1Well, after more damn writers block and a hectic, crappy few weeks, I have FINALLY finished this chapter. bows Now..some of my dearest friends are gonna give me HELL for upcoming events..I am sorry but it's part of the plot, DAMNIT! Lmao..anyway, thanks for checking this chapter out, you know I love all ya'll. Review, or I'll be upset.. :P

Chapter Thirteen: "Twisted Revenge"

The weekend came quickly and before he knew it, Randy Orton was in Chicago, surrounded by the concrete jungle and surrounded by all his coworkers for the weekend house show. They'd be in town for three days so he'd booked himself a large suite at the Merriot, one of the finest hotel chains in the country. The Legend Killer couldn't help but overindulge himself. He wanted to spend as much time out as possible. He had a lot of steam to blow off and he couldn't think of a better way to relax than a night out on the town. But, before he could do just that, he had an autograph session with one of the RAW Divas..who she was, was the only question. Randy arrived at the small car showroom and found his way through the crowd, towards one of the event managers that was seated in one of the back rooms.

"Hey Bruce, you know who I'm signing with?" he asked, smirking as he caught his reflection in the mirror that was hanging on the wall. He undid the first three buttons on his baby blue shirt and pulled down his tie, licking his fingertips to fix a few rebellious strands of soft brunette hair.

"Always looking for an excuse to admire yourself, eh Ran?" Randy turned on his heel swiftly, his narrowed blue eyes now locked with large, hazel orbs. His breath caught in his throat as he raked his eyes over the full, luscious figure of the Canadian beauty before him. Her large breasts were revealed by the low cut, off the shoulder tube top that clung tight to her every curve. She wore a pair of tight hip huggers that sat snug around her with a pair of light pink boots to match her top. Her lips were coated to perfection with a gloss that smelt of strawberry. Randy fidgeted with his tie as he sucked down on his lip, letting out a barely audible groan as she pushed past him, her firm ass the subject of his lustful stare.

"Well well, Missy..I see you answered the question for Bruce," he grinned, raising one of his eyebrows as he turned to follow in her direction.

"Glad to be stuck with me for three hours?" Trish taunted, stopping to admire the large crowd of people that had come to meet them. Randy halted behind her, peeking over her shoulder discretely to get a better view of her breasts.

"I guess." They exchanged a grin before pushing out into the group of people, ready to spent some time with their fans. The session went very smoothly with only a few rowdy people here and there. Trish was sure they'd met over a hundred people before their time was up and the crew escorted them to their limo. "Want to catch a ride with me, Missy?"

"Where you off to?" she asked, turning to look at Randy, who was holding the door open for her.

"Off to get a few drinks." If there was one thing Trish knew about him, it was to never go out and consume alcohol with Randy Orton. The two were a combination for trouble. But, what harm could it do? It wasn't like she had to meet up with Dave Batista, who had been so wrapped up in the fact that his wife had discovered their affair to even really spend time with her.

"I'd like that," she smiled, tossing her purse over her shoulder as she pranced toward Randy, her sights firmly set on letting out some of the pent up stress she'd been feeling. And who better to do that with than Randy?

Trish tossed back another shot and slammed the glass back down on the table, closing her eyes and relaxing as the hot liquid burned down into her empty stomach. She was beginning to let loose..maybe drinking alcohol without first eating wasn't such a good idea. She looked over at Randy, who had his head tossed back, draining the contents of his remaining beer. Trish let out a random giggle as she watched him, gulping the liquid as though he hadn't had anything to drink in his entire life.

"What's so funny?" Randy asked, letting out a small chuckle as he studied the blonde before him, his baby eyes narrowed in interest. It was apparent to him that she was buzzed.

"You," Trish purred, tossing her hair. She sucked on her lip as she watched him staring at her. Even in her tipsy state, she realized the way he looked at her was unlike anything she'd ever felt. It was wrong..she loved Dave. But she couldn't help but enjoy the hot tingles in between her thighs.

"Why am I funny?" Randy asked again, this time standing up to tower over her. He leaned down on his palms, drawing closer to the Canadian beauty so that she could smell his sweet, intoxicating cologne. He watched her in interest as she breathed in the scent and let out a dreamy sigh, her lips trembling slightly.

