Funky. It's on a roll.

[Cory]

The man the wrestling world knew as Brodus Clay found himself pacing uncomfortably in the hall way. This was probably going to be the boldest move he'd ever made on his way to a professional career, and he was nervous, and probably rightfully so. Yes, definitely the biggest, boldest move of his life. Even bigger than agreeing to go out with two girls and dance, and poorly at that. Not to mention the unfortunate business that one of those women was the one who infamously looked at Steve Austin with big stupid, doe eyes and proclaimed her favorite match, in the history of the world, of all freakin' time was not Bret and Shawn with the ladder, Steve Austin and The Rock, Hogan and Andre, Undertaker and.... anyone. No, it had been Melina versus Alicia Fox. And she had looked up at a living legend, a man with history, with records, with loads of fanfare, with that big stupid aloofness having never once realized she had done anything wrong. The audience might have laughed at Steve Austin' aghast, "What?" if it weren't for the fact that they were all saying the same thing. George Murdoch guessed that's what this moment would be, and he finally clenched his fist and laid it heavily against the RKO logo on the door. He didn't have to wait long as the door opened wide. Randy hadn't yet changed into his gear, he was still in his favored t-shirt and jeans combo. He had the look of a man who didn't expect who he was seeing as a visitor.

Randy Orton: Sup.

Brodus Clay: Yeah, hey, Randy, man. I know we've not really met or worked together before, but uh tonight, you know... ummm...

George wasn't at all impressed with Randy. His body was far more athletic of course, but they were equal in height. He didn't much care about his titles or accomplishments, but one thing was certain, before him was the longest reigning EBWF World Champion in history. It was unthinkable that he wouldn't be in the final four of the King of the Ring tournament. George just had to muster the courage to request that his good favor didn't end here. He couldn't keep from stammering.

Brodus Clay: I was hoping you'd let us finish the entrance, it's the only TV time the girls get...

Randy had a slight tick, and tilted his head to the right. What the hell did that mean? Oh God, he was going to punt him right here. RKO in the hallway, Brodus had heard these things.

Brodus Clay: I've had a pretty decent push so far, and they're talking about a program with Anderson soon.

Randy gave a sort of dismissive, or was it sinister, chuckle. Did he not get along with Anderson? Or did he not plan to let Brodus live through the evening?

Brodus Clay: I was just coming by to let you know I can take the scoop slam, no problem. I uh, I can jump that no problem, help you out there. I thought maybe, you know, if you don't mind... maybe not give the DDT or the punt or anything. Just a quick RKO. You know, not uh, totally bury me... keep it sort of even and then flash RKO. Then maybe I'll look alright going into the next thing for the PPV.

George Murdoch let out an uncontrollable sigh of relief, glad that was over. It took all the wits he had not to flinch and wait for the clubbing blow to the side of head. Instead, Randy thought it over and nodded to himself.

Randy Orton: Yeah man, that sounds pretty good. Let me know if you want to work some spots out. I don't mind bumpin' around a little bit.

Brodus Clay: You don't? Um, yeah... yeah, I mean... sure, I'll let you know.

He saw Randy's eyebrow shoot up again, and Brodus shrugged.

Brodus Clay: Sorry, I just heard you'd be a little harder to talk to. People say you're sort of, um... sort of a dick.

Randy quickly flashed a smirk. This was more of a conversation that was his pace.

Randy Orton: I'm sure... people have their reasons.

Before he could thank Randy and excuse himself, a deep voice cut through the air from the right.

Wes Ikeda: Oh, you're both here.

George thought he saw Randy sigh with annoyance and his eyes look to the heavens for some sort of sweet relief.

Brodus Clay: I was just leaving, Mr. Ikeda.

Wes Ikeda; Please, it's Wes.

Wes cleared the space with his hand extended for a handshake. Randy didn't sigh, or roll his eyes, so George assumed this was genuine. He shook Wes' hand.

Wes Ikeda: Are you settling in okay?

Brodus Clay: I am. Thank you for the opportunity.

Clearly, unamused by watching his brother in law get his ass kissed, Randy cleared his throat.

Randy Orton: She's not here, Wes. She and Jessica found a Coach Outlet, and I'm more than certain my appearance fee for tonight has already been spent.

Wes Ikeda: Nah, that's not it. I was coming to talk to you two about the finish tonight.


Randy Orton: We were just working out the finer details, actually. Got somethin' special in mind?

