I kept my head down as I made my way through the arena hallways. I had put on my protective mask before I had even arrived at the arena and had changed into my ring gear already. As I walked on, I noticed that several of the people in my path made it their business to step out of my way. It gave me a sense of satisfaction to see it happen, though I didn't let that show on my face. My facial expressions these days alternated between being expressionless and sneering at pretty much anyone that tried to approach me. My nose getting busted by Rey Mysterio had woken up something up inside of me that I hadn't even known to exist at any part of my life. If anyone would have told me even a year ago that I was the way I was now, I wouldn't have believed them. Not for a single second. I would have said that wasn't in me.
I was sure my own family would have said the same thing. Growing up, I had always been the straight laced good child. Dustin, while not really like the Goldust character he had for so long portrayed, definitely still had the bigger personality. I had always just faded into the background, staying out of trouble so my parents wouldn't have to worry about me and doing alright in school, though I never got good enough grades to draw any really good positive attention to myself that way. I was just kind of there.
That was the way I had been when I first entered the WWE. I had come in with everyone knowing I was Dusty Rhodes' son, which in hindsight did hurt me quite a bit. People think being the son of a wrestling legend is so great and I'm not denying that it don't have it's benefits, but it's a lot harder than most people seem to realize. If you do go into the business as a second and third generation superstar, there is an obscene amount of pressure on you. Not only do you have to live up to the legacy of your father but you have to carve out your own legacy in the process. There are some that do rise up and not only meet the challenge, but for every success story like The Rock and Randy Orton, there are plenty of failures like David Flair, David Hart Smith and Michael McGillicutty, who can't even compare to their fathers for at least one reason or another. I was in danger of falling into that latter category when I first got started. Unlike Dustin, I wasn't given the benefit of slapping some paint on my face and having free reign to act like a freak. I was the fresh faced, bushy tailed rookie that had to endure teaming with Hardcore Holly before good old Teddy came to my rescue.
Oh Ted…despite our differences now, I do have to admit that I owe quite a bit to him. Being his partner allowed me to get out of the goody two shoes role that I had grown unhappy with and allowed me considerably more success. I was getting tired of toeing the line and constantly being compared to my father and brother. I wanted people to look at me and see ME. Not them. Unfortunately, that's really only recently started to happen and I still don't think that's happened for Ted. And really, we only have ourselves to blame-and Randy fucking Orton.
Joining Randy and forming the Legacy should have been a huge stepping stone for us. Stables had been a way for other people to help launch their careers in the past. Help get them noticed and respected. Triple H did it with the original incarnation of DX. Randy's and Batista's careers had benefited immensely from their time in Evolution. Ted and I had went in optimistic, looking to be a destructive force alongside Randy.
That wasn't exactly how it went though. Unlike Triple H and Ric Flair, who had actually helped Randy and Batista in Evolution while helping themselves, Randy was only looking out for himself. He was never interested in me and Ted unless he was looking for a fuck. He had no interest in helping us in our careers. All the tag titles we had won meant nothing to him. All he cared about was either keeping his title or getting it back after losing it. And that really shouldn't have bothered me. It really shouldn't have. I should have gotten used to it and realized that was the way he was. But there was one small problem: I had fallen hopelessly in love with the bastard.
It wasn't something that was supposed to happen. I sure as hell wasn't looking for it. Ted and I had been fucking around with no strings attached and Randy had walked in on us one night and ended up joining in. That was how it all started. It was supposed to just be a harmless little threesome. And then it happened again. And again. Night after night we repeated our pattern until one night, I was sick and Ted and Randy went off without me. After that, things weren't quite the same. They started going off more and more on their own and my stomach would burn in jealousy. At first I thought I was jealous of the fact that they were leaving me out. I didn't want to become the third wheel in the group. But over time, I began to realize what it really was: I was jealous of Ted getting so much alone time with Randy.
Randy Randy Randy…so many things I could say about Randy, most of which I couldn't repeat in front of my own mother. He was a bastard, even if he had mellowed out by his own standards over the past couple of years. He was the same selfish prick he's always been, even if he's playing up to the crowds these days. If it suited him better, he'd quit jumping around like an over hyper cheerleader and go back to being a truly vicious son of a bitch. And if anyone thought he was intense in the ring, they hadn't seen anything if they hadn't been in bed with him. The simple fact of the matter was, he was fucking amazing. His touch, his kiss…everything he did just sent all my senses on fire each and every time. It was raw, undiluted passion-at least to me anyway. But Ted had gained more of his attention first and I found myself resenting him immensely for it. I couldn't let him win. I just couldn't.
I started pursuing Randy relentlessly. Anything I could do to gain his attention I did. And it worked eventually. Randy and I became the ones that were going off alone together and leaving Ted behind. I was elated about it until I realized that things still weren't quite the way I wanted them to be. When we would do the threesomes he seemed more focused on Ted than me. Unless he was really horny I had to come to him instead of him coming to me. And one night when I had overheard him and Randy going at it, I had heard how verbal he was with Ted. "So pretty sucking my cock. You love it don't you? You want me to fuck your ass don't you? Fucking pound it raw, you little bitch." Not exactly what dreams were made of, but it was better than the standard grunts and groans I got. He was putting effort into Ted and it made me question myself. Was it me? Was I not good enough? Was Ted doing something better than I was? I tried to be better, tried to be more appealing but the efforts were all in vain. He eventually grew tired of both of us and dumped us for John fucking Cena. John mother fucking Cena, who can't even admit that he's gay. He and Randy have to sneak around and shit when they can get together because he's that far in the closet.
Ted tried to just get back with me after it all fell apart but I wanted no part of him. I had a lot of anger towards him for what had happened with Randy and I dumped him unceremoniously after a quick fuck. I wanted Randy. I wanted him beyond anything I had ever wanted. I fucking NEEDED him. I tried to tell him that. One night when he wasn't with John I cornered him in his room and tried to talk to him. Make him see reason. Make him see that I cared for him in ways that John never could. And what did he do? He rejected me. He cast me out, telling me I hadn't ever meant anything to him. I was a means to an end. He broke me that night and it hurt so much that I bottled it up and tried to just forget about it all. I threw myself into being "Dashing" Cody Rhodes, I threw myself into an affair with Drew McIntyre, I threw myself into trying to forget…but I couldn't. Nothing I did ever truly filled the void I wanted filled. I hated it. I hated my life. I hated myself and there was nothing I could do about it-until Rey Mysterio broke my nose.
As I sat at home recovering, I discovered that I had been given a catalyst to completely change myself. I had a reason to take the pain that had been inside me for so long and unleash it on the world. And unleash it I did. I let out every ounce of hate I had in me and look what it's gotten me. A Wrestlemania victory over Rey Mysterio. The Intercontinental title. A chance to break through the glass ceiling and make it into the main event. Career wise it's been the best thing I've ever done. Personally, it hasn't exactly made me happier, though it's helped. Sharing my pain with others has been a release. And there's one person in particular I want to feel my pain.
I stopped when I reached the Gorilla position just as Randy walked back through. His lean muscular body was covered in a sheen of sweat and I stopped in my tracks, glaring at him from under my hood. He looked back at me, an unreadable expression crossing his face. What did he feel towards me now? Indifference? Regret? Longing? I didn't know and I found myself not caring. Unleashing my pain on the world helped me get past the love that had broken me to begin with. I now looked at him not with adoration, but with hatred. I wanted him to feel my pain more than anything else in the entire world.
And I would do it. I would have my revenge. And it was going to be the sweetest thing in the entire world.