Author's Preface: My readers will notice that this story takes place between December of 2003 and May of 2005, the equivalent of ancient history at this point in time. The reason for this is that this period is when I began watching "the wrestling", and by the end of 2004, the seeds of this story had already sprouted inside my mind. Basic laziness and procrastination explain why it's taken until now for the story to be published. All I ask of you is to be kind.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the wrestling superstars, names or other miscellany associated with World Wrestling Entertainment. That is strictly the domain of Vince McMahon. The only character I can claim is Elektra, who is entirely of my own devices.

You Were Meant For Me

Chapter 1- The Beginning of the End

It all began at Armageddon.

In retrospect, Elektra found the idea highly ironic to say that her new life as a WWE Diva began on the so-called "end of days". But then again, she had always had a habit of observing life's little ironies. Take tonight, for example. As the newest Diva on Monday Night Raw, Elektra should have been standing out, had actually been hired for her ability to stand out. But yet, on the night of this pay-per-view, she was trying her best to blend in.

Now, this is not to say that she was trying to disappear entirely. Vince McMahon had brought her on board because, out of hundreds of beautiful girls, she possessed that little extra something that separated WWE Divas from all the rest. And she had worked damn hard for the last few years to make sure that she stood out from all the rest. No, tonight, Elektra was hoping to attract the attention of just one man, and so far, that hadn't happened yet.

Elektra was looking for Triple H.

Unconsciously, she tugged at the hem of her short pleated skirt, as though by doing so, she could magically produce another inch or two of fabric. She remembered examining her reflection critically in the mirror before leaving the women's locker room. Black-and-pink plaid skirt, low-cut black top, shiny black boots that would have earned her the label of "hooker" in her hometown. For a moment, she had actually wondered if the outfit was too slutty, before laughing at herself. "Right, too slutty in the WWE." she muttered to herself. "What are they expecting, a burlap sack?"

Anyone seeing her for the first time would have noticed a tall slim girl, a few inches shy of six feet, with enough of the right curves in the right places to turn heads. Her hair was long, reaching almost halfway down her back, and was a dark espresso brown. Her features were delicate: softly rounded cheekbones and chin providing the necessary angles to an oval face. Her nose was not quite straight; it turned up ever-so-slightly at the end. But the feature that really brought her whole face together was her eyes. Large and cat-shaped, they were an unusual shade of pale grey that turned the color of liquid silver when she became angry or upset. Vince had announced proudly that her eyes were as valuable an asset as Stacy Keibler's forty one and a half inch legs. Elektra had smiled and accepted the compliment, although she secretly wondered if the color of her eyes really mattered to a sold-out stadium crowd mainly concerned with T & A.

At this moment, she kept her one-in-a-million gaze cast demurely toward the floor, looking up every now and again to introduce herself to the odd Superstar. Their reactions to her simple hello ran the gamut of a Sergio Leone film: the good, the bad and the ugly. But Elektra had just chalked it up to the fact that a wrestling roster was just like high school: there were your friends, your enemies, and those weird kids who hung out by the side of the building and smoked. So far, she'd connected the most with Trish Stratus and Lita, who were both nice, if a little reserved and downcast. Elektra couldn't blame them, though, not after seeing them having to endured that humiliating Battle of the Sexes. Seeing as how she was the new kid, they offered to share their hotel room with her.

"But you better not snore!" Trish warned.

"Yeah," Lita added. "Or else we'll have to kill you." The three of them burst into laughter upon hearing this.

But despite the new friends she had made, Elektra still hadn't located the object of her quest, even after walking up and down almost every back hallway in the arena. And then she spotted him. One thing that could be said about Triple H was that he seemed to occupy a lot of space. He was definitely an imposing figure in his wrestling trunks and t-shirt, blond hair falling across a face that could be best described as crudely handsome. At the moment, he was boasting about his eminent victory over Kane and Goldberg to two stunning young women, most likely escorts. Elektra kept her eyes downcast, trailing her fingers lightly along the cinder block wall. She had read somewhere that geisha had the ability to make a man stumble in mid-step just by looking at him. Well, she wasn't expecting that strong of a reaction, but the same principle applied. Elektra had to spark the Game's interest with just one look. As she got closer, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Triple H glance up, probably to gaze at her with appreciation. At that moment, she looked up and met his eyes.

