Hey everyone. I know I said there probably wouldn't be anything new from me for the wrestling section until the Summer, but you know me…
I've decided to start this new fic early, lol. I mean, I was just sitting around and this idea has been in my head since the lottery draw. John Cena had motivated me to the point that I thought up this first chapter. I couldn't help myself, so here I am writing it, lol. Someone shoot me, because I can't stop.
Alright, here we go.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN WWE OR ANY OF THE PEOPLE ASSOCIATED WITH THE WWE. I DO NOT OWN VANILLA ICE, AND I AM ONLY JOKING WHEN I MAKE FUN OF HIM IN THIS STORY. PLEASE DO NOT BE OFFENDED. I LISTEN TO ICE ICE BABY ALL THE TIME. OH, I DON'T OWN HIM OR ANY OF HIS SONGS EITHER, ALTHOUGH I'M NOT USING HIM. UM…I THINK THAT'S IT. I THINK IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS TO ALL OF YOU THE THINGS THAT I DO NOT OWN, SO JUST READ THE DAMN STORY. THANK YOU.
Chapter One: Ladies and Gentlemen, It's the Amazing, Incredible, Intangible, and Utterly Invisible- Mackenzie Moore!! (crowd goes dead).
One hundred and ninety-five. It was the amount of money she opened her savings account with two years ago. It was the amount of her first speeding ticket when she was Seventeen. Today, it wasn't a matter a money. One hundred and Ninety five was the number the little tick on her scale was pointing toward.
Mackenzie stepped off the scale and looked in the mirror. Her WWE logo shirt covered her from head to waist. She was bare otherwise, save for her underwear covering, in her opinion, her very large ass. She was proportioned, at least. Or, that is how she comforted herself. One might guess that she was slightly overweight by looking at her, but one would never assume she was near the two hundred pound mark. It was times like this one that she felt utterly grateful she was five foot eight.
Sighing, she pulled her light brown hair into a sloppy half-bun atop her head. She frowned more intensely at the reflection staring back at her. Her eyes darted across her features in the mirror. Hazel eyes, slightly chubby cheeks, pink lips, flabby arms, slight love handles, and large thighs. Lord how she hated that reflection. How she loathed the way her disdain for her own appearance seemed to grow each year.
To her, all of these flaws were more than obvious, but to everyone around her they weren't exactly noticeable at all. Mackenzie was Mackenzie, and no one ever called her on the flaws she was always so quick to point out to herself. Of course, Mackenzie had never stopped to think that no one noticed everything she hated about herself, and clearly wasn't about to start thinking otherwise now. Besides, she wasn't one to gain a lot of attention from other people in any event. Either she was being ignored or she was subconsciously avoiding every other being on the planet.
"Hmm…" She sighed as she looked at the reflection again. She hadn't considered how much weight she had gained. She was forty pounds overweight, and now she was worried. She would die before she allowed herself to reach the two hundred mark, but she would have to worry about that later. She needed to get to the office for the production meeting. corporations like the WWE never slept, and neither could she.
Thirty minutes, two French vanilla cappuccino's, and a one extremely hot shower later, Mackenzie was seated opposite Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon and amongst all her other co-workers. While her boss continued to go over the plans for this month's live events and pay-per view, Mackenzie busied herself by absently twiddling her thumbs. Yes, this had become quite a productive past time for her. For, she had never known there were so many ways one could twiddle their fingers while listening to the same bland crap over and over again.
Of course, she already knew all of the pre-meeting discussions. She was just waiting for him to get the damn point already. She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard her name being barked from across the room. Her head shot up, "Excuse me?" she asked as she noticed all the other people in the room get up and take their leave.
Mr. McMahon gave her a stern, 'one more strike and you're out' look before repeating himself as he approached her, "I just stated that the meeting is over, but that you, Ms. Moore, will need to be at my office at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."
Mackenzie's eyes widened. Could this be what she thought it was? Was she going to get the position of executive editor for the WWE magazine she applied for? She gave a big smile and nodded, "Yes, sir. Ten o'clock sharp." She shot up, shook his hand and was about to take her leave, when he stopped her.
"One more thing, Mackenzie," Vince stated in a professional tone.
"Try not to twiddle your fingers during our meetings? Understood?" he smiled, knowingly.
Mackenzie felt her cheeks coloring at being caught not paying attention, "Yes Mr. McMahon. It won't happen again," she stated with her head bent slightly toward the ground and in a very soft, embarrassed tone.
"Good. Now, I'll see you Monday," Vince dismissed her.
She nodded and left the room. Happy that she might actually be getting the job she applied for last week. She was so elated, that she was practically bolting down the hall, not paying any attention. She soon regretted her lack of attention as she crashed into something large; something very, very large…and hard. She landed with a thud amongst all of her falling papers. When she finally looked up, she didn't see anything. She turned around to see Big Show, Paul White, walking away, shrugging at her with a smirk as he left her like a hit and run.
'Big Gorilla,' she sneered in her mind. She let out a sigh. Such was the norm when nobody gave a shit. Hell, she might as well be door; a door that people like to push open and break down. It was the story of her life. Of course, it's to be expected when you never retaliate or protest. Mackenzie never did any of those things. Oh, she wanted to, but the words just never came out until hours after the incident. Then she was really witty. She thought of all kinds of obscenities and phrases to protest with, but by then it was too late.
Deciding to pick up her junk, Mackenzie moved to her hands and knees and began to pick up the papers. Practically crawling all over the floor, gathering all the disoriented documents. She spotted the last one, and made her way to it's location. About to pick it up, she stopped suddenly, as a foot came down on the paper, preventing her from picking it up, lest she rip it all to Hell.
