The general sounds of the trainer office is what greets Heath Slater when he slowly climbs back to consciousness, his legs throbbing from thigh to knee. He grimaces and struggles to open his eyes, the cot crinkling under him as he releases a faint breath. "Drew? Jinder?" he mumbles, frowning when neither answer. He struggles anew, trying to sit up, but strong hands press against his chest, stopping him. He grunts, finally giving in when stabbing pain shoots up his core, leaving him breathless.

"Relax, you ginger git," Wade Barrett's thickly accented voice snaps. When Heath looks up, his face tight with pain, Wade rolls his eyes at him. "I swear, I don't know what goes through your mind half of the time, if anything. Challenging The Shield and then trying to rush the ring when Lesnar is just waiting for you?" He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest once Heath seems to lose all interest in getting up, his lips twisted in an annoyed sneer. "Do you have a death wish?"

Heath grimaces up at him, rolling his eyes as he tries once more to look around while ignoring the questions. "Where's Drew'n'Jinder?"

"I kicked them out. Wanted to talk to you," he says grimly, pushing a chair closer to the cot and settling into it with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Oh, great," Heath sighs, closing his eyes. "What now?"

Wade stares at him for a long moment before sighing. "3MB. Do you think this is effective leadership?"

Frowning, the ginger shrugs, his lips turned down into a frown. "What do you mean?"

"How long do you think Nexus or Corre would've lasted if I'd sent us into uneven fights, where we were sure to get our asses handed to us?" He pauses, almost amused by the huffy look on Heath's face, but doesn't let it derail him from making his point. "I know you want to make an impact, but does this really seem like the way, by antagonizing The Shield and Brock Lesnar?"

Heath stares at him, an unhappy look in his brown eyes. "Lesnar wasn't my doin', he's the one who came out and laid us all out... I wasn't even talkin' about him."

"But you did confront HHH, which led to all of this. Do you really think being a good leader to any faction means that you have to lead them into fights they're clearly outmatched for?" he asks, rolling his eyes when Heath starts to look offended. "Use your brain, Slater, if it has any oxygen left by now. The Shield has been unbeatable for months now, even golden boy Cena, Sheamus and Ryback unable to get anywhere with them. HHH is the COO of the company. How do either of them seem like good ideas to target? Unless you're trying to get yourself and the other two fired, or injured."

Heath looks like he's been slapped, dark eyes staring down at the cot supporting him. "We just wanted to get noticed," he mutters, picking at the leather on his pants. "Leave an impression. I guess I should've thought it through more."

"Congratulations, you've realized something the rest of us have known since meeting you," Wade smirks, clapping Heath roughly on the shoulder when he looks up, angry at Wade's seemingly mocking dismissal of his issues. "Now do you know what to do from here?"

"Be more careful in the future with my ideas," he mutters glumly, rolling his eyes while feeling like he's back at school, getting a lecture from one of his least favorite teachers. "Got it."

Barrett nods, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. "I know you want to be a good leader," he admits with his eyes closed. "I'm only trying to help you a bit here, Slater." Standing, he moves towards the doors. "I'll get the other two fools in here for you now."

He's almost out of the room when Heath finally speaks up. "I know. Thanks, Barrett." He pauses only momentarily, nodding at his former teammate, before continuing on into the hallway to collect the other two men, smirking to himself.