The day after American Thanksgiving, a holiday that Adam celebrated because he was practically a native by now, Adam got a call. His mom was sick back home in Toronto. He needed to come home. Randy had asked Adam if he wanted him to go with him. Adam had said no. He’d just go get her back on her feet and join Randy at Warfare.
4 days later, Judy Copeland was dead.
Randy went to Toronto.
He’d seen enough trauma in his life to know that glazed over look on Adam’s face. It was just complete shellshock. Adam was an only child, but he couldn’t hear over the dull roar in his ears to make any of the decisions that needed to be made. Adam just mumbled his approval as Randy tried to decide whether or not to cremate or bury his friend’s mother. Did they want a wake? She’d need a casket if they were having a wake. Randy was relieved when Nicole arrived with their daughter, Karlee, the next day. She had come to be there for their friend, but she also ended up choosing the floral arrangements and going through Judy’s modest wardrobe to pick something to dress her body for the wake.
Two things were abundantly clear to Nicole. Randy was tired. Adam was irreparably devastated.
Adam decided he would deal with his mother’s home and belongings in his own time, and after a well attended funeral, bidding farewell to his aunts and uncles, and tying up a few loose ends on behalf of the estate, Adam and the Orton Family left Toronto. Randy and Nicole went home for a few days. Adam joined EBWF on their holiday tour.
Once Randy and Nicole were back on tour and early December turned to mid, it became apparent that Adam wasn’t handling his grief well. He showed up from city to city. He went through the motions in his matches when he was booked in front of those house show crowds. Otherwise, he stayed in his locker room and in his hotel room, only communicating with Randy, and he would only speak to the top brass to agree to whatever finish they wanted. Randy didn’t think he’d ever heard Adam speak so few words. They still traveled together, but Adam communicated in a series of shrugs and one word answers. Now, just a little over a month had passed and Randy was getting worried.
On Sunday, December 30th, Randy woke up in Omaha, Nebraska. He checked his phone for the time. He’d woken up later than usual, but they still had plenty of time before checkout. Randy looked across the narrow aisle to the other queen sized bed. Adam looked to still be asleep. Randy threw back the sheets, and got out of bed. He tightened the drawstring on his black and grey flannel pajama pants and padded over to his bag. He found today’s standard order black v-neck tee, jeans and, because it was cold, a fleece pull over. Clean clothes and toiletry kit in hand, he went over to Adam’s bed and reached out to jostle Adam’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him.
Hmmm?
It was a guttural sound rather than an acknowledgement of wakefulness or listening. Randy knew that was all he was going to get.
Randy Orton: We have to be on the road in two hours. I’m going to get in the shower.
Edge: Hurrumph…
That was more of a mumble than an answer, but Randy would take what he could get. Randy trimmed his stubble, took a shower and still didn’t hear Adam as he got out and got dressed. When he left the bathroom, he found Adam still in bed, and he tossed his stuff back in his bag before he slipped on his shoes and left the room. He’d had it. He knew everyone grieved in their own way. He’d heard you never quite get over the loss of a parent. But Adam wasn’t even trying, and Randy didn’t think that was acceptable. He pulled an email up on his phone, and after a few minutes walking up a couple flights of stairs, he found himself at the door to room 409. He knocked.
He heard someone move something. Then nothing as they cleared the room. Then the unmistakable sound of someone leaning against the door as they looked out the peephole. There was a beat, and then the two distinct room locks were moving. Finally, she opened the door.
Randy Orton: Has he returned your calls?
She shook her head, sadly.
Trish Stratus: No. Text messages either.
She looked dressed to travel in a cozy black sweater and ankle length yoga pants. Randy sighed.
Randy Orton: I know we’ve both seen him in some pretty low spots, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. Would you talk to him? If I brought you to him?
She seemed to think about this for a moment.
Trish Stratus: You do realize that he might not want to talk to me, and this might really backfire on you. He might get really mad.
Randy Orton: I know. But I need to tag somebody else in. I’m not getting through to him, and I don’t think he has the energy to be pissed off. If he is, I’d rather have mad than whatever he’s doing.
She looked skeptical for a moment and then managed an answer.
Trish Stratus: Let me brush my hair.
