle was broken, but she knew the chances were better than 50-50 that she would be on the injured reserves yet again once the X-rays came back. Way to show Vince who's boss, Stratus, she scolded herself as she hobbled to the opposite side of the ring.

Mike Chioda held the ropes for her, and Trish was about to duck onto the apron when his music hit and Vince "power-walked" his way to the top of the ramp. The arena, normally filled with cheers at a rare glimpse of the CEO, thundered with "boos" and "You Suck" chants. That reaction alone was enough to diminish the pain a little bit.

Withdrawing her arm from the ref's shoulder, she clutched the ropes and tried to rotate her ankle again. She was pissed at herself for tapping, throbbing with pain in her Chick-Kicking leg, and in no mood to face off with the Chairman. The knowing smirk on his face was enough to send the adrenaline surging through her body, though, fooling her into thinking that she was ready to fight again. Maybe her leg was fucked up, but her fists felt fine. She could lay him out with one punch, if she focused and threw her shoulder into it.

Vince drank in the sounds of the crowd. So what if he was the heel in this situation? Hadn't numbers shown, in the past, that he always made more money with the fans hated him? He looked Trish over, her angry scowl entertaining him to no end. "You okay there, Trish?" he asked, no concern in his voice.

She rolled her eyes and turned for a moment, motioning for Lillian to bring her the microphone. With a bored shrug, she rested her weight against the ropes and looked from the crowd to her boss. "You have somethin' to say, Vince? Or you just miss the glare of the lights and the sounds of the crowd?"

His smile vanished immediately. "I do have something to say, Trish. The new numbers are in from the Royal Rumble. And the quarterly ratings figures from this show, from RAW," he nodded toward her. "And, as much as it pains me to say it, I think you were right."

She had a theory about the men in this business. Any time they paid her a compliment they wanted only one thing: Her on her knees. Whether literally or figuratively, they always wanted to be sucked off, and she was only interested in giving one of them that satisfaction. And that one wasn't Vincent Kennedy McMahon. "I have been known to be right from time to time, Vince," she stated, biting back all of the venom she wanted to spew his direction.

He nodded in concession. "You and your friends have been quite the hit as of late, and it's been good for business, whether I like it or not," he admitted. "And if I've learned anything over the years, building a billion-dollar company, it is that you give the people what they want. No, wait," he held up a hand and shook his head. "You give the people what they will pay for. And what these people will pay for, they proved at the Royal Rumble, is the chance to see some women wrestle.

"And since you've been raising up an army," he narrowed his eyes toward her, waiting for a reaction. She gave him none. "I've decided to give you a match at Wrestlemania."

How generous, she thought, noting that the pain was quickly escaping her ankle and moving into her head. He was playing her, and everyone in that arena knew it. Victoria had convinced her to start training the other girls for ring action after the Rumble, and every one of them, without question, had agreed to join the revolution. They knew it was something with the ability to become historic, and they all wanted to jump on board.

"At Wrestlemania," he spoke with an evil, knowing tone, "you will defend your Woman's Championship, Trish, against every diva in that locker room. You will put it all on the line in the first ever," he paused for dramatic effect, and then Trish noticed the wild look in his eyes, "Divas Ladder Match."

A smile tweaked her lips. A Ladder Match was serious. It was a men's match, normally. If he was willing to give them that kind of exposure, maybe he really was starting to take them seriously. Maybe he really was starting to get it. And maybe all of her risks were really making a difference.

"And I don't even get a thank you?" Vince asked, his tone astounded.

Trish shrugged, ready to push him over the line for good. "For what? Giving us what we've deserved for years? Sure," she nodded. "Thanks for finally pulling your head out of your ass and noticing what everyone else has known for awhile, Vince. Gold star effort, man," she held up a thumb and noted that the proverbial steam was starting to seep out of his ears.

"I can't wait to watch you lose that title," he hissed into the microphone.

