Bodyslam

Sliced Bread #2

A/N: Rated R-ish

"Was anyone planning to fucking tell me?"

Mitch takes a startled step back. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," the door clunks shut, cutting off anything he might've said in response. "Tell me to fuck off, yell at me, whatever, but this is some bullshit."

"Nine, what the fuck?" Mitch is finally able to speak, now both irate and completely lost.

She stalks further into the arena, tossing her bag onto a chair, her new boots tumbling to the floor. "I get that I'm not really a part of the locker room and all but I kinda like you guys and I give a shit about people's well-being, including Mikey. And I have to find out from social media that he's hurt enough to be in the goddamned hospital?"

Oh.

Well, shit.

There's a grinding scrape as Scott slides the chair back from where he's been seated at the announce table scrolling through his phone when Mitch went to unlock the door for his trainee, and he walks briskly past them, giving the scene a wide berth. His face is neutral but Mitch can totally read the "I'm staying out of this" behind his carefully controlled expression.

A little fucking backup would've been nice.

If looks could kill, as they say, whoever they are, he'd have immediately shuffled off this mortal coil. Nine is glaring at him, hands on hips, daggers very nearly physically shooting out of her eyes.

A door in the direction of the weight room clicks shut in the silence.

What the absolute fuck.

"First of all," Mitch very, very consciously keeps his voice calm. "I'm sorry no one told you. I should have done that. Second of all, if you ever speak to me that way again you're gone. You're allowed to be mad at me, but you don't get to throw tantrums."

She just stares back wordlessly.

"Again, I'm sorry. It was a horrible couple days for everyone. He's going to be okay."

"I know he's gonna be okay," she replies, her voice now just as consciously calm. "I didn't know that until this morning and that's why I'm pissed."

"I take responsibility for not telling you," Mitch isn't entirely sure why this is an issue. Her first up-close look at the potential for serious injury in this business, maybe? Fear of an unknown future? Regardless, if she's upset enough to mouth off to him then he needs to make some decisions. As a matter of safety, anyone without control of their temper isn't allowed in his ring. With an edge to his voice, just enough to get his point across, he asks, "Are we cool, or do you need to skip training today?"

Nine continues to stare at him for a few beats before she lowers her eyes and heaves a deep sigh. "We're cool."

"Good. Get changed, then let's get to work. I have a lot of shit to go over with a lot of people tonight."

Once again, what the fuck?

***

Satisfied that Scott is supervising Nine and Chuck working through some basic spot sequences, Mitch heads over to let Psycho in. He prefers being able to leave the security door unlocked during training so he can focus on his job but the increased attention Saturday's show brought also brought weird people cruising through their parking lot. They're gonna have to figure out some new security measures.

What a strange fucking night.

"'Sup," Psycho greets him when Mitch ushers him inside, extending his hand once the door clunks shut for a bro handshake and hug.