Runaway Fast as You Can
chapter one;
[Randy's POV]
As I walked down the hallway of the arena that we were at for Monday Night Raw, I held a plate of food from catering. I popped a grape into my mouth and munched slowly as I got closer and closer to a bunch of screaming from the Legacy's locker room.
I raised an eyebrow, a bit confused, before I let my free hand push the door open.
My eyes looked down to the floor where my two prodigy's, Ted DiBiase Jr and Cody Rhodes laying on their stomachs, playing GI Joe's. I took in the scene for a minute before I cleared my throat, "What the fuck are y'all doing?"
Ted jumped onto his feet, almost embarrassed that he had been caught playing with dolls.
"We were just killing some time," Cody offered, not looking up at me as he stomped his action figure down on top of the one that Ted had been holding before I entered the room. I shook my head and walked further into the room, towards my area which held my WWE title, my cell phone and my luggage.
I had taken Ted and Cody under my wing about a year ago and now, with a few new staff members, I would be required to meet up with them to see where my career would be going. I knew that it would be easy to get what I wanted, all I had to do was get that evil look in my eye and I would have those writers wrapped around my finger.
I had been doing this every six months or so, at least whenever Vince, Stephanie and Shane would hire a new handful of WWE Creative Writers. I would go in there and play the big-bad bully, only to keep the kind of storylines I liked. I, Randall Keith Orton did not like change.
I sat down and watched Ted and Cody go back to their game of GI Joe, watching intently while I ate my lunch of a ham sandwich, fruit salad and grape Jell-o. I couldn't help but smile a few times, these guys were my best friends on the road, having become one of the most powerful tag-teams of all time, and yet, in their free time they were playing GI Joes in the locker room.
"I'll be back," I said, polishing off my lunch and throwing the paper plate into the trash can. I grabbed my water bottle and stepped through the boy's game, kicking their action figures aside with a sly smirk on my face, walking out of the room.
"Hey, Orton," a voice called down the hall. I turned on my heel and let my hands slide into the pockets of my jeans. I saw one of my close friends in the WWE, Matt Korklan, who went by the name of Evan Bourne in the ring. It was interesting to see how we both grew up in the same area and now – we were able to work together in the WWE – even having a few great dark matches around the country.
"Hey, what's up man?" I asked, slapping his hand quickly as he spoke.
"You waiting to get your face turn?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.
I snorted, "Yeah, yeah, right. The day Randy Orton turns baby face is the day that the High Flyer Evan Bourne's wings are clipped," I joked.
"Well, I heard we got some fresh writers who might try to change the entire landscape of the World Wrestling Entertainment business. I highly doubt it will actually work, but hey! There's always writers who try to move mountains in the first year," he said.
"Oh yeah, I know," I said, "But then again, every six months, there are always a fresh batch of writers who failed to make good on their promises," I grinned, shrugging once.
"Just play nice with whatever they say, remember that they own your ass practically," he said with a grin.
"Screw that," I shrugged, "Please, don't even try to make it sound like I'm their bitch," I said, turning my head and walking down the hall. "I'll catch you later, Korklan," I called over my shoulder before running into what seemed like a person.
I looked down through the blizzard of papers that had gone up in the air while the young woman looked up at me.
"Oops," I said, while I walked right into the room, not stopping to help her. I sat in the chair across from the desk where I saw the panel of new WWE writers along with Vince McMahon. Quietly, I crossed my arms against my chest and took in the scenery of the WWE creative writers.
"Good afternoon, Randy," Vince said. "I'm happy to see you were on time," he nodded. "We'll be happy to start as soon as Ms. King is here."
I shrugged my shoulders, "Good deal," I said.
Quietly, I waited a moment, almost a little pissed off that I had been on time but the girl who would be dealing with my future wasn't.
The door opened behind me and the entire panel of male storyline writers, including Vince, stood up. "Ah," Vince said with a grin. "Ms. King, nice to see you!"
"I'm so sorry, Mr. McMahon, I never am late but I just got ran into by somebody and all of my notes went up in the air," the voice said. I looked up to see the newest WWE Storyline writer. It was sort of funny to me that she was in the midst of Vince McMahon, late, and because of me.
She stood about five foot seven, had shoulder length blond hair which was straightened and a pair of black reading glasses on the bridge of her nose. She wore a pair of black skinny jeans and a gray button up tailored blouse.
"Don't you worry about it, Ms. King!" Vince said softly, almost in a tone that did not sound like it belonged to Vince McMahon at all.
"Please, call me Bailey," she said as she found her seat on the panel across from me. And as if I needed it, I saw her papers all messed up in front of her, showing me the final confirmation that she was in fact the girl that I had ran into. I smirked with a soft chuckle, relaxing in my chair.
"So," Vince announced from his spot in the center of the room. "We've brought you in today Randy because these three creative writers will be in charge of you, Ted and Cody's storylines for the next year," he said.
I watched the trio that Vince had just introduced me to. I was somewhat shocked about the fact that these guys were going to be the writing for myself and for my two buddies. I raised an eyebrow, "Well," I said, deciding to open up a forum for the "noobs". "What do y'all have in mind?"
"What's the number one thing, that you don't want to change?" Bailey said, her fingers lacing and letting her hands sit in her lap. Her eyes were green, I noted.
"For the past five years, I've been a heel," I told her, giving her a cocky smile. "So I'll go ahead and be honest with you saying that if you all wanna stay here, continuing your writing career for more than six months, I would keep me a heel."
Vince watched me before letting his large hand rest on Bailey's shoulder.
"You see," Vince nodded, "That sucks for you Randy, because we hired Bailey here to give you a huge face turn within the next six months, I mean," he shrugged. "We need to have you go face, because what with the NXT rookies of season one coming up after the show ends, starting to become heels. They'll be attacking John Cena after a while, so it would only make sense to make the second in command, being you, become the number one face in the business."
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I snapped, glaring at Vince, jumping up with a shake of his head. "I mean, why would you screw with something so perfect?" I yelled.
Bailey stood her ground, "I think that if we could find a way to make you a babyface," she said before I shook my head, cutting her off.
"I just can not believe you think that you can do that," I snapped, "I mean, honestly! Let's think! For seven years I've been a WWE heel, and I am damn good at what I do," I spat, glaring down at the blond. "If the fans don't take me being a face and if I lose any of the fans that I do have for being the Legend Killer, so help me God, I will take you down with me, King."
Bailey, surprisingly, gave me a grin.
"I look forward to it, Randy."