Somewhere in between entertaining the canvas of the ring the color of a summer's sunset and being dispensed of life into a heap upon the floor of his home he had trained a Legacy, attempted to resuscitate a marriage held together with lust and fear, accumulated hospital bracelets and discovered his heart.

He fought hard in the ring, disposed of his dreams that now belonged to someone else, and stashed his bloody clothes in the dumpsters behind arenas or hotels - where ever his love see fit to strike.

Eleven years gone by, when the arena was full and annoyance ran rampant. He had been chased for his Heavyweight Title. Months, and for the weeks leading up to that unfaithful day of deliverance, he was chased for himself - something that had not happened in many years. He caved in after another destruction onset from his Leviathan husband, alone and separated from his Legacy on the divided roster. The arena dark and empty when he burned down his marriage, and rescued his legacy by pressing his lips to the deeply pining, annoying commentator. He fell in love.

It was a death sentence he gladly accepted. With the finding that his two lovers had been struck, he had already made up his mind to leave the moment the admission fell to his ears like the leafs on the spring ground. Somewhere between hiding the two in a separate hotel on the road, and escaping to it himself to meet in secrecy with his pining announcer - the first man to make him feel special since his beloved Rhodes & DiBiase, they rolled in warm blankets, and hid in closets, bathrooms and under beds.

They were found. The Legend Killer facing his own demise for straying from his keeper. He would awake weeks later in crisp hospital blankets. His nostrils filled with the sterile scent, and the citrus smell of cheap orange juice like air freshener. In bandages and bruises, he was still a sight for the announcer's glassless-reading deficient, loving eyes.

The entirety of Legacy packed their bags in to the black hummer beneath the Tampa sun, a long awaited escape granted from the divorce court. The two kept quite in their back seat placements, the cool breeze from the conditioner dancing over their skins while their Viper brushed warm tears from sharp cheekbones just outside the doors. What those two would do to his ex's grave would not pass for flowers. Inside, the three embarked on their journey of emancipation to Texas.

A storybook wedding, and five little carpet-vipers later, everything had been perfect. Skull tattooed skin solitarily bruised and opened in the ring, eyes blackened by fists or turnbuckles, and bones only shattered from caged matches. Between pay-per-views, and retiring, he wrestled three future stars on the living room rug, and his only girl a future commentator with unrequited love for the aged Cody Rhodes.

The snow was prepared to fall on their second upstate New York home, painting the green and leaf foliage over in the colors of December like his scleras encasing pin-sized frozen pupils when he received the early morning call… Twenty years later, Dave Batista was murdered at the hands of The Viper's quiet, secluded, strange son.

Somewhere in between the drives to the prison, where they sat across from each other during visitations, a bond was finally formed between the mirror-similar pair. Although perfectly identical, "Mother" had no idea who Son was, silent to everyone, and preferring it that way. The murder was silent, and admittedly vengeful of the young Orton for the past violence he had found out about. Release was simple in terms of knowing the right people, coming only at the price of joining the business he did not want to. A perfect twin copy to replace the retired Legend Killer, with a guilty killer who had been free with the finding of contaminated evidence.

Somewhere in between "Storybook Cinderella life" and "Living a psychological horror film" Randy Orton walked through his lover's necropolis at dawn and cried for solace 'till dusk, and found the ability to get up and stitch together everybody's lives for the second coming of cataclysm.

In a world so worthless, DiBiase stands by a window, watching out with petrified, tear filled eyes that permanently roll down his cheeks like the hard liquor that flows out of the many bottles that leave him blacked out each day. The nauseating reek of "alcoholic" had taken over the elegant fragrance of expensive and luxurious cologne. Somewhere in between Cody Rhodes taking his own life and trying to drink away his pain, his only remaining sacrament residing in the serpentine human had saved him from a gun to his head in response to the suicide of his one true love.

The Viper collected the lives of his family and established his nest within the hollow Massachusetts mansion of DiBiase. The homes where he had raised his children belonged to someone else now. The vast beach side estate large enough for the two that had been left behind to mourn to each twilight of day and night until their lonesome wounds subsided into amorous memories.

Somewhere between recovery and normality, the world had allowed him to keep the loving, adoring, annoying and slightly obsessed husband he found in Michael Cole and the lover he had always been with in Ted DiBiase, however, the world had also decided that his once small children would grow and he would have to sweep his empty nest clean.

Not far from his last child leaving their mansion home did he find himself feeling as vacant as the five once occupied bedrooms, useless again, with the returned desire he grew up with, and was denied for the years of his first marriage… being a parent was the only dream he had for himself.

Aged sophisticatedly into his fifties, with a vigor well beneath his passed mentor Flair, it was unlikely that another child was in his future. Annoyance was a talent passed onto him by his beloved, and one that he had finally been grateful for when he had the ability to use it himself to its highest degree. He pined endlessly for the joys of having had to learn through trial, and many errors, to bake cookies and pick embarrassing outfits; maybe another girl for tea parties and princesses or a boy named for his lost Rhodes that felt the instinct to wrestle as his three now-champions had.

Somewhere between shopping for the latest in baby fashion, and attempting once more to make love to DiBiase and Cole with his belly rounded again with a way for him to be happy again. He got sick.

Today, Ted and Michael awake to the sound of baby Cody's cries mixed with the sound of the waves rushing the beach outside, and what they would have sworn to be Randy's voice happily and excitingly shouting "I got it," before the realization.