Chapter Five: Six Days Until Backlash

She was tired. She just wanted to go back to her hotel room and get some sleep. She pulled open her trunk and dropped her duffel bag inside, slamming it shut. She turned around and looked into the empty parking lot, a strange wave of paranoia washing over her like a bucket of water. She shook it off, and climbed into the driver's seat before peeling out of the arena parking lot, driving away into the night.

She entered the arena, hand-in-hand with Batista. She had to admit, he looked really good in his suit and dark shades. She even went out and bought a pair of shades for herself; after all, they needed to look similar to one another. He had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and Mira carried the World Heavyweight Championship on her shoulder. She had decided to take a classier approach that night, even though it didn't matter. They would still brand her a slut, whether or not she was dressed in nothing or a burlap sack. But she - on the insistence of Batista - had chosen to dress up in a pinstripe suit to match him.

They walked through the parking lot in silence, and their eyes were both focused on the door ahead...

...Wham!

Batista was blindsided by John Cena, knocking Mira into the wall. She hit her head and slunk to the floor as John Cena and Batista began trading punches back and forth.

Mira felt a throbbing pain in the back of her head, and her hand flew to the back of her head in shock. Cena had crashed into her. He had lost his mind! "Dave -" she called out, in an effortless plea to stop the fight. "Guys - stop!" she cried out. "Wait until Backlash, stop -!" She watched in sheer horror as Batista grabbed Cena by the back of his neck and threw him through the driver's side window of a car. Mira screamed upon the impact and she stood up, trying to rush over to see if Cena was okay, but Batista grabbed her.

"Let's go," he snarled.

"Oh, my God," she whispered. He was dragging her away, and she was turning to face him. "Somebody's gotta help him!"

"You know, for somebody that agreed to be in this situation, you sure act as though you care about him. Stop it." She bit her lower lip as Cena slunk to the ground, the blood oozing down his face, comingling with the shards of broken glass.

"I got here as soon as I could," Shane O'Mac replied, entering the trainer's room. He almost didn't make it; the flight was almost delayed. He saw Torrie Wilson sitting with John Cena as he was being stitched. "What the hell happened?"

"That bitch Batista, that's what happened!" Cena snapped. "He threw me through a window."

"But you attacked him, weren't you saying?" he asked.

"Didn't mean he should have attempted murder on my ass!" he snapped.

"What about Mira?"

"What about her?" Cena demanded. "She tried to get me some help, but he dragged her off."

"She tried to help you out?" Shane asked, incredulous.

"Well, I did go face-first through Orton's car." Shane nodded; you had to be a really cold being to ignore somebody in that predicament. Mira, he knew could never be that cold.

"I wanted to tell you that after Backlash, we're going to be giving you a manager," he replied. "Just somebody to look out for your best interests personally and professionally."

"Is Slick coming in?" he asked. It was an internet rumor that they were going to bring in a legendary figure to manage him.

"No. We're still trying to narrow down the candidates, though, so you'll know by Monday." He nodded. "You gonna be okay to fight in the main event?"

"I want that bitch," he snarled. Shane nodded and looked at Torrie.

"Nice to see his intensity is intact." Torrie nodded, a slight smirk crossing her face. "I'll see you all Sunday. I need to go and speak with our champion about rules." They nodded.

Batista opened the door to find Shane McMahon and he rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk," Shane replied, walking into the room. He noticed one particular absence and asked, "Where's Mira?"

"Who knows? Who cares?" Batista asked.

"Well, that's a lovely attitude to have since she's the only reason you're wearing that championship," Shane replied. "I'm amazed Dad even let her get away with that. But you know Dad, a sucker for a great WrestleMania moment. And she did just that."

"What the hell is your point, Shane?" Batista snapped. He was in no mood to deal with Shane McMahon at this given moment.

"The Board will be preparing your suspension papers for throwing Cena through a window like that."

"How do you figure it was me?" Batista replied.

"Cena said it was you and we're pretty sure that even though Mira's teamed with you, she's not going to lie for you. Especially after seeing her white knight go through a window like that."

Batista's tune changed instantly. "He shouldn't have attacked me."

"What do you think he would have done?" Shane asked. "Let it slide? You took his girl and his title in one night."

"She's not his girl."

"Obviously not," Shane replied. "So how did you do it? How did you manage to make her let go of Cena and come running to you?"

"That's none of your damn business," he snapped. Shane smirked.

"Okay, then, Batista," Shane replied, realizing it was in his best interest to just throw in the towel. "Have yourself a nice night, and uh, good luck at Backlash on Sunday."

Stephanie McMahon sat with Mira in a skybox as the show progressed. She was staring out the window, quiet, watching the matches below. Stephanie was staring at Mira curiously. "You look a little bothered," Stephanie replied. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"No."

"Is it about Cena getting hurt tonight?"

She sighed. Stephanie was a McMahon, and they didn't know when to quit. "I wanted to check on him so bad." There was a long, awkward silence. "Is he okay?"

"He's got about ten stitches in his forehead from the collision, but he's up and anxious for Backlash."

Mira sighed. "Great. I guess I should warn Batista."

"No point. He's officially suspended for sixty days after Backlash. You can't just go around doing that to whoever you want. Cena's been fined for the attack."

"Well, that seems fair," Mira scoffed.

"Well, Batista isn't sporting ten stitches in his head and ten pounds of glass in his clothing." Mira exhaled; she was right. "So what does this mean for me? I'm back in singles competition?"

"I think Dad has something planned for you. Don't quote me on it, though." Mira nodded.

"Terrific."

"You still care for Cena?"

"No!" she said vehemently. "I wish he'd just disappear. Doesn't mean that I want to see him get hurt; I just want him to go away." She shook her head. "Nobody seems to get the fact that he just called non-stop and he was just always there. I couldn't be alone. Instead, it's poor Cena, poor Cena..."

"You don't really buy that," Stephanie told her.

"Buy what?"

"That you're the victim. You didn't have to hit Cena with a chair."

"Why did he have to pick me?" she asked.

"Why shouldn't he have picked you?" Stephanie asked. "Mira, any girl alive would dream of being on that man's arm. And I know you do."

"I am on the arm of Raw's hottest champion," Mira retorted.

"You're a figurehead and you know it," Stephanie said. "You should have seen the way he was flirting with the other Divas last week. It was disgusting!" She searched Mira's face for a sign of pain, but didn't see it.

"Flirting is flirting," Mira replied coolly. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Ah, that sounds like the naive Mira Barerra we all know and love," Stephanie replied.

"Why are you trying to rattle my cage?"

"Why did you do what you did at WrestleMania?"

"Why do you keep pushing this issue?"

"Why aren't you answering my question?"

Mira smirked. This was going nowhere, and they both knew it. "I'm with Batista. You can all get over it because that's the way it's going to be."

Stephanie smiled that vindictive McMahon smile. "Suit yourself," Stephanie replied, dropping the subject. "I'll let the big guy know you're up here." She thought she saw a glimpse of hesitation, but Mira just shrugged and went back to watching the matches unfolding in the ring.

Stephanie was surprised. There was just no shaking her.

Backlash on Sunday. Tune in.