Authors Note - crazybutcute20 thanks again for your comments. I'm glad you like what I write. Little-miss-rachel thank you so much for your kind words, you really made my day. I hope you guys like this chapter. As always, I own nothing and no-one.
"One…two…three!"
"Here is your winner, and still the WWE Women's Champion - Mickie James!"
Shut your pie hole Garcia. Groaning inwardly, Trish carefully opened one eye, just in time to see the retaining Champion parading around the ring with the title belt. Grunting in frustration, Trish could feel the begins of a throbbing sensation in the back of her neck. With an annoying critique, Trish could tell you why she had lost the match tonight. Yes, technically she had been caught off guard by one of those punishing Mickie-DT's, which few people could just get up and walk away from, but it was Trish's own lack of focus that had finished her off. Her mind had been far too preoccupied with why Randy hadn't made an appearance with her undergarment. Having waited all afternoon in the locker room, instead of prepping for an important match, she had sat there and Orton didn't make an appearance. And now, here she was on the losing end of her match. Groaning, the diva rolled off her back and onto her front, resting all her weight on her elbows and knees. Trish had failed to capture the belt again, and she very much doubted she'd get another shot anytime soon. Now, alone in the ring, all she could do was muse on her defeat…wait…alone? Shouldn't there be a referee checking on me right now?
A quick glance through the ropes, and Trish could see Charles Robinson, making a hasty retreat down the steps, before coming to a rest in the little space occupied by Raw's announcers. Her brow furrowed in concentration, Trish turned to the entrance ramp, the music which had been playing all the while had now become apparent. It was like a fight-song to an American Football game, albeit with a deliberate camp twist. Noting the flashes of green and white all around her with a more than just a little disdain, Trish knew she had been joined by Johnny, Kenny, Mikey, Nicky and Mitch. And they are…the Spirit Squad. Dancing all around her, Trish made an attempt to ease herself unnoticed out of the ring. It seemed that the 'Squad' had other ideas, with Mikey becoming an imposing block of Trish's exit route. Stepping backwards, she collided with Johnny, who had been leering behind her.
"Hey Trish, you don't need to go," came the mocking tone of Kenny, the youngest and perhaps most arrogant member of the Spirit Squad, "stay and hang with us. Tough break on your match by the way. Still, you have it your all. Who wouldn't be impressed by that. You got to come out here on Monday Night Raw and do your thing. Not like us. You see, whilst you were out here getting your sweet ass kicked, the Squad was stuck backstage, not being booked for tonight's event. The World Tag Team Champions, left sitting around in favour of the former Women's Champion. Does that seem fair to you Trish?"
Kenny stepped forward, extending the microphone towards Trish's lips, seemingly wanting a reply. Eyes darting from side to side, Trish knew she was surrounded by all five men, and the worst thing she could do right now was let her mouth get the best of her. Clamping her jaw firmly shut, she simply kept her eyes focused on Kenny.
"What…no comment Trish? No witty remark? That's not like you. Anyone else in your position would use this time to make fun of this team, to try and humiliate us. Well I'm sick of it! I'm suck of people disrespecting us! We are the World Tag Team Champions dammit, and we demand respect!" The resounding chorus of boos to Kenny's comments only seemed to strengthen his resolve. "We demand respect Trish, and you're going to help us get it. Everyone in the back and watching at home, this is what you get, when you don't respect the Squad!"
Opening her mouth to protest, Trish's world was violently turned upside down as Johnny gripped her slender waist, heaving her backwards into a vicious backdrop. All the air was forced out of Trish's lungs upon impact, with no way to mouth some kind of defence. Not that she could have, the look in the eyes of all five members slightly terrified her. Feeling two hands grip the locks of her platinum hair, Trish felt herself being dragged upwards by it. Nicky shoved her head into a face lock, before performing a snap-suplex, slamming Trish pelvis first into the ground. Instinctively, Trish arched her back, her hands clambering at the lower portion, wanting to ease the burning sensation in her lower spine. In this short amount of time, Kenny had scaled to the top rope of the opposite ring post, with grounded members all beginning to jeer the defenceless diva. An explosion of mixed cheers reverberated around Trish's head, bringing her from the dream-like state the pain had left her in. Rolling her head to the side, Trish had done so in time to see Kenny flying through the air. Wincing, Trish prepared herself for the crushing leg drop she knew was coming.
But it never came.
Flashing both eyes open, Trish saw Kenny crash shoulder first into the mat on the other side of her. Wondering if he had over shot, Trish looked back to where the flying Squad member had come from, and wished she hadn't looked at all. Stepping through the middle rope, still dressed in a crisp blue shirt and dress pants was Randy Orton. Spurred into action, the 'Legend Killer' levelled Nicky with a picture perfect standing drop kick. Both feet crashed into the jaw of the cheerleader, sending him toppling through the ropes to the outside. Back to his feet in a second, Orton side-stepped the charging Mikey, who ended up sailing over the top rope to the hard cement floor below. A swift kick to the gut stopped Mitch in his tracks, before Randy grabbed him by the back of the head and slung him over the top rope to join his beaten team mates. Johnny tried to capitalise on Orton's distraction, landing a barrage of right hands into Orton's back. Fighting back, trading blow for blow, Randy easily got the best of his opponent, and brought Johnny down with great force, courtesy of stinging clothesline to the throat. Clutching his neck, Johnny rolled beneath the bottom rope coughing and choking all the way. Turning back, a mischievous smile covered Randy's mouth, both icy blue eyes glinting with a blood lust. Dropping into a crouched position, Orton began to stalk his prey in the form of the groggy Kenny, who was just about getting back to his feet. The crowd reached a fever pitch as Kenny turned back around, only to be met with a crushing RKO. Kenny became limp on impact, and saved by the Squad, who reached beneath the ropes to rescue him. The five beaten men began to back their way up the ramp, jeering at Orton, swearing revenge, who merely stood tall in the ring, staring them down.
