APEX PREDATOR
**3 posts in one day. Who IS this girl???**
Author: Rkowhore79
Title: Apex Predator
Pairing: Centon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,110
Summary: Randy’s finally lost it this time. The, what was formally known as IED, has taken over and he has gone crazy within his already crazy mind.
Disclaimer: Randy is my bitch. He does what I tell him, when I tell him. Other than that, I don’t own either him or John.
Feedback: Yes please
*Author’s Note: I know I haven’t really posted any full fics lately, but I have been writing a lot of “starts” to fics here and there. This would be one such example, so it may or may not get continued, I really couldn’t tell you. I just write what/when the voices tell me to…..
APEX PREDATOR
It’s like I’m trapped here; all of my thoughts, my ideas, my vision, my creative genius, if you will, are trapped; stuck in second gear, revving and revving to no avail. My soul is on fire, my mind burns, my gut churns, and the very instincts that have kept me alive and flying under the radar for this long are on high alert tonight. I feel as if someone, or some thing, is watching me, listening to the shallow breaths I am emitting and waiting to pounce the minute I let my guard down.
But that won’t happen tonight; that won’t ever happen, not as long as I keep my wits about me.
“Simmer down, Orton,” I mutter out loud to myself in an effort to steady my rapidly beating heart. I check to make sure my little black bag is safely tucked against my lithe body for about the 100th time that night. Yep, all’s well and good; every last puzzle piece is in place. The plans have been laid and there’s really no stopping me now. I giggle to myself as Shelton’s hype entrance music plays in the back of my mind, but quickly shake the theme from my head; silently chiding myself for letting such trivial things break my concentration. I cannot lose focus tonight. I won’t lose focus tonight.
Thrown over, huh? Cast aside like yesterday’s leftovers for John.Cena?! Again? ‘Vince’s golden boy’, I sneer to myself. John’s champ for about the millionth time while I was forced to take the walk of shame and defeat back up the ramp leading to backstage. I can still hear the roar of the crowd as they cheer on their new champion.
Yeah, well, fuck that. Fuck that with everything I had. Fuck that with Mickie’s over used vagina. I. Am. Sick. Of. This. Shit. Maybe they just don’t understand who I am. Maybe they have forgotten; but that’s okay because I am about to remind them, every last one of the despicable, grimy, dirty ass losers that fill the arena at this very moment; the ones chanting “You can’t see me!”, at the top of their lungs.
“Oh, I see you,” I mutter under my breath. “And you are about to see me up close and personal.”
I am about to teach them a lesson they’ll not soon forget, and I am about to make them pay with their own blood. Fuck with Randy Orton, will ya? I think not.
Then we’ll see just who the new champion is. It won’t be John Cena, I’m telling you that right now. And the crowd won’t be cheering me on as I decimate their hero in front of them, either, oh no; they’ll be screaming the shattered screams of a million tortured souls. And I’ll laugh….ohhhh, how I’ll laugh at their misery, at their misfortune, at their. Dumb. Luck.
Let the games begin.
They call me “The Apex Predator” and with good reason. I am at the pinnacle of my career, I am at the top of my game, and really nobody even comes close to understanding what is going on inside my head at any given time. Not that I can blame them; I don’t even know half of the time, and this can either be a good thing…or a very, very bad thing.
I twist my head around as I hear someone call my name from down the hallway. Divas. They just can’t get enough of ‘ol RKO now can they? I pause in the middle of my journey to my destination; to my destiny, to see what they want; not that it could be of any importance to me whatsoever being as how I am so above their level of humanity (if you can even call what they are, human), but I have to remain in control. I have to appear normal, whatever appearing “normal” even means.
“Yes?” I ask, being careful not to fall out of character.
“Vince is such a dick,” the blonde one babbles, her gum practically falling out of her mouth in her haste to talk to me, like I even want her nasty, bimbo ass talking to me. “He wouldn’t know true talent or a true champion if one came up and bit him in the ass.” She giggles at her lame attempt at a joke and I cringe; I cringe so hard and deep that I fear I have cemented a permanent wrinkle in my forehead. This bitch. She’ll pay, too. She’ll pay long and hard, I can guarantee that.
The brunette smiles at me, a sneaky smile, like she knows a secret about me and she’s not telling. ‘You don’t know shit about me, you dumb cunt,’ I tell her deep within the foggy recesses of my brain. They are starting to get on my last nerve with their giggling and their smiles and their inane chatter. I want to yell at them to shut the fuck up, but I refrain. Instead I just swallow heavily and tune them out until I am sure they are done and I have made the proper comments and responses. They continue on down the hall and I am once again free to go about my business.
I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. Mere minutes have passed but to my increasingly racing heart it feels as though a lifetime has come and gone, that my entire life has flashed me by and I have yet to accomplish what I have set out to do. This brings me back; snaps me out of my reverie, and I am once again calm and focused.
Kill the bitch.
I sneer and pat my black bag. I have all the necessary tools to do the job, too. Let them come after me, let them catch me. I’m too good for them; I’m too good for all of them. The Viper strikes again. I like that. I let the words roll around on my tongue for a bit, tasting them; savoring their very essence.
“The.” Mmmm..sweet and savory.
“Viper.” It tastes wicked; the word has a slight…bite to it.
“Strikes.” I flick my tongue out, the motion quick and purposeful. Salty.
“Again.” Finality.
After tonight, this is going to be the headline on many a newspaper; I can just see it now. The words are just too perfect, so suited to…me.
I hear the beginnings of Cena’s music and immediately my ears perk up. That’s my cue to haul ass and I pick up my pace down the hall and back out to the ring. Hide your children.
