It's Been A Bad Night....

[TechnicalPacifist]

As the show returned from an ad for the next years Wrestlemania, the camera faded in on a black T-Shirt with the current Wrestlemania's logo in the center of the chest. A hand appeared on screen, wrapping something up in a tan-colored bandage. As the camera zoomed out, it eventually revealed Brody Robinson, sitting on an examining table in the trainer's room backstage, with one of the WWF's physicians wrapping up his recently injured right hand. Brody's face showed clear worry for his wrist, and he clenched his fist repeatedly, much to the chagrin of the man covering it in elastic. As if trying to break the somber mood, Brody looked up to the physician with a half-serious smirk on his face.
"Give it to me straight, Doc. Will I ever play piano again?"

Without stopping his work, the physician simply scoffed at the boxer's joke.
"Mr. Robinson, I've been doing this for years. Do you really think that's funny to me anymore?"

His half-hearted joke easily rebuked, Brody didn't respond to the man, instead deciding to stay quite while the trainer finished up. This night just wasn't going his way, and he decided it would be better to keep his trap shut until he left this arena in the dust.

((Planned))  

[Salem Croft]

Limping down the corridor outside the training room, Mr. Money In The Bank himself was hobbling down the hall after having been seen by a fellow physician. Briefcase in tow, Salem looked lost in thought when a glimpse of black caught his eye, causing him to turn his attention over to Brody while he was being tended to. The rookie paused as if he wanted to say something, but hesitated a moment, not sure if something pressing was going on. Reaching out, the Most Wanted Man in Wrestling knocked his knuckles against the frame of the open door, trying to get the man's attention.

 

[TechnicalPacifist]

Brody lifted his head slowly, either trying to look mysterious or trying to buy time to decide on his facial expression. He caught sight of Salem, and a smile was on his face in less than a second. Not because he was happy to see the newly crowned Mr. Money In The Bank, but because he'd be damned before he showed off a hurt or depressed face to another competitor. With the physician finished with his work, Brody gave a short wave to Salem with his right hand, but remained sitting on the table.

"How ya doing, Croft? Nice briefcase."  

[Salem Croft]

Salem chuckled a little as he watched Brody put on a smile, a bit too overzealous in trying to convince Salem he were healthy. Stepping into the room when Brody greeted him, the rookie came forth and stood next to Robinson, gesturing to his own ailing ankle. "Turns out, I'll live." Salem joked, turning his attention to Brody's injured arm. He could tell his recent MITB opponent had been favoring it since he'd first glanced in the room, but it seemed Brody was trying not to make a fuss about it. "What about you? That arm gonna have to come off, or are they gonna let you keep it?"

 

[TechnicalPacifist]

Looking down at his right hand once again, Brody smile went from a hasty attempt to cover his problems to a genuine grin when he thought up a response to Salem's joke.

"I dunno. The prognosis is pretty bleak, but artificial limbs are getting better every day. With a little luck, I'll be growling 'I Never Asked For This' at people this time next year."

Chuckling a little at his own joke while ignoring the groan from the trainer behind him, Brody dropped his arm and slid off the bed, wondering what Salem's angle was. The friendly dialogue seemed odd coming out of one of the most hated guys on the roster, and it was clear he had something he wanted to discuss. But Brody was nothing if not polite, and he appreciated the concern for his wrist.

"Should be fine though, given a few weeks. So, what'd you need? I doubt you stopped by outta the goodness of your heart."  

[Salem Croft]

Salem laughed a little at Brody's humorous outlook, raising his spare hand to clutch his ribs a bit from the sting his chuckling provoked. But the way he phrased his question made the rookie raise an eyebrow, shaking his head in dismission of the weak chide Brody had taken at him.

"Heh. Actually, I did...is it really so hard to believe that?" Salem answered, posing the rhetorical question right back to Brody. "Listen. I'm sorry about how things turned out. That may seem weird coming from me, but had I not been in the match, I'd have pulled for you to take this home. Unlike most company guys, you don't ask for title shots or main-event matches, or expect anything for the hard work you put in. I can respect that, but I gotta ask...what would you have done, if you hadn't been taken off the ladder?" Salem asked genuinely this time, wondering about whether Brody would have made the selfish move and taken Salem down for his own benefit. "Don't get me wrong - I'm glad I never had to find out. But all the same, I can't help but think about it...a guy like you, who's never asked to be in the spotlight, despite all his talent - were you really prepared to climb over me, to further your career?"

 

[TechnicalPacifist]

"Of course I was ready to climb over you to win. What kind of idiot would go into one of the biggest matches of the year without promising to do everything he had to do to succeed? I mean, the idea that someone could be so....."

Brody stopped himself mid-sentence, looked to his left, and saw the hand he'd been slowly raising since he'd begun talking. His grin began to show faux-embarrassment, and he slowly brought his arm down with his opposite hand, trying to make it look like the arm movement was involuntary.

"Ok, so maybe I wouldn't have. But what's it matter? It's not like I can't earn a title shot on my own merit. I don't need to start throwing people off ladders to make a point, right? You don't get to be 'The Good Guy' if you make a business outta beating on people for your own gain."  

[Salem Croft]

Salem nodded a bit as Brody made his case, but his body language was more condescending than it supportive, the rookie feeling like Brody was trying to convince himself more than anything that victory had been attainable. But, as Robinson stopped talking, Salem reached over, letting out a quiet sigh as he patted Brody on the shoulder, similarly to how a friend would to a buddy in need.

"Brody...whether you like it or not, this is a 'dog eat dog' world. The strong survive, the weak get pushed aside. And honestly...you've spent so much time waiting in the wings that people have stopped taking you seriously. I mean...how much have you really done with yourself, over the last few years? You're agreeable, you're talented, and yet you've not seen any legitimate title shots in how long? I'm just saying - maybe you should stop looking at things as 'good' and 'bad', and start thinking about what's best for Brody."

Stepping towards the doorway, Salem reached down into his pocket and pulled out a pair of pennies, tossing them back to Robinson.

"That's my two cents...but, why don't you try giving someone your own two cents, for a change? Soon enough, you'll see what I'm talking about." Salem said, stepping out past the doorway, turning back to smirk at the burly brawler still sitting inside the infirmary. Now, if you'll excuse me...I have a 'Southern Belle from Hell' to tend to. Cheers, man." Salem said, starting off down the hall and out of the camera's line of sight.

 

[TechnicalPacifist]

After following Salem's departure from the room, the camera panned back to Brody, who remained planted in front of the exam table. He opened his hand and looked down at Salem's change, thinking over everything that had transpired. First he almost has a breakdown in a bathroom, then he gets pushed off a ladder and sprains his wrist on the way down. Now, on top of that, he was getting patronized with a lecture from a rookie who'd barely been around a year. Not even an original lecture, either. Just the same cynical rhetoric preaching the law of the wild. A lesser man might have chased Salem down and began a blistering tirade, but Brody only smirked down at the two pennies in his hand. It was going to take a bit more than a few bits of faux-copper to change his mind.

"Dog Eat Dog. What a load."

Thoughtlessly tossing the coins over his shoulder, Brody made his way out of the room, brushing past the camera and moving down the hallway towards the locker room. The camera zoomed in on the exam table, focusing on Salem's twin pennies as the video feed faded out for the next match.