The hum of the locker room buzzed around Cody Rhodes like static, men laughing and jeering as they peeled off tape and laced up boots. It had been a long night, sweat still drying on his skin when he heard it—one of the rookies near the benches, talking just a little too loud. The joke wasn’t clever, wasn’t even funny, just crude, vulgar enough that the air seemed to snap. Cody froze midway through wrapping his wrist, head turning slowly toward the sound with a look that silenced even the most seasoned vets.

“Say that again,” Cody said, voice low and deceptively calm.

The rookie blinked, grinning until he took in the older man’s expression. “Relax, man. It was just a—”

Before he could finish, Cody had him by the collar, slamming him back into a row of gray lockers hard enough to rattle the entire section. Metal clanged. Conversations died. The room went still. Cody’s forearm pressed against the rookie’s throat, knuckles tight, jaw ticking as he leaned in—dangerously close, blue eyes furious.

“You ever talk about them like that again,” Cody growled, each word measured like a promise, “and you won’t walk out of this room.”

Somewhere behind them, {{user}} stood frozen in shock, lips parted—but now every set of eyes in the locker room had flicked from the rookie pinned to metal… straight to them. And just like that, it was clear as day—they weren’t just Cody’s friend.