Trish held her belt up and raised her own microphone to her lips. "You think that's gonna stop me, Vince? You think taking this belt away is gonna settle everything? That I'll just shut up and go away?" She laughed, and then dropped the grin. "This is not about championships for me, Vince. If it was, I would have kept my mouth shut and you probably would have never booked a title defense in the first place. Hell, I could have retired with this thing, if it was just about the belt.

"You can't beat me that easily, Vince. This is about business for you – but it's about pride for me. It's about making an impact for all of those woman who will come after me. It's about going down in history as the most bad-ass, toughest, smartest, greatest female wrestler in the business." The fans swelled to an insane decibel, and Trish waited for them to die down before continuing. "What I do in this ring is not about today. One day, Vince, your empire will crumble and fade. But the legacy that I'm building? That will last forever."

When he bit his lip and met her eye, she knew that she had said too much. Or she had said the wrong thing. Vince was about to make an impact of his own, and she knew she wasn't going to like it. "Are you willing to forfeit your title right now? In order to cement your legacy?"

She hesitated for only a moment, the disconnected ideas in her head starting to fit together. She threw the belt over the top rope and listened to it 'clang' against the floor, her eyes never leaving Vince. "I'll give up my title, Vince. But I want something in return," she raised an eyebrow in defiance.

He gave a half-laugh. "What?"

"You." The crowd went crazy at Trish's answer, and the scoffing look of disbelief on Vince's face. "I want you, in this ring, Vince. I wanna show you what I can really do. I wanna show you that I am not the girl you once collared and leashed, and forced to bark on her hands and knees, not so long ago. I want to show you who Trish Stratus really is, Vince. And I wanna do it in a Last Man Standing match at Wrestlemania."

He seemed curious, but shook his head. "I don't think so, Trish."

"What'sa matter, Vince? Scared?" she taunted.

"I'm not scared, you disrespectful little bitch," he spat. "I'm smart." Regaining his composure, he straightened his jacket collar and cleared his throat. "I know that you could beat me, Trish. It wouldn't be much of a contest. Hell, I'm over sixty years old. What's that going to prove?" The Cheshire cat-like grin that covered his face made her heart drop into her shoes. "I'll make you a deal. I have one brand champion who hasn't signed his contract for Wrestlemania yet. One man who is guaranteed a headlining match – and I'm going to let him have that match against you."

"It's you or nothing," she demanded, shaking her head.

But Vince had already taken her idea and was running with it. "It's a chance to headline Wrestlemania, Trish. You want to prove yourself? You wanna ensure your legacy in this business? You wanna prove you can be the last man standing?" He watched the conflict on her face with great joy. "Come on, Trish. How can you really prove yourself as a legend in this business if you never go face-to-face, hand-to-hand, blow-to-crushing blow with the Legend Killer?"

If she said "yes," the entire future of her personal life could be ruined. But if she said "no," her professional future was doomed, for sure. In a moment she would second-guess a million times, she nodded and didn't try to mask her disgust. "I'll do it."

The crowd at in uncertain silence, unsure of whether they should be happy or not. "We'll do the contract signing on Thursday's Smackdown," Vince said happily, his music playing again as he turned his back.

But Trish was not about to let Vince have the last word. "Wait a minute!" He turned, his eyebrow raised in interest. "I don't want his belt," she stated. "When I win, you hire at least three new female wrestlers, and you push the Women's Division just like you push any of the guys."

He nodded. "Sure. And when you lose," he snickered at his own genius, "you retire. For good."

Trish took a deep breath. Who the hell did she think she was? There were not enough words to describe how bad of an idea this was. From a professional stand point, Randy was a foot taller than her, and almost a hundred pounds heavier. Not to mention the fact that he had been through more than one hardcore match in his career. He had enough power in his weak arm to knock her unconscious, if he wanted to.

But he wouldn't want to. And she knew that she couldn't stand across the ring from the man that she loved and want to beat him, either. Trish Stratus vs. Randy Orton in a Last Man Standing match at Wrestlemania would be one for the ages, win or lose. And, she decided in that moment, it would be her last.