Randy thought her hair looked fine, but he knew better than to argue with a woman who felt like she needed to look more presentable. Randy stood in the open doorway, and waited as she stood at the vanity and brushed out her hair. Then she grabbed her phone, her room key, and put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door to keep house keeping from entering, before she followed Randy into the hallway.
They went down two flights of stairs to the second floor, and then proceeded down the hallway a bit. Finally, Randy was pulling out his key card and pushing open the door, only for it to become stuck on the swinging bar lock inside.
Randy Orton: Mother fu--
Randy finished the rest under his breath, but now he was just aggravated.
Randy Orton: Adam, open the door.
Trish started to talk. She’d been about to suggest that maybe Adam was in the shower, but Randy put his finger to his lips in a “Shhhh” gesture. Randy listened for noise inside the room.
Randy Orton: Adam, I need my stuff. Com’on.
Silence greeted them. Randy could see through the crack in the door that the bathroom door was open and the light was off. Trish saw Randy’s jaw flex, and in that second she realized that he was worried about what they were going to find on the other side of that door.
Randy Orton: A count of ten and I’m kicking it in!
For the first three seconds Trish was sure that Adam was going to call Randy’s bluff, but she knew Randy wasn’t bluffing at all. By five seconds they heard an agitated groan inside the room.
Adam Copeland: A ten count, what am I yo-...
The door abruptly closed, and they heard him unlocking the lock. He pulled it open.
Adam Copeland: -ur daughter?
His eyes fell on Trish, and Randy saw a brief flash of annoyance there, but then they softened. Adam was freshly showered and dressed, but his beard was overgrown, and he needed a haircut. He stepped aside, holding the door and both Trish and Randy walked in. Adam let the door swing shut and returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Trish sat down directly in front of him on Randy’s unmade bed.
Trish Stratus: Hi.
Adam Copeland: Hi.
Trish Stratus: You haven’t returned my messages. I would have missed the funeral if I hadn’t heard back from Randy and Nicole.
Adam Copeland: I didn’t want you to feel like you had to come.
Trish Stratus: I figured that was why. I was so persistent because I wanted to be there.
Randy pocketed his wallet and zipped up his bag. He felt like this was probably a good place to leave. He didn’t have to say anything as he left. Adam knew he wouldn’t leave without him. The problem with Randy giving Adam and Trish the opportunity to talk privately was that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. It wasn’t like he could just go down and sit in the lobby of a hotel in the city he’d wrestled in the night before. Waiting in the car probably wouldn’t have been much better. Instead, he went back to the stairwell and sat on the steps, dialing his wife.
It was 15 minutes after the phone conversation had ended, and 45 since he’d left the room before his phone buzzed in his hand revealing a text from Adam that said if he was ready to go, he’d meet him at the car in five minutes. Randy made his way to the parking lot. Adam was right on time when he pulled the passenger side door open. Trish got into her own rental. Adam sat down.
Adam Copeland: I uh, I invited Trish to ride with us.
Randy Orton: Okay.
Adam Copeland: We need to follow her to the rental place to drop off her car.
Randy Orton: Okay.
But Randy allowed one corner of his mouth to raise in a bit of a smirk. It was the first definitive decision and instruction Adam had laid out in weeks. They were already a few blocks down the road when Adam spoke again.
Adam Copeland: Thanks for… getting her.
That seemed like a weird thing to say, which was why he had hesitated.
Randy Orton: I didn’t get her. She showed up on her own.
Adam Copeland: She told me you went up to her room and got her.
Randy Orton: Okay.
Randy left it at that, but he knew that Adam wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. Trish was in the same boat they were. Waiting for something to do on TV and with enough years in the company that if she didn’t want to be on these long slogs and inconvenient holiday tours she didn’t have to be. The only reason she was there was for Adam, to keep an eye on him. Randy had only helped her the rest of the way down the hall. When they arrived at the car rental, Adam helped Trish transfer her bags, and then she ran inside to turn in the keys. When she returned, she hopped in the back and the three of them made their way to Interstate 29.
