Chicken. Rice. Fruit. Salmon. Steak. Assorted salads. Countless other items. The catering table was an amalgamation of foods, the most in demand items from the talent that traveled from show to show. Randy Orton glanced over the table, selecting a big piece of salmon, a large chicken breast, some rice, and a bottle of water. A modest protein boost in preparation for his final workout before the show. A middle aged man walked up next to him, opting for a slightly different path for his food selections. He nodded in Randy's direction as he began piling a load of baked ziti onto his plate.

Man: You know I could definitely look like you if I ate that stuff, but screw that I like pasta too much.

Randy smirked, glancing over at the man addressing him. It was Drew, EBWF's senior cameraman. He supervised the other cameramen who were set up during EBWF's TV programming, and participated a large portion of backstage interviews. Randy had a casual rapport with the 10 year veteran of the company, as they had worked together a lot since Randy had signed with the EBWF in 2008.

Randy Orton: Believe me, the way Nic makes Chicken Tetrazzini, it makes me question whether or not it's worth it to look this good.

Drew: Tetrazzini? Oh, come on man, you know that shit ain't an actual Italian dish, right?

Randy laughed, aware of the irony that his wife of Italian descent, who prided herself on expertly prepared Italian food, occasionally had to make this American dish that was cleverly disguised.

Randy Orton: Drew, I don't care where it came from, it's amazing, and if you start seeing more of me around here in the near future, you can guarantee it'll be on the catering table.

Drew chuckled as he grabbed a couple garlic knots and pushed them up against the mountain of ziti he had collected.

Drew: How's your daughter?

Randy Orton: Great. Been a busy month. Teeth are coming in so she's been a little fussy, but not bad as every parent in the world has told me it would be. She's already crawling around. I'm going to be teaching her the RKO next week.

Drew: And she'll grow up and hit that move better than you ever did.

Randy Orton: Easy now. I may be a dad but I still have an ego that needs inflating.

Drew: You think it's actually gonna happen this time?

Randy Orton: What?

Drew looked up at Randy, his comparatively diminutive 5'11" frame dwarfed by Randy's size.

Drew: You think there going to actually give you a shot to go 3 in a row?

Randy Orton: If they are, they haven't told me.

The two men took their food and sat down at the nearby tables that had been set up for talent and staff to eat. Drew sat opposite Randy, one of the few men in the entire company with the privilege of ever being able to do that. He dug into his ziti with a fork.

Drew: The way I see it, they need you out there. I mean, I'm obviously not the guy making the calls, but with your top level guys being John, Brock, Chris, Solomon. I mean, where are the good guys?

Randy smirked.

Randy Orton: You calling me a good guy?

Drew: Pretend all you want, Randy. You have a daughter now. The good guy's gotta come out, now.

Randy Orton: Well, not tonight. Not yet. Got a 27 year old kid with ridiculous hair calling me old that I need to deal with on the mic.

Drew laughed a little at that.

Drew: Well then, I'mma finish up this pile of pasta then we'll get to it.