Wes Ikeda: Nah you guys will make it your own. Brodus, you're going over. Good work this past month. See you out there.

Wes turned to walk away. He was already down the hallway, Brodus staring at his back. Randy had simply shrugged. Maybe it was his new found confidence due to his successful chat with Randy, whatever it was he stared at Wes' back and just spat out exactly what he thought.

Brodus Clay: That has got to be the most God Damn ridiculous thing I've ever heard, and I come out to a disco ball in the ring and call myself the Funkasaurus! Have you lost your damn mind? Ain't no planet I could beat Randy Orton on.

Randy said nothing. His eyes simply widened, surprised by Brodus' outburst. He leaned back on the door frame and folded his arms. Had he been able to produce a bag of popcorn, he likely would have. As predicted, Wes turned slowly, his head swiveled toward Brodus, and he was suddenly back to the both of them.

Wes Ikeda: What. did you. say to me?

Two options, Murdoch. Recoil, apologize profusely, all in front of Randy Orton. Or prove your balls are bigger than your brain. Your choice.

Brodus Clay: I said, this is the dumbest idea you've had since you kept your girlfriend out of the Queen of the Ring tournament.

There was a perennial smirk on Randy's face. It was obvious he liked this guy.

Wes Ikeda: Listen, I appreciate your concern for Randy's career prospects, but the truth is, nobody wants to see CM Punk against Randy Orton.

Brodus Clay: Uh, I do.

Randy Orton: What he means is no one wants to see it as a random semi-final match in the middle of the King of the Ring PPV. The brackets were random. The picks were bad, too many huge names on the left hand. They'd rather lead you to slaughter to put Punk over, than me. So, while I appreciate you defending whatever legacy you've made up for me. You're actually doing me a favor, because everyone knows Wes wants Phil to win the King of the Ring tournament, and he's got to get him to the final two to make his case to the board. You beat me on your undefeated hot streak, and fall to Punk. And now Wes smiles at you like he's doing you a favor.

Brodus nodded.

Brodus Clay: Well, who am I to turn down one of the final four spots in the King of the Ring tournament? You can count on me, Mr...er... Wes. For all of it.

Wes gave him a hard pat on the shoulder.

Wes Ikeda: Glad to hear it.

Wes started to walk off again, but stopped and looked back toward them.

Wes Ikeda: Oh, and Brodus...

Brodus flinched.

Wes Ikeda: Thanks for your honesty.

Wes turned, walked off, and went around the corner. When his footsteps finally faded, Brodus looked at Randy as if the last 10 minutes hadn't happened.

Brodus Clay: Right, quick RKO, then?

Randy arched his eyebrow and put his hands up.

Randy Orton: Listen, um...what was it again?

Brodus Clay: George.

Randy Orton: You... have a last name?

Brodus Clay: Murdoch.

Randy Orton: Yeah, that's much better. Murdoch, I don't think that's such a good idea. Wes always has his reasons for what he does.

Brodus Clay: They're not gonna blow their Punk vs. Cena load all over the tournament, especially since Destiny is a B-show unless it has a huge main event. So... that means the main event at King of the Ring is either Punk vs. Barretta or Cody Rhodes. If I win tonight, they'll use my match at the PPV to save time. Punk'll squash me in three minutes.

Brodus emphasized the number three by putting his middle, ring, and pinkie fingers up in Randy's face.

Brodus Clay: If you beat me tonight, you might only be in the third match, but you and Punk would be the best match of the night. You and me can put on a good match and I'll stay strong, and the next show is even better.

Randy scratched the back of his neck. He tilted his head and looked Brodus over.

Randy Orton: You didn't exactly come in on the last truckload of turnips, did you Murdoch?

Brodus Clay: They taught me more than legdrops at NXT, you know? But here's the trick. If we do this, you have to be the one who says it was your idea. He won't fire you.

Randy grinned.

Randy Orton: Trust me.

Randy clapped Clay on the shoulder.

Randy Orton: If you knew why you had a job in the first place, you'd know that you were pretty safe. C'mon, lets go work out some spots.

Randy and Brodus walked out of Randy's room and headed back to the main arena entrance. Randy still hadn't decided if he was going to get in trouble with his new friend, but a nagging little voice was telling him it had been too long since he pissed off his boss. It wasn't quite the same without his best friend, but it might make for some fun.