Nicole had joined Randy in Kansas City on Sunday night. Monday was of course Warfare, but it was also Randy and Nicole’s 7th wedding anniversary. Randy would work the main event, and even though they’d probably be in the sky on their way home as their anniversary came to a close, and the clock struck midnight on a new year, at least they’d be together. Nicole told Randy that she didn’t mind if Adam shared their suite, but Adam insisted on getting his own room. He knew he’d taken a lot of Randy’s time over the last month, and he thought Nicole at least deserved room service and uninterrupted conversation.
Randy didn’t see Trish or Adam again after they went to their separate rooms. The plan was that Adam and Randy would meet at the Sprint Center in time for the production meeting and whatever else was needed of them. Randy always got there before Adam, so he didn’t think anything of it when he got to their locker room and found it empty except for a selection of RKO, Edge and Rated RKO t-shirts for them to choose from. Randy unpacked a few things from his gear bag, and set his boots out. Then, knowing it was only a matter of time before some producer came and asked for a promo, Randy pulled off the shirt he was wearing, chose his size in the Rated RKO t-shirt and pulled it on. It was still covering his face when he heard the locker room door open.
Adam Copeland: You didn’t tell me it was the main event!
It was almost comical, the way Randy’s head popped out of opening of the shirt and his brow furrowed in Adam’s direction. Adam threw his bags down. They rarely greeted one another. Their friendship was just one long, ongoing conversation.
Randy Orton: You tweeted about it last week.
Adam Copeland: You told me we had a match. You didn’t tell me it was the main event.
Randy Orton: Does it matter?
Adam Copeland: Us versus them? Four weeks before the Rumble, on the last show of the year, after they beat down Wes and Havoc tweaked his knee?
Randy Orton: And Miz became the new world champion. Don’t forget that.
Adam Copeland: Yeah, whatever. Somehow that seems secondary to the plot here. Are they getting ready to do something with us?
As Randy had predicted, this match had helped. He hadn’t asked for the main event, that was just an added bonus. This was the most Adam had said since they’d left Canada.
Randy Orton: They’re about to have a main event with us. The way they’ve been booking End and Dante, there’s probably no way we win. We’ll do their finish, and wait to find out what’s next. Like we always do.
Adam Copeland: Is this a revenge for Wes situation?
Randy Orton: Last time we were on Warfare we said he was doing a bad job. I doubt it. I mean it was quippy as a tweet, but it sucks as an angle.
Adam Copeland: Where have you been for the last 10 years? Sometimes everything sucks as an angle! I’m telling you, something is rotten in the state of Denmark!
Randy Orton: You don’t even know what that’s from, Adam.
Adam Copeland: I know it means something isn’t right!
Randy Orton: Hamlet.
Adam Copeland: What? Randy, we don’t have time for Lin-Manuel Miranda! I want to know what they’re up too.
Randy Orton: No, that’s Hamilton… Adam… just change your shirt. Lets go to this production meeting, and when we find out what the plan is maybe we’ll have some of those answers.
Randy was pleased that the wheels seemed to be turning in Adam’s head. He was focused on work, and seeing that Randy had already chosen the Rated RKO shirt, he grabbed the second one, leaving their individual self-promoting merchandise behind. Tonight, art would imitate life. They were a team.
The scene faded up from black, and the camera settled on Renee Young, standing backstage at the Sprint Center in front of an EBWF logoed backdrop.
Renee Young: Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome, Randy Orton and Edge, Rated RKO!
The pair stepped into Renee’s shot, and Edge pointed his index finger alarmingly close to the dimple on her right cheek.
Edge: Look at that, Randy. She nearly smiled! She’s almost happy to see us!
Randy Orton: Well take a look around at the other neanderthals that she's forced to interview when we're not around. I'm sure we're a breath of fresh air.
He smirked.
Randy Orton: Well, you are anyway. I think she's probably still over it with me.
Edge: That’s not true is it Renee? Man, don’t you remember a simpler time where you’d blush nearly every time this one showed up? Now you see us, and just roll your eyes and sigh. Men don’t find that attractive, Renee.
Randy Orton: Really is natural guy repellant.
Renee Young: Sometimes you two really like to try and win the title of people who said the most offensive thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
Edge: Really? Us? Do you know who your president is?
Renee Young: I’m Canadian you idiot! I’m from Toronto!
Edge: You are? Since when?
Renee Young: Birth!
She slammed the microphone into Edge’s chest. It caught her saying -
Renee Young: Interview yourselves.