"I don't know," she laughed, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the blue orbs that were sparkling playfully.

"How 'bout you dance with me, Missy?" he whispered, taking one of her cool, slender hands in his and tugging on it softly.

"I dunno..I don't think I can stand," Trish giggled, finishing off the last shot that was placed neatly in front of her.

"I'll make sure you don't fall on your ass. C'mon, you said yourself on the way over here that you don't get out a lot and let your hair down." Randy raised his eyebrows suggestively. Trish realized he was right..what harm could it do to just forget everything and everyone and just do whatever she pleased? She gave into the tugs on her arm and let Randy drag her onto the dance floor, hidden by a large group of people. Trish stopped in front of him and watched him with reluctance, as though she were a little child that was staring at a total stranger.

"What now?" she asked, immediately feeling incredibly stupid as Randy began to laugh at her.

"We dance," he smirked, tilting his head, his eyes seductive. Trish didn't have any time to refuse before Randy's firm hands took her by the hips and thrust her up against him, her firm breasts rubbing on his strong pecs. Her whole body had been set on fire at his will.

"I-I don't think this is such a good.."

"Grind on me," Randy demanded into her ear, his hot fingertips guiding her hips as she began to roll them against his body. He grew painfully hard as he moved to her rhythm, his heart pounding fiercely against his chest. He held on her as though hanging on for dear life, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin. Trish had totally lost control of herself..and she was loving every second of it. She ran her leg up his body, wrapping it firmly against his hips, forcing his manhood in between her thighs where she grinded on him slowly. He was making her incredibly wet..she could feel the thick moisture inside of her thong. Randy nuzzled his face against her neck and ran his tongue along her jaw line, nipping at the soft flesh tenderly. Trish tossed her head back and gripped desperately at his hair, holding his head as his mouth explored her satin skin, leaving every inch he touched on fire. Her moans of approval only fueled his desires. What was he doing? What was she doing? Why were they in this position in the first place? Questions that were lacking logical answers swirled around in his head. Did it really matter what they were doing? He couldn't think of an easier way to relieve stress caused by a certain leggy diva, than to be in the presence of the gorgeous Trish Stratus, who was still grinding against him, popping her hips as though she were making love to him. He hadn't the slightest clue that she was seeing Dave Batista..like that would've really stopped him. Randy pulled away from her to catch his breath, studying the hickeys that he'd left on her neck. It was as though he had branded her his own, even though they'd just recently become friends again. The amazing feeling of freedom overtook Trish as continued to rub herself on Randy, who was now swaying side to side, his eye closed and a smirk on his face. Whether or not it was the alcohol that had driven her to do these things to him was beyond her..and frankly, she didn't care. Randy made her feel good..but he made her feel so naughty as well. Never in her life had she wanted to fuck someone so hard. She wanted to make Randy beg. But Trish knew that these feelings had to be the shots of alcohol..right?

xxxxx

Stacy stirred softly in her sleep, the sudden movement bringing John out of a troubled slumber and back into his troubled reality. He blinked in the soft morning glow, turning to read the numbers on the digital clock. It was only six AM..what the hell was he going to do for the next hour before the alarm went off? Lay there, staring at Stacy's back while his thoughts ate him up? John let out a long sigh into the once silent room. This was going to be a rough day..and he'd have to spent it all alone with Stacy, in a car, for the next five hours. They had to drive to Chicago. And, as much as he loved being with the leggy blonde, he wasn't looking forward to this little trip. Ever since they had made love in the midst of Stacy's angst, things had been awkward between the two. John knew that Stacy was probably still mourning the fact that Orton had broken her heart in two and used her. But, well, his feelings were different. Very different.

"Morning John." He blinked softly in surprise at the gentle voice whispered beside him. He turned to glance over at Stacy, who was smiling and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Hey Stace.." he whispered, squeezing her hand, that had previously been resting on his arm.

"Is it almost seven?" she asked hoarsely. John looked back at the clock and shook his head.

