The bus pulled up to the back of the arena in Portland, Oregon. It came to a slow stop at the side entrance as the driver, Frank, looked back at his passenger and employer.

"We're here, ."

Randy barely looked up. Grabbing his bags, he stood up and exited the bus without so much as a thank you, good bye or any other acknowledgement. He made his way into the venue and as he did, the other WWE employees quickly dispersed. The Viper's reputation preceded him and others found it best to just stay out of his way. He was one of the most talented and popular Superstars but it came at a price. Some wrestlng A listers were referred to as the "conscience of the WWE" or the "soul of the WWE". If that was the case, Randal Keith Orton could be referred to as the "terror of the WWE".

He was fresh off the lastest suspension, his second that year, this time a 7 day stint, punishment for his offensive behavior of calling the Divas "cunts". He had been fined several times for his verbal slip ups but to a man making over two million dollars a year with the company, a few thousand here and there was nothing. He was tolerated but not well liked and he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, he was invincible…no one could touch him. Skating on thin ice, he had finally been ordered by the WWE to seek psychiatric treatment weekly in order to iron out any "mental issues". To Randy that was a joke as well. He went to the appointments whenever he felt like and skipped them at a moment's notice. When he did go, he particularly enjoyed terrorizing the therapist or playing mind games by not speaking for the entire hour. After all, it was on Vince McMahon's dime not his own.

Randy Orton was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any given second, his actions often unpredictable and volatile. It was a true shame for one with so much promise. Born April 1, 1980 in Knoxville, Tennesse, he was the first born child of WWE Hall of Famer "Cowboy" Bob Orton and his wife, Elaine. Sister Becky and little brother Nathan had come along later. Their grandfather and uncle had been wrestlers as well so he had been bitten by the bug at an early age. Some of his first memories including playing around the dinner table with the likes of legends like the Junkyard Dog and Andre the Giant. A standout amatuer wrestler at Hazelwood Central High School in, he had graduated in 1998. His parents had hoped he would go to college after years of discouraging him of entering the business. Rebellious, he had instead joined the United States Marine Corp.

Randy had quickly found out that the Corp was not for him. Too proud to admit to the Old Man that he had made a mistake, he stuck with it as long as possible. After going AWOL and disobeying several orders, he had finally been driven over the edge by a single incident that had haunted him every day since. They were the nightmares that made him afraid to go to sleep, the ones that made him wake up screaming in a cold sweat. The second AWOL landed him a special court martial that resulted in 38 days in military prision as well as a bad conduct discharge.

Two years later he debuted professionally at a local St. Louis promotion. In 2001 he was signed under a developmental contract with the WWE and after performing in Ohio Valley Wrestling, the rest had been history. His rise had been swift and it seemed destined. He had quickly climbed the ladder of success and one push had helped him becomes the youngest world champion on WWE history. It was also during that time that he met another young talent who would become one his best friends and one of the few stabalizing forces in his life…John Cena.

The friendship was solid and John was one of the few people who understood Randy and knew how to deal with him. He also didn't take his bullshit and that had established a mutual respect over the years. When everyone else in the locker room had tired of him and prayed that one of the many suspensions would lead to termination, it was John who was always in his corner, desperately trying to help his friend get on the path of the straight and narrow, a feat sometimes too difficult even for Super Cena.

Carrying his gym bag, Randy sat it inside the locker room and began to slink down the corridors of the hall. He knew he had missed a staff meeting but it was too early to start getting ready for the show. He was bored and usually that meant trouble for everyone else. Looking for something to get into or someone to piss off, he smiled when he found his first victim. Victoria Crawford was better known to the WWE Universe by her ring name, Alicia Fox. She was a nice girl and for Randy, an easy target. He found her stretching, presumably warming up for her match later that evening.

"What's up with you?" he stood over her, tattooed arms folded, permanent smirk etched across his handsome face.

She looked up before quickly looking away.

"What does it look like? I'm trying to get ready for tonight, Orton. What do you want?"

"Whoa, whoa," he put both hands up in a defensive manner. "What's with the attitude? No need to get all testy. I was just coming by to say hi and wish you luck for tonight."

She raised one suspicious, perfectly arched eyebrow.

"You're wishing me luck? Why? What's the catch?"

"There is no catch. You sound surprised," he pretended to be hurt. "What? I'm a nice guy."

She wasn't buying the act for a second. In fact, his mere presence made her uncomfortable. He wasn't a good guy and him being around meant he was up to something undoubtely no good. Victoria wanted no part of it.

"Well thanks."

He continued to stand around. She tried her best to ignore him, hoping, praying that he would jusy go away and find someone else to mess with. No such luck. Pretending he wasn't ogling her, she continued her workout. As she bent over for a side stretch, his blue eyes twinkled as they followed the near perfect form of her ass.