She looked up to see Rene Dupree and John Cena engrossed in a seemingly heated argument over something. Mackenzie let out an annoyed breath when she realized that these two over grown muscle machines had no idea that they were hampering her progress. She decided to wait it out, but after ten minutes, her patience was wearing thin, not to mention what dignity she had left.
Not only had she been rudely walked straight into by the Giant himself, but now she was being completely and utterly ignored again. Not by just one person, oh no, but TWO!! Oh, and to top it off, she couldn't get her damn paper back until Vanilla Ice moved his damn pumps! Thoroughly pissed, she shot up and faced the six foot plus something tall men and edgily, but politely attempted to interrupt them, "Excuse me, but you're standing on my papers."
Her statement went unheard, as the two continued to argue. Now that she was closer to them she could hear what they were arguing about. She expected it must be something important, her anger only grew when she heard a piece of the heated argument.
"Rene, how can you even compare Vanilla Ice to Eminem?" John sounded outraged.
"What do you mean? They're both whit-"
"Don't even go there, dude. Eminem actually has a message, you know? Vanilla Ice was just a poser," John explained.
Mackenzie started seeing red, but couldn't help to think how ironic it was that she had just compared the doctor of thuganomics to Vanilla Ice. She would have laughed if she weren't so damn annoyed. She tuned out the rest of their words, and tried again, "Excuse me," She said in a light, but clearly annoyed tone. Still, no acknowledgment. "Excuse me," she said again in the same tone. When they still didn't notice her, she shouted as loud as she could without sounding like a ban chi, "EXCUSE ME!!"
In unison, both men turned their heads and looked at her in surprise. There was a strange silence as Mackenzie started to lose her nerve. Great, just great. Right when she was about to give the two a thrashing, they have to go an intimidate her.
Finally, wanting to get back to proving his point, John addressed the somewhat familiar woman in front of him, "You need somethin'?"
Taking a breath, Mackenzie cleared her throat and in her most directly irritated tone, answered his question, "Could you please remover you foot from my paper?" He looked down, and when he complied, she bent down and picked up her paper, which now had a nice John Cena pump foot print stamped right down the center of it, "Thanks," her voiced dripped with sarcasm.
John smiled and shrugged, "Sorry, I didn't see it down there," he apologized.
"Yah, well you obviously didn't see me down there either," she snapped, uncertain of where she was getting all of this nerve. She supposed she owed the Big Show a debt of gratitude for his nonchalant way of pushing her to the floor without so much as one word of apology.
Rene shifted to his other foot, sensing the anger in the younger woman's features, "It was an accident. We didn't mean to get your paper all dirty, Ms…" he trailed off, not sure of her name.
Mackenzie picked up where he left off, "Ms. Moore. Mackenzie Moore."
"Oh, are you new here?" Rene, the young and naïve man asked, not having seen her, or in this case, noticed her before.
Mackenzie gritted her teeth, "No, I'm NOT new. I've been with the WWE for two years now. Of course, I'm on the production team, so I don't supposed you'd recognize me," she didn't mean for it to sound so mean, but she just was not in the mood.
John's head popped up, as if his light bulb had just come on, "I knew you looked familiar. You're at all the autograph signings, right? Yeah, you always stand behind the tables and take notes. I always wondered what you were writin'."
Mackenzie blinked in surprise. He recognized her, but more than that, someone had noticed her before now? Dumbfounded, she responded, "Uh…yah. That's me."
Rene, picking up where John left off, "So, what do you write in all of those little notebooks?"
"Huh?" she responded, still thinking about her new feeling of tangibility. She regained her composure when she noticed the searching expressions on the two faces in front of her. Right before Rene was about to re-ask his question, she snapped out of it, "OH! Right. Well, I always take notes on how the signings or any kind of public ordeal plays out. We try to organize it just right so we can prevent any and all kinds of unexpected or unpleasant happenings. For the fans' safety as well all the superstars," she explained one of her job descriptions.
"Cool," John spoke as he and Rene nodded with appeased curiosity.
There was quick awkward silence before Mackenzie cleared her throat, "Well, I better be going. I've got a million things to do. Sorry I interrupted you two. I'll be on my way," she quickly supplied as she started down the hallway, after nodding farewell to both of them.
"See you," Rene called at her retreating form.
"Yeah. Later, Mac," John called after her.
Mackenzie almost stopped at the use of the name "Mac." No one ever just nicknamed her out of the blue. It was definitely turning out to be one of those very strange days. She had made a ton of new discoveries over the course of just a few hours.
Tomorrow she'd be meeting with Mr. McMahon about what she thought was a position as executive editor for WWE magazine. She had also learned that she wasn't totally ignored by everyone, and that when she was really pissed off she was full of nerve and had the ability to be an outspoken bitch. So what if it took her twenty-three years to figure out? Mackenzie Moore could stand up for herself…well, after a certain amount of annoyance anyway, but it was start.
John watched her walk away with mounting curiosity. He had seen her around before, but he had never approached her. He studied her motions as she hurriedly retreated. She had a nice ass, he decided, before shaking his head. He remembered that he still had to explain to Rene why comparing Vanilla Ice to Eminem was a huge insult. His interest was peaked though. He wanted to find out more about Mackenzie Moore and he would, he resolved.
Okay, ya'll tell me what you think! I know it's a rocky start, but I'm trying here, okay? I'm not sure how the updating is going to work, but I'll try to keep to at least once a week, but we know how I operate, so…sometimes it might not turn out that way. Well, REVIEW!!!! REVIEW!!! REV- FUCK IT, YA'LL KNOW THE DRILL!