"It's only six." Stacy's lips formed a silent "Oh" as she snuggled back down into the pillow that she had been resting on. Her eyes fluttered shut as she let out a relaxed sigh.

"You lookin' forward to this weekend?" she asked, her eyes still closed and her head still cushioned by her pillow. John swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat from watching her before answering.

"Um..I dunno..I kinda wish we all had some time to relax."

"We all want to relax." Stacy whispered, yawning softly before drifting off into what appeared to be a gentle sleep. John knew how many nights she'd spent pacing the hallways until possibly three AM, maybe even four. She had to be exhausted. He took the hand that was tangled up in the cool sheets and pressed soft kisses into the silky skin. Nothing felt more wonderful than just laying in her presence and soaking in the feelings that ran through his body. Not even a second escaped that he didn't fall even more in love with her. And he still had yet to find out if that was a good thing.

xxxxx

Stacy wiggled her toes impatiently as she rested her feet on the dashboard of the rental car she was sharing with John. The drive to Chicago was taking longer than she would've expected and the silence was oppressive. She could hear a loud ringing in her ears and the very sound made her want to scream in annoyance. If only she could find something to say..anything! John glanced over at Stacy, who was now rolling her eyes and shaking her head at what appeared to be nothing.

"You..uh, okay?" he asked, smirking. She turned over to look at him meekly, a crimson shade slowly coloring her cheeks.

"Sorry..I was mentally kicking myself."

"About?" She knew he'd have to know every single detail. That was John.

"Not being able to talk to you lately. I'm sure you've noticed me hiding from you," Stacy laughed nervously, now lowering her head so she could pick at the skirt she wore around her waist. John snorted aloud.

"How could I miss that? We only fucked each other senseless. No biggie, right?" Though his voice wasn't angry nor his tone harsh, Stacy found herself flinching. It was like he'd just thrown the one thing she'd been attempting to ignore right back in her face. No matter how good it felt or how much she wanted more, she had to forgot about it.

"Stop that, John. I don't want to have this conversation right now," she hissed.

"You always do that shit! You can never face things. It's always 'later'..later never comes, Stace!"

"SHUT UP." Silence followed her sudden outburst. Stacy had her hands clasped over her mouth as though she'd told him a hidden secret, a secret she should've kept to herself. "Oh my God, I didn't mean to.."

"Whatever, Stacy. It's not important anyway." She went to open her mouth to protest but John raised a hand, this silent signal telling her that he wished not to hear her speak. Great..she had to endure this long ass ride and now..now John Cena was mad at her. What else could go wrong?

xxxxx

Trish held her composure as she listened to Christy Hemme ramble on about her recent trade to SmackDown and how much she had enjoyed being on RAW before. The Canadian blonde was about to not only lose her patience but she was going to hit the overactive redhead right in the face. Where the hell was Stacy? She hadn't seen the leggy blonde all day and that was unlike her best friend. Trish had seen John but he wasn't quite in the most pleasant mood. Her mind was racing in about a million different directions when her cell phone suddenly went off, the soft vibration that was coming from her purse bringing her out of her own mind.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice dull and bored.

"Hey girl, I'm running a little late," Stacy spoke into the other line, a frown on her face even though Trish couldn't see.

"Really! I hadn't noticed," Trish hissed. "Where the hell are you?"

"On my way to dinner..calm down. I just wanted to tell you something before I got there..and before you could hurt me..or throw something." Trish's stomach ached suddenly. What could she possibly be referring to?

"Huh?"

"Dave is with Angie back in DC."

"I can't believe this!" Trish screamed, her long fingernails tugging on her blonde pigtails, a look of horror on her beautiful features. Stacy had insisted that Christy stay at the table while she talked to the now furious diva, who was pacing the empty bathroom. "Wait..who told you this?"

"Vince. Well..he didn't exactly tell me, I just overheard him telling Stephanie that he couldn't make the shows this weekend because he went to take care of personal problems with his wife," Stacy breathed, turning from the mirror she'd been looking into to gaze at Trish, who was now leaning against the nearest wall for support.

