Randy Orton was bored. The nights, so redundant, all seemed to run together. Wrestling was his love, it was the only thing he was good at anyway. He had failed miserably in the Marine Corp and everyone knew that a regular 9 to 5 would not have suited him. He was a natural in the ring and excelled at every challenge before him. Besides, it made the Old Man proud. For Randy, he couldn't ask for more than that. But as exciting as life was on the road, Randy still wasn't satisifed. He worked out like a fiend in order to keep that killer body in tip top shape and he gave his all every single night in front of the live audience. Aside from that, he felt empty. There was an indescribable feeling of having thousands chant your name, want your autograph and be willing to do whatever it took to be in your presence. But as soon as he walked up that ramp, it all seemed to disappear. He was then left with a void, one that nameless women and alcohol bottles could not fill even though he tried night in and night out.

Frowning, he looked down. The old saying went that sex was good even when it was bad. Randy smirked to himself. Whoever had come up with that one obviously hadn't fucked around with Brandy. Or was it Bethany. No, Brittany. Maybe she had told him Bonnie. Whatever the hell it was it, it started with a B. Regardless, she had looked way prettier sitting in the front row of the arena. It turned out that she was a few pounds heavier than he had originally thought, she had the personality of a fruit fly and was proceeding to give him the worst blow job he'd ever had in his entire life. It didn't even feel good anymore, in fact, it was starting to get annoying.

"Get out," he stated matter of factly.

"What?" the girl asked confused, taking a temporary break from her head bobbing.

He gave her an icy stare.

"You heard me. I said get out."

"You're joking, right?"

"Do I look like I'm in a kidding mood?"

"But we were just getting started," she teased in a pouty voice, slowly stroking the length of his semi hard cock.

"And now we're just finishing up," he told her, swatting her away like a fly. "You suck…no pun intended."

The girl looked hurt but he didn't care. He only stood and pulled up his pants and underwear, motioning for her to get the hell off his bus. She hurried to get dressed and left sobbing and embarrassed but Randy didn't care. That was how he did it. When he was done with you, he was done and that was the end of it. That was what made him different from his BFF John Cena. Cena was the nice guy, the one who let the irritating chicks sleep in his room until checkout. Sometimes the fool even allowed them to order room service on his dime. And when he really wanted them out, he didn't even have the balls to give them the boot. He said it made him feel guilty, the spineless pussy. Instead he would devise a plan to have one of the other guys call and summon him for an "emergency". It was his way of bailing but still being the good guy.

Randy Orton only laughed at that. Rarely did he take women back to his hotel room anyway. That required way too much effort and usually turned out to be too much trouble. His tour bus was more than good enough. And best of all when he was done, when he had gotten off, he could simply kick them out, sometimes still in their bras and panties. And he did so without a second thought. John and the other guys loved to tell him how cold he was, how wrong he was for treating women like that but Randy didn't feel bad. Those women had no self respect. They were groupies, ring rats. They were dirty whores. They knew what they were getting into, in fact they chased after it. They deserved everything they got. It was just a fuck and a couple of drinks…nothing more. They knew the deal and if they didn't, he'd be sure to make it more than clear. Randy sighed as he reached over and mixed a shot of Ketel One vodka with his sugar free Red Bull. The plan was to drive to the next city but all of a sudden, he had other ideas. They were in New Orleans after all. There had to be something to get into and whatever it was, he was going to find it. It was sure to make for a semi interesting rest of the evening.

"Randy!"

Randy rolled his eyes as he heard knocking on the bus door and someone screaming his name. He knew immediately who it was.

"DiBiase, what the hell do you want?"

"Let me in, man."

"No. Go away."

"Come on, Ran. It's important," Teddy whined.

Most of the guys in the locker room looked up to him. Randy did not find it flattering nor did he accept the responsibility that came with being a role model. They got on his nerves. His kinship with Cena was real but everybody else in that locker room could go to hell as far as he was concerned. When he needed them, he expected them to be there. When he didn't, he expected them to disappear.

"Fine, come in but make it quick…and don't ever call me Ran again."

Teddy burst through the doors, permanent pout etched on his handsome face.

"I need to talk to you."

Poor Teddy looked frantic.

"Who peed in your Jack Daniels?"

"I…dude, what the fuck? It smells like rotten pussy in here."

Randy shrugged.

"Yeah, she was pretty gross. Don't know what I was thinking. Betty or Beverly or Bridget…something like that, who gives a fuck? What are you doing here, man? What do you want?"

"I'm pissed off."

"Who the hell do I look like, fucking Dr. Phil? You think I give a shit?"

"No but come on. I don't have anyone else to talk to. All the guys already went out or they are headed to the next city and Cody is hooking up with some chick."

"Make it fast. You've got three minutes…"

"Did you see what happened with my match out there tonight?"

Randy shook his head.

"Nope. Came in just in time to shoot my promo, do my match and get the hell out of dodge. Why?"

