Underdog

[Cory]

The camera opens up on Randy backstage at Warfare. A dimly lit corner of the backstage area, stacked with audio equipment crates and wooden pallets. He was leaned against a stack of pallets. His eyebrow raised as the little red light came on.

Randy Orton: You feel that, Kyle? That little chill running up your spine? That knot in your gut telling you something isn’t right? That’s instinct. That’s your weirdly shaped, posture-challenged body trying to warn you before the storm hits. That’s survival trying to kick in... because it knows what’s coming.

Randy folded his arms, a small smirk tugging at his lips that faded as quickly as it came.

Randy Orton: Second round of the King of the Ring tournament. You made it past the first round, and the people--well, they started buzzing, didn’t they? “Kyle’s scrappy!” “Kyle’s dangerous!” “Kyle might surprise some people!” I heard it all after you left ole Damian Priest looking up at the lights. I always hear it all. You’re the talk of the tournament, the indie darling with the MMA edge. The guy who kicks hard, fights harder, and wears that underdog badge like it means something in a ring like this. But here’s the thing about underdogs, Kyle.

His eyes narrowed intensely.

Randy Orton: They’re called underdogs because they can sometimes surprise a superior athlete who’s not paying attention. The problem for you is that I’m never not paying attention. I only look like I don’t care. I hang out backstage. I enjoy my fair share of catering. Edge and I crack jokes, we make people look stupid. But then the bell rings. And in there? You aren’t the dangerous one. I am.

Randy pushed off the stack of wood pallets, looking down at his wrists to finish wrapping them with tape. His eyes looked up at the camera lens as he did.

Randy Orton: I’ve seen a thousand Kyles walk into the EBWF thinking grit and heart would save them. Thinking a flurry of kicks or a chokehold would be enough. You think you’ve studied your opponent, watched the tapes, planned the counters. You’ve got your strategy laid out, your submissions locked in like steel, and your power moves timed to the second. But none of that matters when the man across from you is Randy Orton. Because when I’m in the ring, it can be over just like that.

He snapped his fingers with a sharp, satisfying snap.

Randy Orton: One RKO. Done. Match over. Three count and suddenly “dangerous” Kyle O’Reilly is looking for his next opportunity at relevance. You can’t out-strategize a viper. Once I strike, it’s only a matter of time.

Randy smirked confidently.

Randy Orton: But let’s talk about you. Kyle O’Reilly. Strong style enthusiast, mat skills that would make Bret Hart rate at least a 5/10. You took out Damian Priest. I took out an alcoholic that’s about 9 years past his sell by date. I’ll give you that one. Yours was a higher degree of difficulty. And make no mistake about it. I respect your fight. Mat technician the likes of which we rarely see at your level. You’ve got confidence. You’ve got fire. And you’ve got no fear.

Randy paused for a second, his icy blue eyes staring intensely at the camera.

Randy Orton: And that, Kyle, is your problem. You don’t fear me. And that’s going to be your downfall. Because fear keeps men alive. Fear keeps you sharp. But when you walk into that ring thinking you can hang with me, thinking you can trade shots with a man who’s carved his name in the bones of countless guys just like you? That’s when you’ll make one small mistake. One. And that’s all it takes. You see, Kyle, this isn’t just about skill. It’s not about technique. This is psychological. This is mental warfare. You can train for months, build your cardio, sharpen your strikes, review my matches frame by frame. But you can’t prepare for the moment you look up from the mat... and see me coiled in that corner. Breathing slow. Eyes locked in. Fists pounding the mat. Waiting. Because once I smell blood? That’s it. Game over. I will drop you before you can blink, and you can keep on being the underdog.

Randy began to pace slowly, rubbing his hands together. He was looking forward to this.

Randy Orton: You say I’m coasting off reputation. Great job, kid. Now I’ve heard that line 1,001 times. Mostly by guys who were never seen again. Because this is the King of the Ring tournament. And I’ve got two wins to my name, and I’m gunning hard for number three. And if I have to put you into the ground to do it? I’ll do it with a smile on my face. That title, that crown--that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You and everyone else chasing it like it’s your ticket. You think it’s your launching pad. You think if you win this thing, it makes you royalty. It makes you matter. But me? I am already royalty.

He threw up his index and middle fingers.

Randy Orton: Two-time back-to-back winner. Two-time King. That isn’t just rep, kid. That’s legacy. That’s experience. It makes me the perfect choice to move on in the tournament and secure my shot at a fourth World Championship. So bring that bravado. Bring the speed, the technical acumen, the strong style kicks, the impressive holds. Bring everything you’ve got. When you stand across from me, you’ll finally get it. None of that impressive stuff matters. I promise you, when you say goodbye to the 2025 King of the Ring tournament, it will come from my hands. And you’ll never see it coming.

Randy cracked his neck and walked off, leaving the scene to flash the EBWF logo in the corner before fading to black.