Published September 2011; This didn't come from the public Beyond The Mat roleplay website. This came from elsewhere; Randy's character with another writer's OC diva character were in a long-term relationship. This relationship's beginning can be found in our story "Ladies, Do Not Let RKO Buy You Anything". It ended badly, though. Here's how it went down.

Breaking is never easy. It wasn't easy the first time Hunter had allowed it, and it was probably less easy now.

Randy was older now.

Had been given the time to sort and straighten his shit out.

Yet for every step forward, there were 2 steps back.

"It's not ever gonna get any better," he said, completely losing his shit. "It does, then it gets all fucked up again."

Randy had been through a lot of women. Not as many as Hunter, most likely, simply because of the change of climate of the business. The 90s were a much crazier time. But he still had more than his fair share, and his problems always seemed to stem from unloading those problems onto some of the women.

The ones he'd chosen to love.

The ones he couldn't give a shit about had the good stories about him.

The ones he did love, including one who he gave his name, had horror stories that would probably all be shared publicly someday.

Did he LIKE being this way? NO. Sure, it felt good sometimes to not carry the weight of the world on his own shoulder. To have a female partner carrying some of the load, like how Sam used to run the house, that had felt good. It felt traditional. Appropriate. And how did Randy thank her? By screwing everything he could get his hands on. By verbally and emotionally abusing her. Breaking her. Having her birth 2 of his kids and then chase her away.

Eve had gotten lucky, actually. Because Randy at least was providing something for her, and he'd known himself well enough to stop before he'd put his hands on her. The overwhelming warning signs that he was going to had screamed in his head like sirens. He realized that any woman who loved him would end up being resented in some way, shape or form, because this perfect ideal that exists in his head, ONLY exists in his head.

That perfect ideal can suck the chrome off a muffler, so to speak, by providing the best blowjob. Her cunt is as tight as the glove OJ tried to put on and failed in front of the jury. The house is spotless, she always looks as if she came out of a salon, always smiling, always cheerful. Kids are always kept perfectly, dog always smells freshly bathed. Always something on the stove, even though he'll more than likely not eat it, always just a tone of...happiness. And mentally giving him a run enough for his money..be it informing him of current events he barely pays attention to on the headlines that run on his phone, because he doesn't sit and read the paper like Cowboy did in the mornings he was home..just tell him what's going on in the world around him sometimes since he barely has a chance to look up. Talk to him, but not too much. Like, don't complain. Know enough about his world, but not to the point where you're getting injured, too. Love him enough to make him not want to drink. Or use any substances that'll get him his 3rd strike with the company and fired.

Yet he knows that's impossible.

Yet he can't let it go.

He was practically fucking sobbing by the time Hunter led him to the bench. He was 3 inches taller than Hunter, but that didn't matter since Hunter's muscle mass was more than Randy's. He'd guided Randy with ease to the bench, to sit and get himself together.

"I'm sorry," was what he'd gotten out.

Sorry for being a fuckup.

Sorry for pulling Hunter away from the reason he was even in Tampa. They'd had almost an hour and the workout had been minimal. Hunter hadn't even gotten a spot on the weight bench.

Sorry for looking worse in Hunter's eyes. Because Hunter's opinion meant a lot. Fuck the company. He meant man to man.

Slowly, he was starting to go more still, forearms on thighs as he sat, and his breathing started to regulate. Emotions were going back in check. Not to the total numbness, but enough to keep it together, enough to function.

Hunter pretty much hovered over Randy again. Instead of as a spotter, he was more of a mother hen at the moment. The hand was reassuringly on Randy's shoulder and should anybody walk in, Hunter's body was positioned so any view of Randy would be blocked and concealed.

Fortunately, nobody came in and could say they witnessed anything or heard anything. While it might've felt to Randy to be a long time in collecting himself, it hadn't been that long at all.

"I'm drivin' you home. I'll walk you in, I'll help you start this, but you've gotta finish it..and yes, Randy, you've got to see the doctor. Not for me. Not for the company. For yourself. For your kids." He didn't say for anyone else, because he knew Randy's heart, first and foremost, were those kids, as any actually loving father's heart would be.

He had Randy go wash his face, and afterward, walked out with him. Hunter had called the driver as Randy smoked a cigarette, and by the time the cigarette was stubbed out, the car service had returned.

Hunter gave Randy's address and within 20 minutes, they were driven to the part of the driveway closest to the front of the house. Hunter had the car remain there as he walked Randy inside.