- before she simply walked away.
Edge: I like her. I feel like we’ve got a real connection.
Randy Orton: Oh yeah, definitely. Let's see Michael Cole have that chemistry. Well, now that we've jettisoned the non essentials, we can focus on what really matters. Us.
They turned to the camera in near unison grinning into the lens.
Edge: I’ve been spending the last week trying to figure out if tonight is a belated Christmas gift or or a punishment.
Randy Orton: It’s not important really. After all, depending on who you ask you’d get a different answer as to whether or not we were on the good list or the naughty list.
Edge: Right? I mean, ask Renee and 358 days from now we’d be expecting a big ole lump of coal. Ask Jim Ross…
Randy Orton: Eh…
Randy made a face like maybe he wasn’t so sure.
Edge: Ask Drew, our favorite…
Randy cringed as the camera shook a definitive “no” from side to side.
Edge: Your wife?
Randy Orton: Who?
Edge: Oh, are we not allowed to mention her anymore?
Randy Orton: She hasn’t been on TV in 3 years. It’s a thing.
Edge: There’s no one who thinks we’re good people, is there?
Randy Orton: The only two people that matter do, but I'm pretty sure that makes us narcissists too.
Edge: Well, I mean I already knew that about you, but… me? Drew...is this…
The camera moved up and down. A definitive “yes”.
Edge: Damn. Okay. Alright, while I sort of let this sink in, I’m going to need the monkeys in the truck to go ahead and remind the EBWF Universe what happened the last time you saw us on your TV screens!
Randy subtly nudged Edge with his elbow and leaned in. He spoke quietly but loud enough for the camera to pick up.
Randy Orton: You see, the "monkey" thing... that's kind of what they're talking about.
Edge: It worked for Jericho!
Randy shook his head, exasperated.
Randy Orton: I wouldn’t know. I don’t follow his career.
Randy waved his hand toward the camera.
Randy Orton: Just…. Just roll it.
A fade out proceeded the new footage. A Fanniversary logo appeared in the bottom right corner of the screen. Angelina Love was seen backstage with Wes Ikeda. The two seemed to be in deep discussion, but they were interrupted by someone dramatically clearing their throat. The camera panned and Randy Orton and Edge moved into the frame.
Wes Ikeda: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa... if you two are just here to criticize the show, move along.
Edge: Hah! You hear this Randy? Boss man is telling us to move along.
Randy Orton: I hear it. But before we do, the two of us...
Randy pointed between himself and Edge.
Randy Orton: ...are here to talk to him.
He pointed his finger at Wes, hovering it very close to his chest.
Edge: Angie, babe, we'd talk to you too, but seeing as you're in charge of all the lady wrestling, you can't do anything for us except stand there and look pretty.
Wes Ikeda: What the hell, Adam?
Angelina rolled her eyes, and threw venom in Edge's direction.
Angelina Love: Pig!
Randy Orton: Now, now Edge, you can't say things like that in 2018. What we can say though, is that things are rather interesting around here. This is Fanniversary. It's as big as Wrestlemania. 17 years of EBWF, and you couldn't even book any bonifide stars on this show.
Edge: Where are the superstars who have been in this company for over a decade, huh?
Wes Ikeda: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Randy Orton: What it means is that we think, you two...
Randy pointed between Wes and Angelina.
Randy Orton: ...are letting the inmates run this prison. Is that true, Wes?
Wes took one step toward Randy and stared him down without a word. Edge leaned over in Randy's ear with a dramatic stage whisper.
Edge: He can't even deny it.
Randy Orton: Nope, he sure can't. Warden, you better grab the reins and get things in order around here... because if you don't, we're going to have to assume that the rules are that there are no rules. And it sure would be a shame if superstars started dropping like flies left and right, and we were forced to take every opportunity we saw.
Edge: Because it looks like there's no one in charge around here, Wes. And if that's true, we're going to have no choice but to volunteer.
Randy smirked, and gave Edge a pat on the back, seeing they'd sufficiently riled Wes up they turned to leave. Wes flexed his jaw, and Angelina stepped in front of him, and began to speak about what they could do. The shot faded to present day Rated RKO seemingly unaware they were on camera again.
Edge: I’m just saying, if I can’t mention Nicole that’s like a third of my talking points.
