Bodyslam

Work the Stick

Word has apparently gotten around.

While everyone keeps their distance as they normally do before a show, Mitch can feel eyes on him and every time he glances around he finds someone looking back.

They don't know the details, but they know Mitch is cutting a big promo before the main event tonight and that the main event will be followed by an announcement in the locker room. The speculation is drawing a lot of attention to his quiet little corner.

"What'dya think? Is it too much?"

Snacks steps back and eyes his handiwork. "I don't think so. If you wanna emphasize the injury, going out strapped and shirtless will absolutely do the trick." He'd gone through nearly three rolls of coban wrap to bind Mitch's shoulder, upper arm, and chest in a dramatic but visually appealing manner so no one could possibly miss that he's hurt.

Mitch carefully moves his arm around, testing the give of the tape, and when he finds it adequate he slides his sling over his head and into place. "Good?"

"Good," Snacks affirms, then quietly adds, "Kinda hot."

"Jackass," Mitch replies with an eyeroll and a grin. "Last chance. You sure about this?"

"Yes?" Snacks says hesitantly. "I mean, I am, but..."

"Just remember, it's a work. I won't mean any of it even if it sounds like I do."

"And you won't tell me anything beforehand."

"I can't. I need you to get mad, and I need you to react organically. This is your repackage, and if I do it right it's part of the brand repackage." Mitch draws a shaky breath. "No pressure or anything."

Snacks sighs and bites his lip. "I trust you, but holy shit I hate going into anything blind like this."

"You're not going in blind," Mitch sees Renegade approach in his peripheral vision. "You have your lines, you know you need to read your lines, you know your three cues, and you know that you need to react to my promo. Let the new gimmick out as it comes. I'll wait for you in gorilla afterwards. Jesus fuck, Renny."

Mitch eyes Ren. He's decked out head to toe in his renegade biker gear which is, y'know, normal for his gimmick but apparently being a part of this promo made him want to take things up a few notches. "Hey guys. Fifteen minutes til we need to go, Mitchy. How do I look?"

From the corner of his eye he can see the expression on Snacks' face and honestly, same. "Ren, dude," Mitch says slowly, doing his best to stay composed. "You can't wear that. You'll look like my leather daddy and I don't think that's a direction you want to go with your gimmick."

"Like your what?"

"Lea-ther. Dad-dy," Mitch enunciates carefully. "Just think about what that might mean and please don't make me explain. Can we trade the bare chest and leather vest for a t-shirt? And maybe lose the aviators? And the hat?"

"But -" Renny frowns. "I don't get it. Leather daddy? Is that a...oh. Ohhhh. Oh, shit."

"Do, um," Snacks is fighting hard not to smile. "Do you go out to bars like that, man?"

He's hurriedly stripping his vest off. "This would explain a few things. I'll be back in fifteen."

***

"I can't believe you're doing this," Renegade murmurs as they duck out of the locker room exit into the cool night air and slip around the side of the arena.

"Right?" Mitch says as they reach their spot at a side entrance not normally used during shows. Chuck's girlfriend is waiting on the other side of it, ready to let them in at her cue. He gives the door a tap and, after a moment, hears a return tap. "I'm fucking terrified right now."