"Jesus.." A harsh growl escaped her trembling lips. "First last night, and now Dave." Stacy slid her purse up to rest on her shoulder, a thin eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Last night?" Trish cleared her throat and waved a careless hand.

"Too much to drink, that's all," she said, leaving out the detail that would hurt her friend the most. Stacy nodded in understanding, a hand coming out to squeeze Trish's arm.

"What's been going on with Dave lately anyway?"

"Too long of a story for right now, Stace..I just want to be alone, okay?" The long legged blonde left the bathroom quietly, her head bowed and a deep frown on her face. But the last thing on Trish's mind was her..where was her cell phone? She settle this right now. Dave was only a phone call away. After dialing his number and listening to the ringing for what seemed like an hour, his deep voice greeted her softly.

"Hey Trish."

"Just where are you, sweets?" she asked, a false happiness in her usually kind voice.

"..I'm working so stuff out with Angie, okay?"

"Thanks for telling me," she sneered, anger burning in her chest at the unconcern in his voice.

"Baby, I knew you'd be upset. I just need a few days, okay?"

"Whatever." Trish slammed her phone shut and tossed it back into her purse, tossing her platinum hair as if she didn't care. She had the sudden urge to punch something hard. Instead she took a deep breath and smoothed out her top. David Batista wasn't going to ruin her night.

xxxxx

Randy Orton leaned his head back and let out a low growl, the exhaustion that hung over him like a dark cloud causing him to be in foul mood. Torrie hated when he got like this..it wasn't exactly paradise to spend a night with him. She rolled her eyes as she turned her head to the side, crossing her arms across her firm breasts. She had spent the evening listening to Randy ramble on, though her mind and her eyes were on other things. Torrie had spotted Stacy Keibler walking side by side with John Cena. This had sparked an interest and since then, she hadn't payed a bit of attention to Randy. Sensing this, he'd finally stopped talking, his eyebrows raised in wonder as to what had made her so uninterested.

"Just what the hell are you looking at?" he asked, his strong arms sneaking around her slender waist, his eyes darting around as he stared over her shoulder for whatever had caught her attention. "I don't see anything worth.." He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing and his mouth agape.

"Nothing. I'm just tired," Torrie sighed, reaching into her purse to pull out her car keys. "I'm gonna head to the hotel. Is that okay?" Randy nodded distantly, his eyes never once leaving Stacy and John. Hardly noticing the departure of Torrie Wilson, he began to creep closer, annoyance written all over his handsome features.

"Well, well, well.." he drawled, smiling innocently as he approached the two, who stared on in horror as the St. Louis native neared. Stacy jumped up abruptly, her eyes wide.

"Randy! What are you doing here!" John got to his feet as if he were prepared for war, his fists balled and his eyes dark with hatred.

"I'd like to ask why you are with..him," Randy hissed, his voice thick with venom as he glanced over his former best friend.

"We were talking, that's all."

"Maybe it ain't your business, Orton. Since when have you cared about Stacy? Last time I checked.."

"Shut your goddamn mouth, Cena." John leapt forward and raised his fist, only to be stopped by Stacy, who slammed her hands into his firm chest and shoved him back, her eyes dark with warning.

"Since when in the fuck have you cared about him?" John asked, both surprised and angry that she had stopped him from giving Randy a piece of his mind.

"John, look, relax..I don't want a fight. Just go, okay? I need to talk with Randy."

"What the fuck ever..I don't give a shit." John shot a glare, that even made Randy flinch, at them before walking off, his shoulders slouched as if he'd just been defeated. Stacy watched him leave with regret, the knowledge that she was now alone with the man who she'd recently discovered had used her, finally setting in. The anger that had been buried under her worries about John became ignited once again. She turned on her heel, her steely gaze connecting with Randy's eyes before she raised her hand swiftly and slapped his cheek with all her might, her fingertips now branded into his skin like a permanent tattoo. He blinked in surprise, his mouth open to comment.

"Save it, you piece of shit. I talked to Torrie. We need to clear some things up, babe." Randy cursed under his breath. When he saw that bitch later, she'd better run for her life. "To get to the point, thanks for using me. I found out about your wonderful scheme..you always have to get a piece of fine ass, don't you?" Silence washed over Randy as he stared at the ground.