Turning his attention behind him, Randy made his way over to Trish, who was pitifully trying to get back to her feet. Using the ropes as a stable object to pull herself up, the Canadian blonde couldn't help but falter on her feet. Instantly, Randy was there to catch the falling Trish, who's head fell to a rest against Randy's chest. Defiant as ever, Trish gritted her teeth, working hard to free herself from the frame of Orton's support. It was futile attempt, as Orton held her tighter to his own body.
"I got you baby girl. Relax."
"I…don't need…your help Randy…"
"Your legs say otherwise. Just don't be passing out on me again…Trish?" Pain and exhaustion had taken their hold of the blonde woman in his arms, who was in no lucid state to argue. Gently, Randy scooped the unconscious Stratus into his arms, before exiting the ring, much to the bewilderment of the crowd.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When Trish finally regained her senses, she found herself flat on her back in the cold trainers' room. In the corner, the trainer Earl was busily preparing an ice pack. The large man tottered his way across the room to the clinical bed on which the diva was laying on. Trish gladly accepted the ice, easing it behind her stiff neck.
"Randy..?"
"Right here baby girl." With the nerves in her neck screaming at her to keep still, Trish craned her head so she could see the corner from which Randy's voice came from. And there he was. Resting comfortably against cupboard, smiling in that inherently arrogant way as he always did.
"Now I hate to be demanding, but would you please tell me what the hell you thought you were doing out there?" Trish did her best to glare, but even found that eye statement much too taxing on her exhausted body.
"Gratitude baby. I just saved that fine ass of yours out there." Randy made obvious emphasis on the mention of Trish's rear, the glint in his eyes giving subtle hints to his desire.
"Why? Out of the kindness of your heart?" The mocking tone was both obvious and presented to provide a challenge. Randy however, didn't bight.
"What else baby?" Already, the easy smile presented itself on Orton's lips.
"I don't know. Try out of the hardness in your pants," Trish snorted in reply, "and I already know how you played this little scenario out in your twisted little mind. You thought you could flirt with me a little, try and embarrass me and giggle like some naïve, virgin school girl, before making the apparent save just so you could make me open to the idea of sucking on your -…"
"Trish baby. Why do you assume its all about you," Randy cut her off as he stepped up from leaning on the cupboard, making his way across the room towards Trish, reaching into the back pocket of his pants, " you ever think that maybe I just don't like the Spirit Boys?" Randy's lips were dangerously close to Trish's. The hot waves of his breath caressed their way across her lips, making them tingle as a pleasurable result. Fighting off the urge to grab his head and ravish his mouth, Trish resigned herself to being passive. Gently, she tilted her head upwards, giving Randy such easy access to her lips. The thought clearly crossed his mind, as his tongue snaked across his own lower lips, fighting against the temptation presented to him.
"Stay beautiful baby girl." Breaking the moment all at once, Randy stepped back, leaving the room. Trish craved the feeling of him being close to her again, but it was lost as he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. However he did leave a little something for Trish to remember him by. Glancing down onto her chest, Trish sighed as she noted the neatly folded bra resting on there.
The voice outside distracted her soon enough.
"Where is she?" Less than a second later, the large form of John Cena crashed into view, with his steely blue eyes scanning all around. Resting on Trish's petit form, the softened, filling with heartfelt concern.
"You okay girl?"
"I'm alright. More humiliated than anything else." Trish admitted to her friend, glad that he was here. She really didn't feel like being alone for some reason.
"You takin' care of my girl here Earl?" The nod he received seemed to settle John's concerns, "What you got to be humiliated about anyway? There were five of those assholes. Ganging up on a five-foot-four girl. Fucking cowards!" The final statement was met with Cena ramming his fist into the nearest cupboard, denting the door considerably in the process.
"Excuse me? A five-foot-four girl?" was Trish's indignant reply
"Ah don't go all girl-power and shit on me Trisha. You know you couldn't have taken 'em." John gazed down at his friend, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. In truth, he loved her spunky independent attitude, the fact that her spirit was seemingly unbreakable by anything, even being outmatched by five men.
"In case you didn't notice, I didn't have to. Orton got his butt involved." Resting her hands on her stomach, the statement seemed even more ludicrous when Trish said it aloud.
"Yeah, I saw that. Why would Randy Orton come down to save you?" Suddenly, a shadow of a sceptical look crossed John's face.
"Maybe because no-one else did." Trish giggled, throwing a friendly punch into Cena's arm. "Doesn't matter anyway. Just take me back to my hotel room okay? I really need a bath to loosen up my neck." Obliging, John dipped down, helping Trish back to her feet, before steadying her way to the door. Following Trish out of the room, both were thoughtful on just what Randy Orton was up to.