Just a guy
Posted: Mon Jun 02, 2025 10:06 pm
The camera panned into a dimly lit locker room. Randy Orton sat alone on a bench, his head down, a sly smirk slowly spreading across his lips. He looked up at the camera with cold, piercing blue eyes.
Randy Orton: King of the Ring… a tournament that separates the weak from the strong. The pretenders from the predators. And in the first round, I’m facing James Storm. Basically the picture you’d get if you asked ChatGPT to draw a member of Duck Dynasty.
Orton chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
Randy Orton: I know a little something about the King of the Ring, James. I’ve won it back to back years. Around that time you were, well... I’m not sure. I didn’t bother reading your Wikipedia page. You walk around here like a living trope with your cowboy hat, your beer bottles, and that southern drawl like you’re somebody. Like you belong. But I see right through you. You’re not a king. You’re not a legend. You’re just a guy. That’s all you’ve ever been. A guy.
He stood up slowly and walked toward the camera, his jaw flexing.
Randy Orton: James, I don’t care how many belts you’ve held in bingo halls and college campuses. I don’t care how many beer bottles you’ve smashed over people’s heads. Because at some point, the bell is gonna ring. And you have to face a man who has never been about gimmicks, or catchphrases. You’ll be standing across the ring from a man that ends careers. A man that ends up being the final destination for guys like you, who just can’t hack it in the bigs.
Randy leaned in, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Randy Orton: You’re not walking out of this match. You’re going to be carted back to the pastures you came from, broken and irrelevant. Because James… you’re not just facing Randy Orton. You’re facing a Viper. A Silent Assassin. You’re facing a future three-time king.
He stepped back, lowering his voice to a low, gravelly tone.
Randy Orton: And when I put you down for good, you won’t even see it coming.
Orton glares into the camera one last time as the screen fades to black with the EBWF logo flashing across the bottom.
Randy Orton: King of the Ring… a tournament that separates the weak from the strong. The pretenders from the predators. And in the first round, I’m facing James Storm. Basically the picture you’d get if you asked ChatGPT to draw a member of Duck Dynasty.
Orton chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
Randy Orton: I know a little something about the King of the Ring, James. I’ve won it back to back years. Around that time you were, well... I’m not sure. I didn’t bother reading your Wikipedia page. You walk around here like a living trope with your cowboy hat, your beer bottles, and that southern drawl like you’re somebody. Like you belong. But I see right through you. You’re not a king. You’re not a legend. You’re just a guy. That’s all you’ve ever been. A guy.
He stood up slowly and walked toward the camera, his jaw flexing.
Randy Orton: James, I don’t care how many belts you’ve held in bingo halls and college campuses. I don’t care how many beer bottles you’ve smashed over people’s heads. Because at some point, the bell is gonna ring. And you have to face a man who has never been about gimmicks, or catchphrases. You’ll be standing across the ring from a man that ends careers. A man that ends up being the final destination for guys like you, who just can’t hack it in the bigs.
Randy leaned in, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Randy Orton: You’re not walking out of this match. You’re going to be carted back to the pastures you came from, broken and irrelevant. Because James… you’re not just facing Randy Orton. You’re facing a Viper. A Silent Assassin. You’re facing a future three-time king.
He stepped back, lowering his voice to a low, gravelly tone.
Randy Orton: And when I put you down for good, you won’t even see it coming.
Orton glares into the camera one last time as the screen fades to black with the EBWF logo flashing across the bottom.