Chapter Disclaimer: I own no one who is, has, or probably ever will work for the WWE. They are their property alone, and their on-screen personalities are property of themselves and Vince McMahon. Let's be honest; if I ever owned John Cena, he'd never be allowed to leave my bedroom, lol. Anyone that you happen to recognize that are not part of my original works of fiction or extensions of myself, I do not own. Thank you for not suing.

Nearly paralyzed with fear, John's mind decided to work at the last minute, before jumping out of the way before it struck him. Seeing his gear bag getting flattened like a pancake, John heaved a huge sigh of relief. He was glad that it wasn't him in that predicament.

When the car finally stopped, the door opened, and a person stepped out. "Oh, you pathetic fucking idiot," Krys snapped at him, scowling as she stared at him down on the ground. "You look well enough like a lowlife worm right there on the ground where you belong, but for God's sake get up already."

John simply stared at her, shock written all over his face. "Did you just try to run me over?" he asked, getting to his feet and taking a dangerous step toward her. She was seriously trying his patience, and if she wasn't careful, he was going to beat the living shit out of her, and enjoy doing it.

She scoffed. "Me, try to run you over? Get real, Cena." She rolled her eyes at him, then moved to her front tire to move the now-destroyed gear bag from the tire. "If I'd wanted to run you over, John, I would have done it already. And it definitely wouldn't be here, where everyone could see and identify me. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, even you're not that sadistic," John muttered, dusting himself off. "But then again," he added in a scathing tone, "you did kill your own husband."

Krys looked at him, wide-eyed, shock evident in her expression. Then, as soon as it appeared, a look of fury crossed her face, then her hand was across his face, slapping him hard. "How dare you, you bastard?" she hissed. "Don't you dare talk about Paul like that ever again. I loved him, more than I could ever love another man, and for you to imply something like that is a slap in the face to his memory and our love."

Before John could retort with a nasty remark of his own, Krys jumped back into her car, and sped off. With an audible sigh escaping his lips, John grabbed up his gear bag, and walked the rest of the way to his car. "This is going to be the death of me, I swear…" he mumbled, throwing his stuff in the trunk, and slamming the top down before getting in his car and speeding off.

One Hour Later...

"The nerve of that son of a fuck," Krys growled to herself as she stalked the hallways of the hotel she was staying in that night. She wasn't on a wrestling contract with the WWE; she was merely there to serve a storyline and then what went from there was anyone's guess. She was only going to be there for a few months, long enough for her to see her plan come to fruition, and then leave. If Vince wanted her to serve another purpose, she might care enough to stick around and do whatever he required of her. But for now, she was looking to fuck with his life and what better way to do that than to fuck with his career?

But then again, things didn't look so bad right about then. Standing right in front of her in the hotel bar, bossing around and terrorizing some poor female hotel worker, was the Legend Killer himself, Randy Orton. Tossing her anger out the window and putting on her best sweet-as-sugar smile that always got her whatever she'd wanted, Krys made her way over to Orton's table, and tapped him on the shoulder.

Whirling around, ready to rip whoever it was bothering him a new asshole, Randy Orton was surprised to see a woman looking up at him, an innocent smile on her face. His irritation turning to a smirk, Randy waved one dismissive hand to the woman he'd been pestering, and she scurried off, grateful that he was now distracted. "Krys, right?" he asked, smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What brings you over here to my little corner of this bar?"

"Well, I was looking around for a familiar face, and the first one I saw was yours." The woman was lying right through her teeth, but hell, if it caught his ego and get him to help her, she would tell the man he was God himself. "Mind if I join you?"

"I'd be insulted if you didn't. And we all know you wouldn't want that; I've quite the reputation around here when it comes to pretty young ladies such as yourself." Randy smirked again, standing up to pull a chair out for her. She graced him with a smile, and waved her right hand delicately in a waiter's direction. "Now, what's a gorgeous woman like you doing in a shitty little bar like this?"

"I was looking for you, actually. Vodka, rocks," she instructed to the waiter, not even bothering to glance up at him. "Follow it up with a bottle of Jack; I have a feeling I'm gonna need it."

"Wow, you're quite the drinker," Orton commented, whistling appreciatively as he gave the waiter instructions for his own drink, then waved him off. "I like that in a woman."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Orton."

"And she knows respect too. I'm liking you more and more."

She smirked at him maliciously. "Don't get your hopes up. I have very little respect for many people in this world, let alone this company. But, I can honestly say, I see something in you, young Orton. It's just like seeing something in me."

"What do you mean?" The waiter arrived with the drinks, and Randy grabbed his up immediately, taking a huge gulp. He placed the glass down, and looked at Krys. Her brown hues glistened deviously as she looked at him. Her eyes almost seemed to not blink as they focused on him.

"What I mean is, I want to work with you, Orton," she hissed, finally breaking eye contact long enough to take a huge swig of her vodka. "I think we can mutually benefit from one another with what I'm proposing."

"And what exactly are you proposing?"