"You believed her?" he laughed, sudden humor shining on his face.

"Why wouldn't I?" Randy laughed even harder as if this were, in some unknown way, funny.

"Torrie's insane..you do know that right? It's amazing the shit she can make up!" Stacy laughed sarcastically, her eyes now squinted as she studied the look of panic that was almost hidden in Randy's eyes.

"Then why do you look so nervous? What was that that you used to say? Eyes don't lie?" Randy's smirked faltered. He narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, taking Stacy's delicate face into his warm hands.

"I don't want you to believe her, that's all..I can't stop thinking about you." Stacy wanted to believe him..she wanted to so bad.

"Bullshit.." she whispered, her voice soft and hoarse. She tore his hands away from her and shook her head firmly, taking one last look at his face before turning away from him. Randy watched as she walked off, a soft chuckle of disbelief escaping his lips.

"Women."

xxxxx

Three days had passed along with the series of Chicago house shows before Trish knew it. She had expected the days without Dave to go slow and to drag on for an eternity. Now, she was awaiting his arrival, sprawled out on the hotel bed as if she hadn't slept in months. Her eyes were heavy and surrounded by dark circles but she refused to sleep until she saw Dave..and until she got details. The door rattled loudly as Dave stepped into the room suddenly, his large form a sight of pure bliss for Trish.

"Baby," he whispered, falling down onto her to smother her with kisses. She held onto him as though he were going to slip away.

"I've missed you!" she cried, burying her face into his chest to take in his scent as though it were a drug that she desperately needed. Dave lay down beside her and let out a deep, troubled sigh, his eyes lacking the light that usually shined as bright as day when he was near her. "W-What's wrong?"

"I've fucked up big time.." he whispered again, closing his eyes to block out the face of his lover. Trish hung over him, her brown orbs wide in both shock and wonder.

"What?" she croaked, her arms now finding their way to his chest, where she lingered on his pounding heart. Telling her would sacrifice everything but he couldn't hide this anymore..he'd never been dishonest and starting now went against everything he believed in.

"I slept with Angie."

Trish stared at her dark reflection, her bloodshot, tear filled eyes drooping in the dim light. There was no need to even think about Dave's confession..he'd killed her. He might as well have put a gun to her heart and pulled the trigger. Either way, she was bleeding internally. Trish's anger was as black as the night and it was burning as fiercely as a blazing fire in the heat of the desert. Her reflection was haunting and she couldn't even stand to look at herself. Before even processing it, Trish slammed her fist straight into the glass, her reflection now shattering into a million pieces..just like her very soul had. Crimson blood poured from her open wounds but she hardly noticed. Bitter hatred had numbed her to the core. Was her life some kind of joke? Did some higher power find it pleasureful to cause her the worst pain imaginable? Trish had begun to believe it. She glanced down at the blood that was now coloring the peach carpet and began to panic. It was three in the morning..who the hell was she going to find at this hour for medical attention? She refused to go to the emergency room so she'd made up her mind..she'd care for herself. Trish spent the next twenty minutes picking out as much of the glass as possible from her wounds and finding hotel rags to rip up and use for bandages. It would have to do until the morning. The only real problem was stopping the bleeding. If she called Stacy, the Baltimore native would go into a tizzy, freak out and force her to go to the hospital, where she'd spend the next year awaiting help. That wasn't about to happen. Trish was on her own right now. A long night lay ahead for the diva and she was welcoming it with open arms. The pain in her hand would have prevented her from slumber anyway, even if she had been tired. All traces of exhaustion had seemed to fly away at Dave's confession. How could he? She'd been true to him..well, sort of. The thought of Randy made her stomach drop in both guilt and sudden arousal. Evil intentions began to brew deep within the Canadian blonde as she stare into the darkness, her anger for her lover growing more with each passing second. How would Dave feel if she got bitter revenge? If he got a taste of his own medicine? And she knew the man she wanted to help her fulfill her dark, twisted scheme..a man Dave despised along with John Cena..and that man was Randy Keith Orton.