" Y O U' R E
N O T H I N G. "

- -

The Lass Kicker walks into the night's venue in Florida with a smile on her face and an extra pep to her step. In just a few more weeks, she'll be living the dream in her first ever Wrestlemania.

"Becca."

Paige greets with a cheeky wink.

"Raya."

Says the eager Irish lass who shares a chuckle with the enchanting raven-haired goth ; the two going way back to the days when they went under the names of Britani Knight and Rebecca Quinn.

Ah the good times.

"Did someone get frisky with Fergal last night?"

Saraya asks. Becky stops in her motion and faces her British friend with wide eyes. "What?" Becky gasps.

"Well it's just you're so eager this morning."
"I'm always cheerful!"
"But today you're extra peppy."
"Ugh Raya, NO! How many times do I have to tell you that Fergal and I are only FRIENDS?"

Paige rolls her eyes and breathes out. "Why would you even say that?" Becky whispers as she defensively crosses her arms. "It's what people are saying." The Brit informs.

"Rumor has it you & fergal went out on a date last night, and he was ALL smiles." Paige informs as Becky pouts. Considering all the times Rebecca's kept the Brit out of trouble and with a stomach aching from all their goofy shenanigans, the Brit places her hand on the Irish Lass's shoulder and sighs.

"But they're just rumors, so if anyone gives you shit, I'll give them hell." The goth smiles as Becky shrugs. "Fine." She says, dismissing everything and walking besides the Anti-Diva.

The two are near the Divas Locker Room when they're called by WWE Producer Michael Hayes. Paige and Becky both glance at one another with raised brows, a slight anxiety building in the two as they walk behind him.

Being called to a meeting before a show is NEVER good. Chances are you've been taken off the card, or worse.

"Sit."

Michael says. The two women take a seat besides one another for comfort. Yet, all of that comfort fades when not Hunter or Stephanie walks in, but Vincent Kennedy McMahon himself.

"We're fucked."

Paige's eyes say when she turns to the Lass Kicker who even regulates her breath as if not to disturb the out of touch McMahon.

"Which one of you is facing Charlotte at Wrestlemania again?"

Vince asks, never looking up at them as he skims through some files.

"That would be Sasha & I." Becky says, her voice void of confidence. "Sasha & I? What a peculiar name." Vince sarcastically says.

Becky gently kicks the Brit's Doc Martens under the table, or so she thinks until Vince looks up with a frown. "Did you just kick me?" He directs at Becky as she widens her eyes and gasps.

"Sorry!"
"Leg spasms ... scoliosis ... " Paige says with a sheepish smile. The old man glares at Paige while she remains confident, her eyes glaring back at him even though she's probably dying on the inside.

"And you are?"

He asks the Brit.

"Paige."

The Anti-Diva says non too enthusiastically.

"Ah yes the goth one."

He says, pushing the Brit's buttons as she simpley smiles. "And you're the All Red Everything one, right? What kind of a stupid motto is that?" Vince says as he now averts his eyes to Becky.

"No."

Becky whispers.

"No?"
"No what?"

Vince questions.

Becky breathes out and takes a page from the Brit's book, faking the confidence as she speaks up.

"No, I'm not the "All Red Everything Diva" Becky says with air quotes. "That's Eva Marie, and I'm Becky Lynch, the Irish Lass Kicker."

Paige turns to face Becky with a reassuring smile as her words come across confidence.

"Well."

Vince says after an eternity. "An orange haired gal and a red haired gal ... that's kinda confusing, don't you think?" He asks.

"It's magenta."

Becky clarifies as Paige smirks.

"Excuse me?"

"Sasha's hair color is magenta, not red." Rebecca says as Vince picks up a glass of water besides him and sips on it.

The Brit bites her lower lip to refrain from laughing. She secretly hopes for the old man to choke on it and gag to death.

"Becky, right?"

"Y-yes."

"You're the underdog right? Never held the NXT Women's Championship, and now you've just recently been put into the title picture."

When Becky nods, Vince cynically grins.

"So what's another year gone by without a Wrestlemania moment for you?"

He says.

"W-well sir." Becky says, finding herself at a loss for words as Vince shuts the manila folder in front of him. "Tell you what Becky" Vince says as he stands up from his chair.

"You just don't fit in this match. Sasha's the dynamite and Charlotte's the champion. Quite frankly, you're ... nothing." Vince shrugs as he stands up and leaves his office.

When the door shuts behind the two, Becky slumps in her chair.

Her eyes fill up with tears and her bottom lip quivers as she folds her arms to refrain from full on crying.

"I'm the fire."

Becky whispers before she gives into sobbing when the Brit hugs her from behind.

"Don't listen to him Becky. He's full of shit. You're nothing but fire." Paige assures as her friend bawls onto her shoulder.

"B-but he said I'm nothing."

"He's insane Bex! That match won't be anything without you! Heck, the minute the fans find out, they will boycott the same way they boycotted for Daniel Bryan to be Champion, you'll see." Paige says.

At the realization of her words, Becky only sobs harder.

"I won't be in Wrestlemania ... my moment's stolen." Becky whimpers as she stands up and storms out the office with her dreams and hopes broken so shattered that maybe the sight of the bottom of a liquor bottle could be the only thing that takes the pain away and leaves her feeling

nothing.

She wants to feel nothing.

◭ ◮ ◭ ◮ ◭ ◮
AUTHOR'S NOTES

taking an interesting turn of events here. i'm so conflicted about vince because he did produce some great wrestlers/ moments, but then again

cesaro, cm punk, tyler breeze, mickie james , christian, lita, daniel bryan, etc.

(just a few of amazing talented wrestlers he REFUSED to believe in and always proved him wrong)

my recent dislike for vince has sparked me to write this chapter because I can so see him being condescending asf to the women's roster.

will becky get her wm moment?

x o , v i o l e t .