Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue. Just borrowing.
Paul Lavesque was pissed off. No, scratch that. He wasn't just pissed off. He was on the verge of killing something. God, where was that sledge hammer when you freaking needed it? He wished he could use it right now. What was the cause of this sudden rage? None other than his fellow wrestlers. As the son-in-law of the owner of WWE, he was given a certain responsibility to keep everyone in check and make sure that no one killed and/or maimed anyone else. It was an unspoken rule within his family.
So when he got a call that a handful superstars and divas were in a full out brawl, including his protege Randy, there were going to be problems. By the time he had gotten to the arena, security had managed to pull the combatants apart. Finding the head security guard, he cringed when he saw that he seemed worse for wear.
"What the hell happened?" he asked as his blood pressure began to rise by the second.
"We aren't entirely sure, sir," the guard replied. "All we know is that we heard Orton, I believe, screaming at Mr. Austin."
"Do you know what he was screaming?"
"That he was a son of a bitch. And then, this is when it gets really strange. Mr. ah, Runnels, yes began to attack his older brother, accusing him of trying to ruin his life. Others tried to break things up, but Mr. Mizanin broke down in tears-"
"I DON'T CARE IF I GET CARTED OFF!" Randy screamed from the locker room area. "THAT MOTHER FUCKER IS GOING TO DIE!"
"I think I'd better take things from here," Paul said. "I assure you that whatever damage they may have caused , we will take care of it."
"They seem to be pretty dangerous, are you sure you can handle them?" the guard asked nervously.
"Trust me, if there is anyone who can control that guy, it's going to be me." Paul turned and headed to where his angry younger friend was pacing back and forth. The scene wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be. Ted had a fat lip that was bleeding slightly. He was talking to Adam and Chris while nervously looking over at his lover, Cody. The usually perky and happy younger man was leaning in the corner scowling and sporting a black eye.
John Cena was desperately trying to hold back a raging Randy Orton from a doorway leading to another room. A sobbing Mike was pleading with him to calm down. His shirt was torn, and his usually pristine hair was a mess. Phil Brooks was trying to talk to him while Maryse and a group of Divas stood in the far side of the locker room trying to make sense of what was going on. There was only one thing that could stop the chaos. He took a deep breath.
"EVERYONE! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" There was silence instantly, save for Mike's whimpering and the occasional growl from the angrier occupants of the room. "Now some of you need to go to the trainers and get cleaned up. Mike, go get a drink of water, and calm down. Phil, make sure it's just a drink of water."
The crowd dispersed and did what they were instructed. Eventually, ice was applied to what needed ice, cuts had bandages, and people that had to be kept apart were kept apart. When at long last there was silence, Paul spoke again.
"Ok, now can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" In the quiet that followed, a small voice answered.
"It's kind of a long story."