Randy Orton: I don't know man, maybe we can find Renee and make fun of her to fill the rest of this segment. I don't even know who we're fighting!
Edge: What?! You don’t?
There was an audible clearing of the throat, but when that failed to get their attention a weary voice came from behind the camera.
Drew the Cameraman: Uh…. guys? Guys!
Rated RKO snapped their heads toward the sound of Drew’s voice, and tried to proceed as if there was no confusion at all.
Edge: See! The main event on New Year’s Eve! That should be a celebration! But after an interaction like that, you can see why we’re thinking it might be a punishment. Since I’m interviewing you, Randy, let me pose a question.
Randy Orton: You are not interviewing me.
Edge: Okay, but can I ask you a question?
Randy Orton: No. Then you’d be interviewing me.
Edge: I just feel like this a question in which you have experience. Is Wes Ikeda petty enough to wait two whole months before responding to what we just saw?
Randy Orton: I think he's petty enough to not respond to it at all. Which is, of course, kind of the reason why we want to take matters into our own hands.
Edge: Right? We’re on the same page for once! I’m with you, but then on the other hand, last Monday night at Christmas Eve of Destruction - Legion came out and… Legion. Legion… wait is that… am I just now realizing that’s from something?
Randy Orton: I think it's a TV show. Also I'm sure an emo rock band has used it at some point.
Drew the Cameraman: Also an expansion for World of Warcraft.
Randy and Edge turned back toward Drew’s voice and blinked.
Edge: World of War-- don’t talk to us. You aren’t allowed to talk to us.
Edge looked back to Randy.
Edge: Where was I? Oh right, So Legion was trying to help Havoc retain the title. Wes wasn’t having it, so he came out there to put a stop it. They dismantled him! Which gave what’s his name an opportunity to eek out the win, but now we have this added variable. Are we being punished for reminding Angelina and Wes that they’re not very good at this, or are we being summoned because you and Wes are… are…
Randy put his hand up, cutting him off.
Randy Orton: I don't know what you're talking about. That's not what this is.. This isn't punishment, either. I'm pretty sure we're being put here because we're right and those two fools don't know what they're doing. Rated RKO in the main event of Warfare against the Sumerian Death Squad is an admission that they need us more than we need them.
Edge: They haven’t held the Tag Championships for 513 days already have they? That should be just about the only reason they’d be bothering us.
Randy Orton: Nah, they haven't even had it a year. Which is like, really unimpressive nowadays. That can't be it. It's probably the same answer it always is. Rated RKO is the "break glass in case of emergency" whenever some group of self-righteous hipsters get the idea that they want to destroy EBWF or something equally stupid.
Edge: We’re… we’re the Chris Jericho of tag team wrestling!? That’s kinda great right? I mean… right?!
Randy Orton: Nah, man. We’re the DX.
They both made cringe faces, but suddenly Edge grinned.
Edge: But it’s okay when we do it, because it’s a choice.
Randy Orton: Yeah. I'm pretty sure DX did it because they needed money.
Edge: Joanie did have a whole lot of shoes. Wait… doesn’t your wife have a… whole lot of shoes?
Randy Orton: Who?
Edge: God damnit! I don’t know what’s real anymore. Do the women still get their matches cut from the show at the last minute?
Randy Orton: They used to, but now that Angelina is in charge, it's probably still happening.
Edge: Is “Brauned” still a verb for when someone gets Braun Strowman’s hands?
Randy Orton: Uh, Probably? Seems like something that would die off pretty quick.
Edge: But that the commentary team would continue to say long after it was relevant. Got it. Is the Miz still trying too hard to be funny?
Randy Orton: I don’t know. I don’t follow his career.
Edge glared at Randy as if telling him to be serious. Randy shrugged.
Randy Orton: I dunno what you want me to tell ya.
Edge: Tell me this, Randy. Is Legion just a carbon copy of a copy of a copy of every other pseudo-anarchist group that has ever wandered these hallowed halls?
Randy Orton: My thoughts exactly. Edge, you and I have been around long enough to see the revolving door of pretentious sorta-goth factions that all think the same way, but somehow believe they're unique. There was the Shield for a while, there was Elite, there was, um...
