A/N: Obvious content warning for this chapter - blood, (controlled) violence, weapons, etc. You should already know this is coming.
Wear a mask. Black Lives Matter. Register to vote. Keep raging.
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"We're live in ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four..."
He's not exactly sure what he's watching as Jim, the tech guy, taps buttons on one of the devices laid out on the table while his eyes flick over the monitors in front of the group but when the countdown, now silent, reaches zero there's a riot of noise from the crowd. A panel on the split screen on one of the displays, a panning shot of the arena, shows spotlights dancing across the packed house and another panel shows the stage display lighting up with first the show's promo image and then, a moment later, the video package.
Mitch leans in closer. One of the monitors is split into six smaller feeds from different cameras plus a direct feed for video packages and a second monitor shows the live picture being broadcast to the various cable, satellite, and internet pay per view providers streaming the show. The live feed cuts from the crowd shot to the video package and the tech guy nods.
"Feed's live, and we're clear."
He's never been so glad to have skipped pizza for dinner the night before because right now he feels like he's going to puke. He doesn't even flinch as Scott's arm winds tightly across his shoulders. Everyone crowded in the tech area is clinging to each other in some way.
"Nine," Mitch turns his head slightly. "Locker room, tell Psycho everything is good to go."
Management and tech are the only personnel allowed in this curtained-off section of their new backstage setup but Nine gets a pass as runner and no one even gives Scott a second glance, almost like he's supposed to be there. For now Mitch is in tech and Psycho is managing the locker room; they'll temporarily switch after Psycho finishes his first match of the night against Chuck.
"Ring announcer, go," Kevin calls through the pulled-back curtain separating tech from gorilla. With a few taps on the lightboard and the soundboard, Savage Summer officially begins.
***
"VIP, second row, seats 34 and 35" Mitch angles the iPad he's holding so Nine can see the photos displayed there. It was a pretty fucking brilliant idea on her part, to snap photos of the families as they came in so she'd be able to spot the right people quickly. "Tell 'em Joey's getting a couple stitches back here but he's fine otherwise. Row 2, seats 20 through 23, all clear."
He tries to ignore Chuck hovering nearby, his phone up and recording. Scott has this crazy idea that they might want to think about vlogging and monetizing some of the backstage content and Mitch has been too caught up in other, more pressing, goings-on to give it more than a passing thought and a general okay. Since his match was second on the card Chuck got roped into playing cameraman for the rest of the evening and he's been taking the assignment very seriously.
At some point he's gonna have to start retraining his brain to call Matt by his actual name instead of Chuck.
***
At least he can sit for the next half hour or so.
Though it's far from a break, for the first time in what feels like days he doesn't have to stand. Instead Mitch gets to sit in the fancy swivel chair and wear the headset at the tech table while Kevin works his midcard match.
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Bodyslam
FanfictionScott's a cocky, driven performer trying to make it in the world of professional wrestling. Before he can make it, though, he needs to get past Mitch.