The two men finished their meals in silence, then headed to the interview room to prepare for Randy's King of the Ring promo.

~~~

The message has been brought to you by Rated RKO productions.

The scene went from static snow to a crystal clear picture of Randy Orton, standing somewhere backstage at the Pinnacle Bank Arena, where Warfare was set to take place in mere hours. Randy stood front and center behind an EBWF skull backdrop, wearing a "Silent Assassin" t-shirt and a pair of of dark wash jeans. The shirt fit snugly around his frame.

Randy Orton: My name... is Randy Orton. I am your reigning, defending EBWF King of the Ring. I'm very sorry, but I won't be wearing my scepter and crown. After all, I'm not one for looking like an idiot. But feel free to bow to me if you wish.

Randy smirked.

Randy Orton: Speaking of looking like an idiot, I guess we should get down to the topic at hand. Solomon Crowe. A man who has the audacity to call me old. A man who suggests that I retire and spend more time with my family.

He shrugged casually, not entirely concerned with the suggestion.

Randy Orton: First off, if I should retire at the age of 35, then Wes Ikeda is a senior citizen, but that's neither here nor there. Maybe I'll take your advice one day. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll stick around for another ten years, continuing to rob a spot on the roster from a 27 year old up and comer like you with more hair spray than sense. See, its quite amazing that as a 35 year old man, I've been in the business for over a decade, and I'm still younger than a bunch of guys who couldn't dream of having the career I've had. I've been to the top more times than you can count, Solomon. There aren't too many things that I haven't accomplished in this company. The best part is, I'm just getting started. I live for the moment where I get to witness the meteoric rise of EBWF's youngest superstars. Then when it suits me, I get to fly out to Warfare and crush that ascent, and send them back to obscurity. If there's one thing I never tire of, it's the pitter-patter of tears falling to the ground, from wrestlers who realize that as long as I'm around, they'll never get out of the middle of the card.

Randy considered his words, briefly putting up his palm in a stopping gesture.

Randy Orton: You know what, let me backtrack a little, because I don't want to be too hard on you, Solomon. I'll save that for the match.

Randy paused, looking down at the floor. A grin formed on his features.

Randy Orton: Some people have told me that I need to stick around because there aren't enough good guys in the business. With millionaire John Cena suddenly offended that Wes Ikeda is making money off of his name, and Brock Lesnar being the same boring caveman that he always is, and Solomon Crowe pretending he's in the big leagues with the rest of us, there's a shortage of guys willing to give the people something to cheer for. Let me be perfectly clear, that has never been me. It probably never will be me. But I suppose I can pretend for just a moment. Solomon Crowe...

Randy exhaled deeply in preparation for his next statement.

Randy Orton: You're not all terrible. I suppose it's impressive that you rose through the ranks of the EBWF food chain and became the World Champion in a pretty short period of time.

Randy spoke through his teeth, in the most forced way possible.

Randy Orton: You're a good wrestler. You have to be, otherwise you'd have been picked up by TNA by now.

Randy looked past the camera.

Randy Orton: Was that... was I not supposed to say that?

He shrugged, deciding not to concern himself with it anymore.

Randy Orton: Fact is, you wouldn't be here if you weren't at least capable. So, you've got that going for you. The problem is, being a former World Champion isn't enough. Beating John Cena is enough. Hell, I've beaten that guy two or three times. Not even sure why it's an accomplishment anymore. Of all the people in the EBWF today, your star rose the fastest, and it fell most spectacularly. It really is remarkable how you managed to go from the shocking young upstart to... well, you. And that's the difference between you and I. I'm not content breaking one glass ceiling, or shattering one record. I want to break them all. I want to destroy them all. Which leads me to the question you asked me. Why do I continue on? Why not settle down with my new family and enjoy life? There's a simple reason. Never mind the fact that I was the longest reigning EBWF World Champion in history. Never mind the fact that Rated RKO held the tag titles for so long that we GAVE THEM UP because no one could challenge us. Never mind the fact that I'm a back to back King of the Ring Winner, something no one else has done in this company. None of that matters right here and now. What matters is that I want to be the man. What matters is that every day that I'm here, and every moment that I'm in that ring, my one purpose is to make sure everyone knows that there is no one better than Randy Orton. Not Solomon Crowe, not John Cena, not Wes Ikeda, not Chris Jericho, ME. When I'm 52 years old, you can be sure that I'll be out here, hitting RKO's and pinning emo punks like you for the 1, 2, 3, and stealing your spot on the roster. And I can guarantee you that I'll still look incredible doing it. Because let's be honest for a moment here, take a good long look.

Randy smirked, outstretching his arms and doing a full 360 before looking back into the camera.