Randy snapped his fingers a few times trying to recall the name, but drew a blank.
Randy Orton: I don't know. That dark, brooding stable full of assholes like Brian Kendrick.
Edge: Not ‘The Family’, but the other one?
Randy Orton: Yeah, begins with an "M" I think. It was like the second or third group that we were put back on TV to beat up until they went away.
Edge: Burning Ashes… no. Uh, Moon and… no. Night Time Vand- no. Moonlight Dollz!
Randy Orton: Um, no. That was a different kinda party.
Edge: Oh… MIDNIGHT GANG!
Randy's eyes lit up. He snapped his finger and pointed at Edge.
Randy Orton: There you go. The point is this is not new territory for us. This isn't Rated RKO trying to defend their title record, or... Legion was it? This isn't Legion calling us out and trying to beat the biggest dog in the yard. This is just what you do when you need someone to clean up the mess that happens when Wes Ikeda is running things.
Edge laughed.
Edge: I feel like the really unfortunate thing in all this is that we… kind of agree with Legion. I mean we all agree that Wes is garbage, right?
Randy Orton: Oh yeah, definitely garbage.
Edge: That’s a shame. Because they’re not really wrong about that. I could kind of forgive them all of their arrogance and bravado on that point alone except that… they think the EBWF has never seen anything like Legion before. Dean Ambrose literally tied an Ikeda up on a cross and set the arena on fire, but a few guys filming promos in a dark alley is unprecedented.
Randy Orton: Didn't Zahra Schreiber murder a chick or something? Shouldn't they just rename themselves Edgelords and be done with it?
Edge: What… are you… that was Edgehead thank you very much. And now….just saying that out loud…. A little provocative for a family show.
Randy Orton: No, it's... nevermind.
Edge: Well, wait a minute. To your point about Zahra murdering the lady. Brian Kendrick had even already done that! Before Havoc, even! This isn’t new! Oh… oh wait, is this… is this a big deal because it’s the year of chick stuff, or whatever?
Randy Orton: Wait, now that you mention it, I'm pretty sure Tiffany murdered someone already too. Are we really talking about murder like it's some kind of bit?
Edge: I mean, nobody went to jail, so it was like… sanctioned murder, right?
Randy Orton: Hmmm, maybe that's a Canada law or something.
Randy shrugged.
Randy Orton: I think we're getting off topic here.
Edge: Were we ever on topic? Listen… just…. Listen. Legion, or deathsquad or… whatever. You’ve been operating under the assumption that you’re different. That you’re special. And I think if anything this conversation has proven that you’re just the next reincarnation of the angsty wrestler who didn’t get enough hugs as a child, or think the world owes them something or whatever. We don’t understand why you exist other than to be a constant reminder of groups that did everything first and better. Maybe you exist because Zahra and Jimmy are insecure, so they need a little insurance. We honestly don’t care where you came from or which no name tag teams you beat while you were there.
Randy Orton: The bottom line is this. We don't necessarily disagree with the fact that you think Wes Ikeda is a lousy excuse for an authority figure. Hell, in another universe, we'd probably fill out an application for membership. The problem you guys run into is the fact that Rated RKO exists as a check against teams that taste success and start to get a little too high of an opinion of themselves. We've been doing this for over 9 years, kids. We've gotten really good at it. And while we generally agree with your message, it's just too much fun to put chumps like you out of your misery.
Edge: So you can hurl your insults, and think you’re putting us down for being Rated RKO. You can even complain that we’re the old guard of EBWF. You can bluster about how the EBWF is washed anew. It’s completely different. It’s passed us by! You can make your jokes about us being who we’ve always been and not even see the irony, if you want. This is new to you, sure. But we’re still us, and you’re just the new faces of a very, very recycled trope. Maybe if you’re lucky, and we mean really lucky, two or three years from now when the new dark and brooding group is trying to set the world on fire and has to cross paths with Rated RKO, maybe we’ll compare them to you.
Edge contemplated that for a moment.
Edge: Or maybe we won’t be able to remember what you called yourselves.
He looked to Randy.
Edge: Midnight Gang? Really?
Randy shook his head with a chuckle, giving Edge’s shoulder a pat as they walked out of the frame, leaving Drew’s camera to continue rolling on the EBWF logo before it faded to black.
