Uncommon Sense Chapter 4

By Batistafan

Rating - NC-17 for violence

Distribution: If you would like to add this story to your site that's fine, just let me know.

Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers. This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not be deemed appropriate for all readers.

I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.

I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim to them as they are property of their respective companies of license. Thank you kindly for not suing.

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"It hurts to find out that what you wanted doesn't match what you dreamed it would be."

Randy K. Milholland, Something Positive Comic, 09-07-04

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Dave Batista sat alone in the dressing room, carefully taping his wrists and two knuckles and cherishing the much needed peace and quiet in his time away from Christy Hemme. Had there not been separate facilities for men and women in the restaurants and shopping malls they had visited in the past two days, he felt certain he would have had to piss with her standing right there. Christy Hemme was beautiful and sensual…just what he should have wanted. Having her on his arm could make any man or woman jealous, but it was a little bit like being attached at the hip to a 110 pound, chattering Pez Doll with boobs. He laughed at the image as it played across the window of his mind. It was the first real laugh, he realized…in weeks.

Dave secured the tape and then bit into the strip with his whiter than white teeth, snapping it off. He tossed the roll carelessly toward his bag, oblivious that it had missed and was currently rolling under a bench and would likely be forgotten. Standing, he began to shake out the muscles of his arms and legs, stretching and warming up for his match tonight with Shelton Benjamin. It was a title match, but a house show, so the title was not scheduled to change hands.

Dave, as well as many of the others on the roster liked the format of house shows much better than that of live taped events and pay-per-views. The atmosphere was much more laid back with noticeably less stress. There was no Eric Bischoff in some of the house shows, no Diva Search Competition events, even if the hopefuls were still bouncing around somewhere in the arena trying to find someone to impress. And then of course, there was the ability to mingle with fans while in the course of a match, which of course was a huge 'No…no' during a live RAW event. There was even more time…he hoped…to get to know the staff. They were the pillar and posts that held up the entity of RAW and sadly they were the most neglected and unknown of all the WWE's employees.

"Dave?" John Cena held open the door slightly as he tried to enter the dressing room, still cleverly managing to block the view of anyone standing in the hallway. "Christy's waitin' on you, man." He then passed and disappeared toward the back of the dressing room, as Dave nodded and grumbled out an obligatory "Thanks."

Dave suppressed a groan of frustration and continued to warm up. He freely let the invasive image of the big-breasted Christy Pez Doll, with a dialogue balloon above its head filled with 'Blah, Blah, Blahs', enter into his mind's eye. Something about the image fit her so well that he began to laugh again, first a snicker and then a full belly laugh that could be heard clearly by anyone close enough to the dressing room.

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After managing to heft the trunk and other equally wet supplies into the makeshift 'Wardrobe' area, Nancy and Max began working on the numerous requests for repair of clothing malfunctions. This arena had no dedicated room for which to set up the sewing- machines and other equipment, but the arena managers had been kind enough to clear out a hallway close to the administration offices and block it off with black curtains, making a very large makeshift room. They strung extension cords under the curtains into one of the, now vacant for the day, offices, so they could plug in the machines.

The hallway's overhead fluorescents, though stark and glaring, gave adequate light and even though you could hear every event transpiring out in the world of RAW…this was good enough for Nancy and Max. The odd pair had worked in worse places, in tighter quarters with broken machines and missing supplies and had always been able to make due. She and Max began hanging up several of the costumes and rummaging around for the iron so that they could press anything that needed pressing.

"Aha! Here it is, but I need water for steam." Max said reverentially, stumbling over a pile of neatly twisted cords, holding up the iron he had just found as if he'd just unearthed the Holy Grail.

"I'm sure there's a bathroom around here somewhere…I'll get you some." Nancy responded, laying a spool of grey thread on the table beside the sewing machine. She backed out from between the slit in the curtains, but before she could turn around and face forward, she backed directly into someone.

"Still having trouble watching where you're going, I see." The voice was laden with a peevish lilt, and Nancy knew exactly who it was in an instant.

She turned around to face Christy Hemme. Nodding her head slightly as if she knew what to expect, she saluted the Diva in mock sarcasm. "Hi Christy." Nancy said flatly, as she pulled her hand down sharply from the salute and crooked one eyebrow.

Christy didn't find the gesture funny in the slightest as she shifted her slight weight from one foot to the other.

"You know…I finally figured out what it is you actually do here in the WWE." Christy's words were laced with feigned interest, and the almost imperceptible hiss of a lisp from the invisalign braces on her teeth.

Nancy waited without responding knowing that anything she said would only make the situation worse. Christy hated her. It was apparent, and the less friction Nancy caused the better. With Bischoff already gunning for her, it was best if she simply flew under the radar and kept to her own.

"You sew on a button here and there, make a bathing suit now and then, but mostly you just wreak holy-havoc on everyone else's time schedule, hmm?" Christy spat venom with her words, even though her voice was never raised. "I mean…if you're not ruining someone's wardrobe and causing them to be late for after-show engagements, then you're showing up late for house shows and people can't even get their wardrobe fixed."