Just as she had hoped, he forgot momentarily about his two female companions, turning his head to follow her movements. Elektra held his gaze until she passed him, then focused back on the hallway ahead of her as if nothing had happened. In the background, she heard a snap of fingers, and realized that it must be Triple H dismissing his girls. How cliche...she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. Turning the first corner to her right, she waited a second or two before bending down and pretending to adjust her boot. When she straightened up, she felt him brush back a lock of hair from her neck and then his mouth next to her ear.

"Are you here for my victory party?" he whispered. He laid his hand on the flat of her bare abdomen. His breath was hot against her earlobe. "Or maybe just a private party for the two of us?"

Elektra touched his wrist, making sure to press against him for just a second before pulling away. "Tempting, but unfortunately, I've made other plans for tonight," she purred, catching his eyes at just the right instant. "But if you're looking for a little company at your next get-together, look me up." She put one hand on his chest as she leaned up to his ear. "I'm Elektra."

The Game turned his head, bringing his mouth close to hers. "Tri–"

"The future World Heavyweight Championship hardly needs to introduce himself," Elektra interrupted lightly. "Look, I know you have a huge match coming up soon, so I'll just give you a kiss for good luck." Tiptoing, she kissed him softly on the cheek. "See you around...Hunter." she murmured, the emphasis on his first name hinting that they would be more than just casual acquaintances. She didn't look back as she walked away, but she could tell just by the feeling in her gut that she had him.

As soon as she was sure she was out of sight, she leaned back against the wall, a huge satisfied smile spreading across her face. Her mission for the evening was complete. Time to finish introducing herself before heading back to the women's locker room to watch the rest of the pay-per-view.

But then she turned the corner, and just like that, the world's biggest monkey wrench was thrown into her plans...

According to most sets of wrestling stats, Dave Batista was six five, three hundred and eighteen pounds. However, these numbers meant absolutely nothing when one came face-to-face with Evolution's Animal. Still pumped from his win over the Dudleys, he had the Tag Team Championship belt slung over one shoulder. It was this massive piece of metal and leather that Elektra almost collided with as she rounded the corner. Both of them came to an abrupt halt, and Elektra found herself less than two inches away from the words "Tag Team".

Almost as though he expected her to suddenly grab the belt and run like hell, Batista eased his trophy more securely onto his shoulder. "Hey," he complained. "Watch where you're–" His words faltered the minute Elektra forced her eyes off the broad bronze expanse of his chest and up to his face.

She could not have anticipated what would happen next. The moment their eyes met, all of the irritation drained out of Batista's face, and he froze, mouth hanging open slightly. Elektra could only imagine the expression on her own face. She knew about Batista, had seen footage of him and the rest of Evolution in action, but at this moment, it was like she was seeing him for the first time. He exuded this aura of raw power and heat, and Elektra was drawn to him without even thinking about it. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her; felt its pull. Looking into those dark eyes, she saw a spark of attraction that must have registered in her own eyes, because she could feel it moving through her body like an electric current.

As though in slow motion, she saw his hand reaching for her. She braced herself, though she didn't know why, but Batista merely pushed back a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. When his fingers grazed her skin, Elektra knew that this was right; that this was how she was supposed to feel. When Triple H had touched her, nothing had happened, but with a simple gesture, Batista had sent a ripple of heat coursing through her body. Unfortunately, he had done it five minutes too late.

With a quick shake of her head, Elektra pushed back Batista, stammering "I'm sorry," in a shaky voice. She walked away as fast as she could, leaving behind a now-confused World Tag Team Champion.

Finding the women's restroom, Elektra dashed into the nearest stall and slammed the door shut. She leaned against the metal wall and closed her eyes, trying to keep her body from shaking. "Shit." she whispered to herself. "Shit, shit, shit."

Thus, with two small encounters, the emotional turmoil that would define her first year with the WWE was born.