Chapter Ten

Bulldozed!

"I'll...I'll show her. If it kills me, I'll show her..."

"Whoa, wait man, what's that supposed to mean?"

Mira stood in the middle of the ring, microphone to her lips. She had just finished announcing that the night's Raw would feature a contract signing between Randy and Dave for their upcoming World Heavyweight Championship match at Survivor Series in three weeks. The crowd was excited, knowing that in pro wrestling all contract signings end in uncontrollable brawls. As she lowered the microphone, the familiar jungle-themed music of Umaga blared through the speakers. She turned her head towards the stage. Umaga was standing there with his smarmy manager, Armando Alejandro Estrada. Mira dismissed him as an idiot and a loudmouth. They made their way down to the ring, Umaga's tongue darting in and out of his mouth as he stomped.

They climbed into the ring and took their place across from Mira. Mira suddenly felt claustophobic, closed in. There was a bubble of fear expanding in her stomach, threatening to pop into sheer terror. Armando ripped the microphone out of her hand, causing her blue eyes to blaze like the icy fires of hell. "Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Armando rolled into the microphone. "Everybody...listen...to me. I am Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmandoooooooo Alejaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaandrrrrrrrrro Essssssssssssssssstrrrrrrrrada." Mira rolled her eyes in boredom; after all, he ran this same speech every Monday night. She missed the managers of old, like Bobby Heenan. Bobby would have slapped the lips off Armando. She smiled at the thought.

"I want to let you know that you...underrate my...Samoan Bulldozer, Umaga. That is unforgivable, Miss Barrera." He rolled the r's. The duo took a menacing step towards Mira, who refused to back down from the two of them. "So, I think that it's time Umaga shows you...what he...is about." Before Mira knew it, she was high in the air and crashed down into the mat with a violent Samoan Drop.

The second Mira hit the mat, it was as if all the oxygen had been forced out of her. She struggled to catch her breath, curling into the fetal position and clutching her ribs. Her eyes squeezed shut in pain. The ring vibrated all around her and then she felt a set of hands on her ribs. "Mira! Mira, are you okay! Help! We need the paramedics!"

"Shut up..." she choked out. Opening her eyes slowly, her blurred vision came back into focus on Randy. His eyes were full of concern, and another emotion she couldn't put her finger on. He put an arm around her gently and helped her sit up.

"Christ, Mira, are you okay? We should get you to the hospital..."

"I'm fine. I just had the wind knocked out of me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Jesus Christ!" He understood her irritation and her pain. Instead of pushing the issue further, he helped her to her feet, keeping an arm around her waist. He led her towards the ropes. She winced.

"I think we should get you to the doctor."

"I'm fine, Randy. Nothing feels broken," she confessed. She was thankful that John was going to be back the following week. Being around Randy so much made her uncomfortable. She gave him a match with Umaga later in the night and decided to let Test have his way with Armando. Sure, Armando wasn't a wrestler, but nobody put their hands on the General Manager of Raw. Livid, Mira wanted to find out who was behind the attack, if someone gave them a tip in that direction.

Sitting down at her desk in her office, Mira sucked in a deep breath. Her ribs were sore. And starting next week, she would figure out what possessed Armando to attempt something like that. But for now, it was breathe in...

...And breathe out...

...Breathe in...

...And breathe out...

Randy Orton was leaned against the door frame watching her. He wasn't sure if she was asleep, but she looked so beautiful.

Mira walked down the long hallway of the arena and stopped at the door marked "Evolution". Just about everybody was long gone. Gently and with a moment of hesitation, she pushed the door opened and walked into the darkened room. She knew he was still there. Moving quietly, she felt her way along for a light switch. When she found it, she flicked it and flooded the room with light.

He stood with his back to her, his head rested on his muscular arm against the cubby. He was still in his red trunks. The room looked ransacked, as though he had come back and thrown a tantrum. She couldn't blame him; twenty-four hours before had been the happiest night of his life. On this night, he learned his friends were not as happy for him as they claimed. The World Heavyweight Championship was hanging on a rail.

"Randy?" she called out softly, stepping over an overturned chair. He turned to her. She was a vision in black, her hair falling around her face in soft waves. She observed the five stitches above his right eye. He wasn't sure he had ever been so happy to see her.

"Mira..." His voice threatened to crack. She approached, running her finger gingerly along the gash.

"I am so sorry," she whispered. "You didn't deserve this. Is there anything I can do? Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm just going to get dressed and go back to the hotel. Sleep it off. Thanks for the offer, though."

"It's what friends do. Let me know if you need anything," she told him. Turning, she straightened up a chair and began to make her way out of the room.

"Mira..."

She turned back to him. He stepped towards her and enveloped her in his giant arms. It took her aback for a second, but when she got comfortable in the embrace, she hugged him back just as tightly.

It had been such a sweet moment that Mira never forgot it.

Now, here they were, two years later, and she despised him. One of his biggest regrets was letting things get so sour between them. He had come to appreciate her and rely on her as a friend. He'd thought she was the hottest thing on two legs, but there was a special bond between the two of them that he had torpedoed. He was good at doing things like that.

With a deep breath, he made the move of knocking on the door frame. Mira opened her eyes.

"Thanks for your help," she told him. Her mellow demeanor surprised him, considering what she had just endured. "How was your match?"

"Nobody ever escapes the RKO," he told her. She smiled. "Do you have any idea what could have prompted the attack?"

"Not a damn clue," she answered. Her phone rang. "Sorry." He nodded, to assure her it was okay. She answered the phone. "Barrera." She listened for a moment and then a wide smile formed. Randy could hear mumbles of panic on the other side. "Kurt! Kurt, stop - I'm okay. I'm fine. Kurt!" She was laughing. Randy had to smirk. "Really, I'm fine. It just knocked the wind out of me. No broken bones, no anything of the sort." She laughed. "I'm sore, but otherwise fine. It's okay. How are things with you?" She listened to him and she laughed. "Okay. Well I'm happy to hear that. Okay. I'll talk to you later then. Bye." She hung up.

"Angle?"

"Yeah." She put the phone back on her desk. "He worries about me too much. The Samoan Drop thing probably didn't quell his fears." Randy laughed.

"I guess not. I hate to do this, Mira, but I gotta run," he told her. "Early flight. Hope you feel better."

"Thanks again," she replied softly. He nodded and he walked out.

She sat back, and a strange thought hit her. Lately it seemed as though he was trying to get closer and closer to her again, coming to her rescue and interrogating her about others.

Just what in the world was going on?

Mira's pretty sure that there may be something behind Randy's behavior to her? Is there basis to that...It's all going to come to a head at Survivor Series in chapter eleven...