The Apex Predator is on the loose.
Author: Rkowhore79
Title: Apex Predator
Pairing: Centon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,110
Summary: Randy’s finally lost it this time. The, what was formally known as IED, has taken over and he has gone crazy within his already crazy mind.
Disclaimer: Randy is my bitch. He does what I tell him, when I tell him. Other than that, I don’t own either him or John.
Feedback: Yes please
*Author’s Note: I know I haven’t really posted any full fics lately, but I have been writing a lot of “starts” to fics here and there. This would be one such example, so it may or may not get continued, I really couldn’t tell you. I just write what/when the voices tell me to…..
APEX PREDATOR
It’s like I’m trapped here; all of my thoughts, my ideas, my vision, my creative genius, if you will, are trapped; stuck in second gear, revving and revving to no avail. My soul is on fire, my mind burns, my gut churns, and the very instincts that have kept me alive and flying under the radar for this long are on high alert tonight. I feel as if someone, or some thing, is watching me, listening to the shallow breaths I am emitting and waiting to pounce the minute I let my guard down.
But that won’t happen tonight; that won’t ever happen, not as long as I keep my wits about me.
“Simmer down, Orton,” I mutter out loud to myself in an effort to steady my rapidly beating heart. I check to make sure my little black bag is safely tucked against my lithe body for about the 100th time that night. Yep, all’s well and good; every last puzzle piece is in place. The plans have been laid and there’s really no stopping me now. I giggle to myself as Shelton’s hype entrance music plays in the back of my mind, but quickly shake the theme from my head; silently chiding myself for letting such trivial things break my concentration. I cannot lose focus tonight. I won’t lose focus tonight.
Thrown over, huh? Cast aside like yesterday’s leftovers for John.Cena?! Again? ‘Vince’s golden boy’, I sneer to myself. John’s champ for about the millionth time while I was forced to take the walk of shame and defeat back up the ramp leading to backstage. I can still hear the roar of the crowd as they cheer on their new champion.
Yeah, well, fuck that. Fuck that with everything I had. Fuck that with Mickie’s over used vagina. I. Am. Sick. Of. This. Shit. Maybe they just don’t understand who I am. Maybe they have forgotten; but that’s okay because I am about to remind them, every last one of the despicable, grimy, dirty ass losers that fill the arena at this very moment; the ones chanting “You can’t see me!”, at the top of their lungs.
“Oh, I see you,” I mutter under my breath. “And you are about to see me up close and personal.”
I am about to teach them a lesson they’ll not soon forget, and I am about to make them pay with their own blood. Fuck with Randy Orton, will ya? I think not.
Then we’ll see just who the new champion is. It won’t be John Cena, I’m telling you that right now. And the crowd won’t be cheering me on as I decimate their hero in front of them, either, oh no; they’ll be screaming the shattered screams of a million tortured souls. And I’ll laugh….ohhhh, how I’ll laugh at their misery, at their misfortune, at their. Dumb. Luck.
Let the games begin.
They call me “The Apex Predator” and with good reason. I am at the pinnacle of my career, I am at the top of my game, and really nobody even comes close to understanding what is going on inside my head at any given time. Not that I can blame them; I don’t even know half of the time, and this can either be a good thing…or a very, very bad thing.
I twist my head around as I hear someone call my name from down the hallway. Divas. They just can’t get enough of ‘ol RKO now can they? I pause in the middle of my journey to my destination; to my destiny, to see what they want; not that it could be of any importance to me whatsoever being as how I am so above their level of humanity (if you can even call what they are, human), but I have to remain in control. I have to appear normal, whatever appearing “normal” even means.
“Yes?” I ask, being careful not to fall out of character.
“Vince is such a dick,” the blonde one babbles, her gum practically falling out of her mouth in her haste to talk to me, like I even want her nasty, bimbo ass talking to me. “He wouldn’t know true talent or a true champion if one came up and bit him in the ass.” She giggles at her lame attempt at a joke and I cringe; I cringe so hard and deep that I fear I have cemented a permanent wrinkle in my forehead. This bitch. She’ll pay, too. She’ll pay long and hard, I can guarantee that.
The brunette smiles at me, a sneaky smile, like she knows a secret about me and she’s not telling. ‘You don’t know shit about me, you dumb cunt,’ I tell her deep within the foggy recesses of my brain. They are starting to get on my last nerve with their giggling and their smiles and their inane chatter. I want to yell at them to shut the fuck up, but I refrain. Instead I just swallow heavily and tune them out until I am sure they are done and I have made the proper comments and responses. They continue on down the hall and I am once again free to go about my business.
I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. Mere minutes have passed but to my increasingly racing heart it feels as though a lifetime has come and gone, that my entire life has flashed me by and I have yet to accomplish what I have set out to do. This brings me back; snaps me out of my reverie, and I am once again calm and focused.
Kill the bitch.
I sneer and pat my black bag. I have all the necessary tools to do the job, too. Let them come after me, let them catch me. I’m too good for them; I’m too good for all of them. The Viper strikes again. I like that. I let the words roll around on my tongue for a bit, tasting them; savoring their very essence.
“The.” Mmmm..sweet and savory.
“Viper.” It tastes wicked; the word has a slight…bite to it.
“Strikes.” I flick my tongue out, the motion quick and purposeful. Salty.
“Again.” Finality.
After tonight, this is going to be the headline on many a newspaper; I can just see it now. The words are just too perfect, so suited to…me.
I hear the beginnings of Cena’s music and immediately my ears perk up. That’s my cue to haul ass and I pick up my pace down the hall and back out to the ring. Hide your children.
The Apex Predator is on the loose.