"The destruction of John Cena." Her eyes glistened once again, cat-like, and she finished the rest of her first drink with ease, throwing her head back and swallowing it all in a few swallows. She licked her lips delicately, then focused her attention back on Randy's blue eyes as he looked at her curiously. "I can promise you, you attack Cena, the WWE Championship is yours for the taking. I'm a very persuasive girl, Randy, and I don't like to dawdle with phony promises. If you decline my offer, I'll just take it to someone else who wants it more. Maybe Triple H?"

"Please," Randy scoffed. "He's married to precious Stephanie. All he has to do is screw her, and she's ready to put the title on him. You'd think the bitch has never been laid before." He rolled his eyes, then continued. "And anyway, even if I wanted to feud with Cena, it'd have to wait, because I'm stuck in this feud with Edge against DX."

"So what? I'm not worried about when it takes place, as long as it does. I'm looking for someone who can take him out, and ruin his career—not that it isn't already ruined. Do you hear those boos he's getting? Wonderful." She laughed, taking pleasure in him being booed mercilessly by the fans. "Anyway, what better way to get revenge on him in real life, than by getting revenge on him in kayfabe? And you're the perfect man to do it, Randy; you're a complete piece of shit, and the people know it."

Randy's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he shot her a deadly look. "Just what the fuck are you implying, little girl?"

She smiled again at him. "What I'm implying, dear Randy is that the fans think you're an absolute piece of shit. You're so hated that all you have to do is stand in the ring, and people are ready to kick your ass. You're the perfect man to take Cena out."

"But I already have a storyline coming up now that H is out. I'll soon be in another storyline, and I won't have time for Cena."

"Didn't I just say that time was of no concern to me? I'm pretty sure I just mentioned that it doesn't matter when it takes place, as long as it does. Jesus, I hate repeating myself." Irritated, she opened her bottle of Jack, and took a huge swig, feeling a slight buzz take her over.

"Calm down, cutie, I mean no harm." Randy took another sip of his drink, feeling his buzz falling into slight drunkenness. "Alright, so let's say I do agree to your plan to take Cena out. What's in it for you?"

"Like I said, all I want is for Cena to just be completely fucked up. I want his career ruined absolutely, and I want him to be humiliated, and you're the perfect man to do it." Sensing that he was borderline drunk, she stood to her feet, and walked over to his side, taking him by the hand. "I've got the bill; let's go discuss this further somewhere in private." She helped him up, tossed a few bills onto the table, then helped him out of the bar and into the nearby elevator.

Before Randy knew what was happening, Krys was throwing herself at him, and they were making out in the elevator. Hands exploring, sighs of pleasure, the whole nine yards. Her hands were grasping at the very obvious bulge in his tight jeans, and it was driving him crazy.

The elevator beeped at the fifteenth floor, and Krys calmly walked through the doors, still holding him by the hand as if he were some kind of special child that needed guidance. Though Randy was engaged as evidenced by the ring on his finger, he'd had no objections to her leading him anywhere, or having her way with him. He followed her dumbly as they stopped at her door. She pulled out her card key, slid it through the lock, and then opened the door to her hotel room, beckoning him to follow her by crooking her finger devilishly.

Once the door closed behind him, she was on him again, kissing, biting and sucking any available patch of skin she could find on his body. Finally, she pushed him back onto the bed, unzipped his jeans and took him into her mouth without a moment's hesitation.

Randy couldn't say no after this; she'd had a spell on him, and it wasn't just because of all the alcohol he'd consumed before she'd gotten there, and what little he'd drank after she'd gotten there. There was something about this girl…she could paralyze him with a simple look, could tempt him with only a glance, and she didn't even have to put up a seductive look or anything. All she had to do was speak, or even look at him, and he was hers.

He groaned loudly as she released his cock from her mouth, then didn't hesitate to remove his own clothing as she removed hers. "Condom," he mumbled breathlessly, and she wordlessly pulled a Trojan from the nightstand beside her bed and tossed it to him. He'd barely gotten it on when she pulled him from the bed and kissed him hard; he turned the two of them around so she faced the bed and shoved her onto it, then pounced on her, entering her swiftly. Not wanting there to be any time for romance or whatever bullshit he may have been thinking, Krys slapped him hard across the face, ordering him to 'fucking get it over with'.

They fucked hard and fast, neither one of them wanting anything differently. Randy withdrew quickly, flipped her onto her stomach, braced his hands on either of her hips, and pumped himself inside of her from behind over and over again, getting off on her moans and sighs, as she writhed beneath him. Within minutes of their rough and frantic joining, he was coming hard and fast inside her, and he knew he would do whatever she wished, as long as she continued to give him this each and every time he wanted it.

"So…are you going to help me?" she asked quietly once she'd gotten her breath back. It was more like a demand than a request, but Randy didn't mind any.

"Hell yes, I'll help you," he answered breathlessly as he withdrew from inside her tight confines, still blown away by what had just happened between them. He'd just had rough, virtually animalistic sex with a complete fucking stranger, all so she could enlist his help to take John Cena out. He would do her bidding, and he would do it happily, with a smile on his face.

Whatever the hell Cena had done to this woman, was going to be paid back to him in spades. Hell hath no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned.

Damn, he'd really stepped in it this time. And so had Randy.