Randy Orton: At 35 years old, I look better than every person in this company. I'm at the peak of my physical form. My shoulders are stronger than they've ever been, and I feel better than I've ever felt before. Which is more than I can say for you, Crowe. You're 27 and look like a sack of flour with limbs. You know, I've worked with your kind before. I remember a guy named Brian Kendrick who seemed pretty confident that he could take me out. But you know, I had a lot of respect for Kendrick because he was genuinely... messed up. Made me look pretty normal by comparison. But in the end? I put a foot through is skull and he wasn't heard from for a very long time. You? You've done nothing to earn my respect. You're a former world champion? Big deal. I've had that title twice. One reign lasted longer than your career with EBWF to date. So don't think for one moment that I look at you as being on my level, because I don't. Your age means nothing. Your title history means nothing. Your victories mean nothing. You. Mean. Nothing.

Randy shifted his stance, his thumb digging into his jeans pocket. The platinum watch on his wrist, an anniversary gift from his wife, glinted in the camera lens.

Randy Orton: Which brings me to one of my final topics. I did see your little interview, Solomon. I appreciate that you've only been around for a little while. So for a kid like you, it probably seemed like you were opening up Pandora's Box when you brought up my marriage.

Randy smirked, his typical unphased expression on full display.

Randy Orton: Solomon, let me be crystal clear on this. The career I had before even signing with the EBWF was better than you will ever experience in your life. At 27 years old, you've already hit the absolute cap of what you're capable of. You were an experiment, Crowe. Some guy in EBWF HQ probably thought that the look of someone who just stuck their finger in an electrical socket was an "in" look in 2015, and you got a shot at the big title. I hate to break it to you, pal, but the experiment is over. You're yesterday's news. Dolph Ziggler is the latest flavor of the month, and that's left you with a forgettable match against Luke Harper, and then the end of the road in Round Two against Randy Orton. Someone on the thirtieth floor doesn't like you. But I digress. You're not exactly the first person to make the claim that the only reason I'm successful is because of who I'm married to. Lots of people have done that before you. For some reason, it makes people feel better to justify their failures that way. Perhaps it makes the sting much less severe as I'm stepping on you on my way BACK to the top. So I want you to continue going out there and screaming at the top of your lungs that the only reason I am the MAN, is because I married the hottest woman in this company. When you're back where you belong, quibbling over the Breakout Championship on the opening match of Warfare, I will be sitting atop MY throne, as your 2015 King of the Ring. And it will be really hard to hear you from the top of the mountain. But never mind all of that. That's not for another month. Let's just talk about Round 2 for a moment. You and me. You've already shown me that you lack certain critical thinking skills. If for some reason, you're not smart enough to run screaming from the Pinnacle Bank Arena before our match begins, and I have no reason to believe that you are, then you will be introduced to the real me. The one that doesn't concern himself with things like ethics, or sportsmanship. The one that doesn't stop just because the bell has rung. The one that doesn't let up just because a little blood pools on the mat. You'll be introduced to THAT me in very short order.

Randy's expression turned cold, his intense gaze staring right into the camera.

Randy Orton: My name, as you already know, is Randy Orton. What you may not know however, is that I have a bit of an... impulse control problem. When people get in the ring with me, it's not always a one hundred percent guarantee that they're going to get out on their own two feet. You see, I have this weird quirk that when I've beaten a man unconscious, and left him bruised, bloody, and battered in the middle of the ring, I have a REALLY hard time figuring out when to stop. I'll give you a hint. Typically, it's around the time when multiple referees are pulling me away and they've rolled out the stretcher for my opponent. Sometimes, not even then. A part of me pities you, really. You haven't the slightest clue what you're getting yourself into, Solomon. I've done things in my career in the EBWF that would make you cringe, for all your claims of being "twisted". You don't know what twisted is. You don't know what sadistic is. You have no idea. None. Unfortunately for you, you're about to find out. I have toppled kingdoms between these ropes. I have ended careers, I have filled hospital beds with the broken bodies of men who looked like you, talked like you, and walked like you. And they all made the gruesome mistake of chalking me up to just some guy who married into his success. I have built my legacy on the bones of goons just like you. So feel free to show up to Warfare, expecting to mix it up with an old, out of touch family man who has no idea what's going on around him. When the bell rings, and I start to lose all sense of impulse control, you'll know what this family man is capable of.

Randy walked out of the camera view as Drew cut the camera. Randy gave Drew a short nod before walking out of the room and heading down to the gym. Tonight was going to be a banner night for Randy Orton. Back in the mix with the King of the Ring tournament that had become synonymous with his name over the years. Randy knew there was a chance, even a high likelihood, that he wouldn't get past the second round if they wanted to keep the final four fresh. He knew he might be packing up his stuff and heading home after Warfare. It didn't matter to him. What mattered was going out there and tearing the house down. Making this business look exceptionally easy. That's what he would set out to do, and no one could do it better than Randy Orton.