Alright, time for the real thing to begin. Hope you guys enjoy!
Show day came the next day, and Lothar was within walking distance of the Bank of America Stadium. He spent most of his time in the city buying souvenirs with the credit he was given by Dusty. Most of it he spent on t-shirts and knick-knacks that he can easily fit in his bag for traveling, but he didn't take the opportunity to visit any attractions, for they were a pretty long walk from where he was staying.
After hours went by in the day, show time was approaching, and Lothar headed to the stadium. He did not have to wait in line, for he was a VIP with his ticket as the voucher. After walking a heck of a distance for an enclosed building, he came to his reserved seat just along the barricade, just as Dusty promised. He could smell the sweat of WWE superstars already, envisioning himself getting pummeled by one during a match that ended up being taken outside of the ring. The feeling made his blood boil in excitement, for that would be the perfect time to strike back and get his foot in the door of the company.
"The Authority will never see it coming," he said to himself, "I can only imagine what they'll do to me afterwards, but it'll be worth it. Either way, I'm still promised a show on NXT. Dusty will be there to secure that."
Eight 'o clock was approaching, and the announcers – Michael Cole and JBL – entered with their themes. Lothar cringed at the sight of JBL, booing him. JBL only tipped his white cowboy hat and smiled, which made Lothar scoff. The guy's announcing put a bad taste in Lothar's mouth. Sure, he may have been a heel announcer, but even THAT needs certain flair to be effective. In Lothar's opinion, JBL's hatred for faces and support for heels is incredibly forced, which is a major turn-off. The two announcers were followed by Jerry "the King" Lawler, which refreshed Lothar's throat.
From then on, Lothar spent the rest of the night half-asleep at what was said to be "entertainment." He thought seeing it live would make it a different experience, but it was just the same boring show, just louder and smellier. The only part of the show that Lothar perked up at was when Roman Reigns started arguing with the other two members of the Shield, but only for a minute or two before they started agreeing with each other.
"Damn it, Roman, why aren't you running solo yet?" Lothar muttered through his teeth, gripping the edge of the barricade to where his hand became sore when he let go. The pain was tolerable, though, especially with the burning feeling deep within him that wanted to go up into the ring and strangle half the roster.
At last, the main event came. The match was made at the start of RAW, which Lothar only remembered vaguely was Randy Orton versus Big-E Langston. Apparently, those two have been going at it ever since Orton made a racial remark towards his title reign, following with the idea that he might face him for the Intercontinental Championship and win a third title. Lothar cringed at the idea. It's bad enough there are two titles on one man, but THREE?
How does that make it fair to the rest of the roster?, he thought, each title piled on is just one less chance for a deserving champion to emerge. What a train-wreck this is turning out to be.
The match was in heat when Langston was on the brink of winning. With this momentum, Lothar couldn't help but cheer him on despite the slim odds that he'll follow through on it. The upper hand has been on Langston for a while, and the entire crowd was off the edge of their seats roaring for his victory against the biggest disappointment in wrestling history…
The cheers immediately turned into boos when Orton gained momentum with a mere elbow, pulling off the DDT from the ropes and nailing Langston with an RKO. Langston lost via count-out, and the entire stadium echoed with disappointment, but It all paled in comparison to how Lothar felt. His face turned cherry red with several veins swelling in his forehead. His hands were on the verge of busting from gripping the barricade, and he could hear his canines cracking from gritting his teeth. Words could not be conjured because they all burned up before they escaped his mouth.
Randy stood tall with his head slightly tilted back with a confident look on his smug face. His mouth made a cunning smirk that generated more heat than a gas grill in a concrete cellar. He went over to the edge of the ring to grab a microphone, clearing his throat:
"You all thought he was going to win…" Boos couldn't be any easier to obtain, "…does NOBODY know what's good for business?! The Authority, Triple H and Stephanie McMahon, could not have picked a better champion! The Apex Predator, Randy Orton, started immediately as the Legend Killer! I was BORN a legend! I earned more in ticket sales in arenas like this in a MONTH than half of you all earned in a full year's salary!" The stadium was literally rattling with angry fans, "I bet none of you are even capable of looking me in the eye and lasting a minute! In fact, I DARE one of you to step up and look me right in the face and see if you last a measly minute!"
Lothar could not have been more tempted, but he waited for the right moment.
"…no one? You see? That's what I thought! Y'all are a much of weak…"
Randy's back was turned to the crowd opposite of Lothar. The opportunity was taken right at that moment when Lothar jumped the seats and onto the edge of the ring.
"…useless…"
Lothar entered the ring through the middle rope, remaining behind Orton as he spoke. The crowd was riled up at the sight.
"…pathetic…"
Lothar could hear the announcers flailing their arms:
"What the hell?!"
"Did he come out from the crowd?!"
"I guess he's about to answer Randy's call!"
"…but he's not even allowed to cross the barricade!"
Lothar's eyes widened with a wide, devious grin as he locked onto Orton,
"…mindless, self-indulgent half-wits!"
Lothar pranced up to an uncomfortable distance from Randy's back, grabbing the microphone from over his shoulder and pulling it up to his mouth, "We're half wits, huh?! I'll show you half-wit!" Startled, Randy flinched away and locked eyes with Lothar just before Lothar flung himself towards him and bashed his head with his own. Dazed and confused, Randy fell backwards in bewilderment as Lothar caught up with him, holding him by the temples, planting his forehead onto his, and falling back on his butt, knocking Randy out cold and lying in the middle of the ring. Lothar still had the mic in his hands, letting the ovation he caused sink in. He raised the mic to his lips:
"So this is what the Authority calls a 'big seller'?!" The crowd was so stunned that half of it was silent. The other half heckled at the controversial moment. Lothar turned toward the curtain, where security guards started coming out of.
"Yeah, that's right, Triple H, arrest the guy that everyone's cheering for!" The crowd confirmed that for him, "Ironic, isn't it? You expect a poser like this to bring good business when a weak little guy from the audience comes up and owns him with one heatbutt? You call that business?! Well let's see how your business turns out when you sell THIS!" Lothar dropped the mic and raised both of his hands in the air, each raising the middle finger. The entire crowd simultaneously shouted "HELL YEAH!", knowing what this guy's goal was.
The security guards surrounded him, constraining him in cuffs and being escorted out of the arena through the curtain with one guard holding each arm. As he was being escorted, he mouthed off the company, which only could be understood by the guards due to a lack of a microphone. The crowd chanted "NO! NO! NO!" towards the escort, but as soon as he disappeared behind the Titantron, the arena heckled the entire building through its bricks.