Nancy bit her lip to stifle an equally scathing retort and let Christy continue on her tirade, she surmised that like a hurricane…once Christy passed it would be at least a little while before disaster struck again.

"Stitch this shit up…" Christy slapped a red button-up shirt against Nancy's chest. "It won't stay buttoned in the front and I'm tired of having to use safety pins to hold it shut."

Nancy didn't bother to tell her that it might help if she would quit buying shirts from the 'Junior's' section of the stores she shopped in, but she kept quiet.

"Just sew it up from the bottom to about the third button down, and I'll just slip it over my head."

Again Nancy stopped just short of explaining that there was no way in hell she was going to get the shirt on over her head without either splitting the new seam or causing the fabric to pucker so badly between her 'new' breasts that it would make her look more tawdry than she usually did.

"That is if you can find the time…between your coffee breaks and banker's hours."

Nancy could detect the slightest hint of an incipient sneer, as Christy spun on her heel, and stalked around the corner. She was left holding the red shirt and masking her fury behind a tight-lipped smile.

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Christy had barely rounded the corner, her heels clicking like mad on the highly polished arena floor, when a large hand snaked out of the shadows and tugged her arm gently, pulling her to within a few feet of him.

"Why do you do that?" Dave Batista asked calmly, smoothly as he pulled Christy to the side of the hallway out of earshot of everyone else.

"Do what?" Her irritation was clearly evident.

"Do that…" He said hitching his thumb in the other direction to indicate what had just happened around the corner. "You don't have to be hateful to her." He watched as Christy knitted her brows together.

"Dave, all I did was state the facts." She declared plainly. "If she can't handle someone telling her 'how it is', then maybe she needs to find another job."

"Oh, and no doubt, you're gonna tell her 'how it is', right?" He said furrowing his brows. "Did you ever think that maybe you'd get further with people if you didn't bite everybody's head off whenever you're pissed?"

Christy shrugged his hand off of her arm and scowled. "I had to wear a second rate outfit on our date last week, because of her clumsiness, and now I have to wear a second rate outfit tonight because she can't make it to a show on time!" She gestured angrily with her hands. "Now you tell me what kind of example she's setting for everyone else on the payroll." She studied his expression for a moment unable to put her finger on the meaning of the expression behind his eyes. She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips in perplexity. "Why are you defending her?" Her voice fell from its high pitch of angst to a less threatening, more probing octave.

"I have a match…I better get going." Dave pivoted on his heel to leave, unable to answer her question. To be clearly honest, he had no idea why he was defending the woman…he didn't know her…didn't have any attachments to her. Maybe it was because in the short time since his divorce, he had become all too familiar with the sting of Christy's tongue and between all of the waitresses and bartender's he'd had to over-tip to compensate for her acid-mouth, he felt a certain pity for this woman, too. That must be it.

"Listen…look, I'm sorry…" Christy said, drawing her husky voice back up to the chilling whine he had come to dread. "I'll apologize to her here in a minute if it'll make you feel better, okay?" She softened a bit.

"Don't do anything on my account." Dave said with a huff, drawing his brows together. "Especially if you don't mean it."

"I'll mean it…I was just irritated, that's all." She pulled his arm toward her and looped it around the small of her back, pulling him into an embrace.

"I have to go." Dave said softly, trying to pull back.

"Not until you tell me what you have planned for our time in Puerto Rico this month." She teased and rubbed her finger down the front of his bare chest, still holding his arm against her back with her other arm. He was, by all rights, trapped.

He knew she was referring to the pay-per-view that was fast approaching, but he had already made arrangements with his ex-wife to fly his daughters to the show and spend some much needed time with them afterwards. There would be no room for Christy in those arrangements.

"Uh, that's something we need to talk about." Dave saw no sense in putting it off until after the show. "I spoke with my ex today and made plans to have my girls for five days, straight through the pay-per-view and Raw. They fly back home on Thursday, of that week."

"So, we'll just have to sneak off in the night for a little rendezvous." Christy cooed, smiling and rocking back and forth slowly in his lethargic embrace.

Dave wondered if she would fall flat on the floor if he suddenly let go, and then the image of the Christy Pez doing a backward Nestea Plunge interloped into his thoughts and he found himself smiling.

"Not exactly…" He responded, straightened up completely and disentangled himself as politely as possibly from her grasp. "I can't have you there with my daughters. I made an agreement with my ex that I wouldn't expose them to anyone right now…they're not ready, yet."

"Well, we gotta do what's best for the kiddies, right?" Something about the way she said those words made her seem detached and unloving, threatening even…in a way that only a loving parent would be able to sense.

"I have that match…" He said biting and then releasing his bottom lip. He turned and walked away from her without another word, leaving a very curious and slightly irked Diva in his wake.