"Damn. What a view."

She quickly stood.

"Would you stop? Please."

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like you want me on your plate. That's rude."

"Why? Does that make you uncomfortable?" he took a few more steps closer.

Randy knew it did and that was the whole point. He loved when his very presence intimidated people. He got off on their fear.

"Actually, it does."

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" he leaned over and breathed into her ear. "In fact, I want you to be nice and relaxed for later."

"What happens later?"

"You know…you, me, your hotel room or mine…I'll be a gentleman and let you choose."

She huffed. There was absolutely nothing gentlemanly about Randy Orton.

"That will never happen."

"Never say never," he inched closer, touching her arm. "Besides, I always thought you were a fan of the white meat, at least that's what I heard."

"Randy, leave me alone. That's disgusting."

Her eyes were wide and she was nervous. The fun was just beginning.

"Hey man, are you deaf?"

Randy frowned before turning around to face the person who owned the voice that had just interrupted his little game.

"Cena."

Just like the Golden Boy to arrive and save the day. Randy felt just like he did in the ring in one of the scripted moments when in the middle of a sinister promo, "My Time Is Now" would blare over the speakers and the People's Champ would run down the ramp to thunderous applause to confront the WWE champ.

"Everything okay here, Victoria?" John asked.

She nodded, breathing a sigh of relief that an eqaulizer had shown up.

"It is now," she took the opportunity to escape.

Randy laughed out loud as she scurried down the hall.

"Randy, what the hell are you doing, man?" John just shook his head. "What is wrong with you?"

"I was just having a little innocent fun until you had to come and screw everything up like usual."

"Screw everything up? You mean by saving your sorry ass from a possible sexual harrassment claim?"

Randy shrugged.

"Yeah right. That bitch doesn't have the balls."

"Dude, you seriously need to calm down. You just came off of one suspension. Another one and that might be it…seriously. Can we have just one night without any trouble?"

"Suit yourself," Randy began walking away, John hot on his heels.

"You missed the meeting with Creative tonight. Everyone was supposed to be here by two."

"So?"

"So Vince was pissed. Don't worry, I saved your ass and made up some excuse about your bus having mechanical trouble or some shit like that so try to stick to the story."

"Whatever."

"You're welcome."

"I didn't ask you for any favors."

John rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna ignore that one. Anyway, you got a promo at the beginning of RAW tonight. Then you're in the Main Event with Stu. The rest you can go over with the guys."

"Great. I see we're still harping on the same tired ass Nexus angle."

"The fans love it. It's different and it works."

Randy ignored his friend, instead patting the pockets of his jeans, obviously looking for something.

"Where the hell are my smokes?" he wondered out loud.

"Those things are gonna kill you, besides it doesn't look good for one of the top guys in the company to be caught in public smoking. There's a YouTube video of you bumming cigrettes from fans outside an arena."

"So? They were happy to give them up, besides it saved me a trip to the store," Randy said as he found the rumpled pack.

"Randy…"

"I'll leave all that role model bullshit up to you. I come here and do my job and I do a hell of a job. Kissing babies and smiling for pics with Grandma is for the birds. I'll leave that to you. That's your thing."

There was just no reasoning with Randy and John wondered sometimes why he even bothered.

"I've got to get ready for own match. I'll see you around, man."

They slapped hands.

"Later."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Vince wants to see you."

"About?" Randy gave an annoyed look.

Then it was John's turn to smirk.

"Probably about Hannah Wilson if I was a betting man."

Randy's face instantly tightened.

"Not that stupid bitch again," he mumbled out loud.

"Hey, those are the breaks. Next time be a little more selective about who you pick up and take to bed on the road," John teased.

"You're one to talk," he muttered as his friend walked away, laughing all the way down the hall.

Shaking his head, Randy pulled the cigarette from his mouth. The last thing he needed or wanted as a lecture from Vince. In order to prepare for that, he was going to need something a lot heavier than nicotine. He ducked into one of the janitorial closets and pulled the small plastic baggie from his pocket. He smiled a real smile when he took a look at the small amount of bud inside of it. It wasn't a lot but just enough to do the trick and take the edge off. Besides, he liked smoking weed right before a show and right before hooking up with a ring rat. It always put him in a good mood. Putting the pot in his miniature hand held bowl, he lit it and inhaled slowly, not even caring as the distinct smell seeped out from under the doorway in a cloud of smoke. Closing his eyes, he sank back into his high. He was toking up, getting ready to wrestle and kick ass in front of millions and after that, he would pick out the first pretty girl willing to give it up to him. Yeah life was pretty sweet. It was the good life and it was his life.