"But I thought Vince said we had to be there for the whole show and be in the arena by 2 p.m. every Monday before RAW."

"Vince did say that but what's he gonna do, fire me?"

Randy had a point. He was one of the top billers. Disrespectful and rebellious or not, Vince's hands were tired.

"I wrestled Phil tonight," Teddy continued.

"And?"

"I was supposed to win via DQ."

"So? Look, get to the point or get off my bus. I have better things to do than listen to you cry."

"I didn't want to. Eveyone knows Phil has that hip injury so he'll be out of action for a while. I think they're gonna have him do commentary with The King and with Cole. Anyway, they're jumping through hoops to make sure he has this glorious exit, plus he's probably gonna get a huge push when he gets back. Where does that leave guys like me? I'll tell you, in the dust somewhere. It's crazy. And it's not fair. I work my ass off. Not only that, I'm a third generation Superstar. I'm tired of playing the mid car and jobbing to douche bags or getting bullshit wins like they wanted me to do tonight."

"Then do something about it," Randy challenged.

"I did…or at least I tried to. You know they were short on refs tonight so they had that new chick Memphis or Nashville or whatever the hell her name is officiate my match."

"What?" Randy's ears perked up like a German Shepherd's. "Memphis was your referee tonight?"

"Yeah. Anyway, she's a girl and everybody knows why Vince hired her in the first place. I, I figured I could change things up a little bit. I didn't tell her or Phil and I just started going crazy on the offense and the plan was to hit Dream Street and force him to sell and let me win by pinfall."

"What happened?"

"That stupid bitch happened. She totally intefered, man. You should have seen her all up in my business like she owns the place. I was so pissed off, I pushed her."

"You pushed her?"

"Damn right."

"What did she do,cry?"

Teddy hung his head.

"No…she, she, she…"

"She what? Spit it out, retard."

"She pushed me back…hard."

Randy had to laugh.

"You let some stupid girl push you around on national television?"

"She humiliated me, Randy. My dad was watching and she made me look like a complete asshole."

"Not hard to do but I concur."

"I'm serious, dude."

"Alright, alright."

"I had the perfect plan and she had to ruin it. She fixed it so Phil still got to do his spot and I got the win on a countout, a countout, man. Can you believe it? I'm so pissed. I want to get her back. I don't like her, no one does but I need help. She's out of control. Vince came up to us after the match and you know what happened? She didn't even get in trouble. In fact, he praised her, practically kissed her ass. Then he had the nerve to yell at me in front of everyone. Called me a sniveling jackass."

"You are a sniveling jackass," Randy smirked.

"Come on, man…"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Help me teach her a lesson. I want her to look like a fool just like she did to me. You're the leader of that locker room. People fear you. They respect you. They'll listen to you."

Randy thought for a minute. Teddy was a moron most of the time but he did have a point. Memphis was a bitch. She was on a high horse with her nose so far in the air that she couldn't see straight. She walked around with a sense of entitlement like she was going to take over. She had dared stand up to him and disrespect him. She'd had the nerve to butt in his business with Hannah and on top of that, when he had shown her a little mercy and graciously offered a sympathy fuck, she'd had the nerve to turn him down. Randy did not like her at all and had decided weeks ago that the WWE would be a better place without her. He did carry a lot of clout backstage but probably not enough to just go up to Vince McMahon and demand she be fired. He would have to get rid of her another way.

"Memphis is an annoying bitch. I can't stand her."

"That makes two of us."

"Vince has plans for her, you know he's not just gonna get rid of her."

"I figured that," Teddy grumbled. "What can we do?"

An evil grin appeared on Randy's face.

"We can't force anyone's hand to fire her but we can force her to quit."

"What did you have in mind?"

"She tries to play this tough role but she is so transparent that it is pathetic. She's not tough, she's a punk inside. She cares way too much what people think of her. Well, you hate her and I hate her and if we get everyone else to hate her, she'll fold quicker than a bad Poker hand."

"Sounds good," Teddy grinned. "I'm game. How do we go about it?"

"Nothing like some good old fashioned hazing. Ribbing is an age old tradition in wrestling, right? Harmless fun and pranks. Let's say we turn up the heat a little bit. They say if you can't stand the heat, then get out of the kitchen. If we get a few of the other boys on board and make it a little hot and she can't handle it…not our fault, right?"

"Right," Teddy put his hands in the air. "We're innocent."

"Cool," Randy bumped his fist before taking another swig of his drink. "Operation Get This Stupid Cunt Out Of My Locker Room is in effect."

"When?"

"Immediately. Why waste precious time, right? Just have a few drinks, calm down from tonight, go get laid if any woman in her right man will sleep with your goofy ass, and tomorrow in the next city we make this trick regret the day she ever signed that contract in Stamford."

"Hell yeah," Teddy readily agreed.

Randy sat back, that classic Viper stare, the one he used on television to tantalize the fans and intimidate his opponents, spread across his face. He had a score to settle with Memphis Kramer and now it was time to make things even.