As I said before, I'm just making things up as I go.

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I'd really appreciate it, and it'd help drive my will to continue on.

The Royal Rumble:

Michael, Wherefore Art Thou?

A frustrated sigh, which found it's way out through the half-parted lips of the divas champion, soon furnished through the silence that had assembled within her locker room. With an acerbated expression etched on her face, Melina slammed her cell phone on the desk that resided an arms-length away from the luxury couch that she was sitting on. Her actions didn't go unnoticed , of course. After all, how could they? The slam of the phone was just as loud as the sigh she had delivered a few seconds earlier.

John, whom had just finished lacing up his left boot, rose to full height and turned his attention over to Alicia, who was the secondary guest within Melina's leeway. The Floridian, who was postured right next to Melina on her sheer black couch, turned to the Latina.

"What's the matter," questioned Alicia, who was expecting to hear something that had a sense of seriousness behind it. It was totally unlike her best friend to get upset over something involving her cell phone. She knew that Melina couldn't have been expecting a call, for whenever she was, it was a call from John. Maybe it was an expected text message. But, if it was, then why was she getting so worked up over it?

"It's Michael," confessed Melina, which prompted her beau to immediately stop and turn his full attention toward her. "He hasn't returned any of my text messages or any of my phone calls. I haven't seen him at all today."

"That all," asked Alicia, shortly after letting lose a dramatic sigh of relief. "Don't worry about him. He's probably off with Maryse. You know, like always," she voiced, somewhat in a soothing tone.

"Yeah. What she said," John added in before turning his back to the two to continue with his preparation. For a second there, he could have sworn that his lover was speaking of a different Michael.

"…But, it's so uncommon for him to not text anything back. Usually, he would at least reply with a smiley. Something to tell me that he had read what I sent."

"Maybe he's busy getting ready," John proposed over his shoulder before commencing to lace up his right boot.

"Or Maybe he's with Maryse," Alicia voiced shortly before her lips curled into a smile. With added emphasis on the word with, The couple got exactly what she was getting at. John had even chuckled. Now that he had thought back on it, The Miz was always out getting laid. Whether he got his fix from Maryse or someone else. "You know how he is, Mel"

"But him and Maryse aren't even an item. Thank god," Melina said in reply. It was no secret that she and Maryse absolutely hated each other. Alicia wasn't too fond of the blond herself, but her and the Canadian were okay enough to hold a conversation. The only person in the room whom was actually friend's with Maryse, was John. He didn't find anything wrong with her. She was a nice girl, albeit a little overweening. But, that was one of few things that he had in common with her.

"I don't really see what the fuss is about. She's a cool person," John proclaimed, knowing that it would draw heat from his inamorata and his pal Alicia.

Melina scoffed shortly after rolling her eyes. "Whatever. Can we change the subject before I heave?" Melina questioned upon scooting back in her seat. "I swear…just the thought of her makes me want to blow chunks," she said under her breath as Alicia playfully stuck her index finger into her own mouth, creating a scene to go along with what her friend had just said. Right after doing so, Alicia cued the audio of a fabricated gag, which caused Melina to burst into a small fit of laughter.

"I don't really understand what he sees in her. I never found her to be pretty," said Alicia after removing her finger from her mouth. "But whatever makes him happy, I guess."

"Blech! I don't think anyone has found her to be pretty," Melina said as she reached her arm out toward the very desk her cell phone laid upon. This time, instead of grabbing a hold of her phone, she took a hold of the remote that laid next to it. She used it to turn on the TV, which was positioned a few feet in front of her and Alicia. The screen had remained blank for a few seconds, but upon finally showing an image, it revealed that the Royal Rumble match had been progressing quite smoothly.

"So. What number did Johnny draw," Alicia asked, fixating her eyes upon the screen of the television.

"Lucky number twelve," replied Melina with a sigh. She had high hopes of John walking out the rumble as the winner, but what were the odds with a number such as that? She had faith in him and all, but there were plenty of high caliber superstars in that match. The likes of Triple H, Shawn Michaels, and Batista. She couldn't fathom how hard it would be to get rid of those three, let alone twenty-seven others.

"Hm. My favorite number," Alicia said as she turned her focus from the TV, over to John. "When do you report to the gorilla, Morri?"

"I have until Entrant Number eleven runs out," He answered as he turned around to face the two.

"Well…entrant number ten just entered," said Melina. "I think you should get going."

"Alrighty," John said as he approached both women, whom rose from their seated position. Alicia was the first to give John a "Good Luck" and a hug. Melina, on the other hand, was a little reluctant. She was not ready to see her beloved go out there and possibly get thrown over the top rope. Not when the match meant so much to him.

So, there they stood. Melina looking up into the green orbs that stared back down into her very own. She wanted to leave with him. She wanted to be there by his side, like he was for her. She wanted to assist him in realizing his dream. His dream of maineventing Wrestlemania. But, she could not. He had to go at it alone. Unfortunately.

"Don't disappoint me," Melina finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice somewhat soft, displaying a small amount of apprehension. She was trying to hide the fact that she was actually frightened, with what she said.

"I won't," John assured in a whisper. He placed his hand lightly upon his lover's cheek, which immediately began to heat up with a small blush.

"This is your night…"

"No, Doll. This is our night," he corrected, in a rather low tone. After brushing his thumb gently upon her cheek, John leaned in toward her face to plant a soft, yet loving kiss upon her pulchritudinous lips. Melina's heart began to race as soon as his mouth came in contact with hers, and the blood started rushing into her cheeks, illuminating her elegant face with a deep flush. At that very moment, Melina could not have cared less if he went out there or not, so long as it meant their lips stayed intermingled. But, her wishes went unheard. He pulled back, which caused Melina to mentally curse the royal rumble. "I'll see you two after the match," he promised. "I love you, Melina," he said softly.

It took a few seconds for Melina to regain her self. He had took her breath away with that one, and it left her unable to respond as quickly as she usually would have. But, she managed to say something as he made his exit. "I love you too, John!" She yelled before she heard the door shut. "…So much…," she said under her breath as she looked at the closed door. "…Good luck…"

And The Winner Is…

"John…you are NOTHING without me. You'll NEVER be a top dog…not while you're competing in MY yard!"

Those words echoed throughout the space of John Morrison's head. It was probably the only thing keeping him in the competition. At the current moment, He couldn't recall where he was, let alone what superstar had said those words to him. But, he was determined to prove who ever it was wrong. His eyes started to flutter open while his hearing began to pick back up. He immediately heard the screaming crowd, the sound of bodies falling onto the mat, and the shouting of one superstar in particular. A superstar screaming all sorts of obscenities.

"I'm gonna win. I'm going to Wrestlemania," the man shouted.

With his blurred vision, Morrison scoped out the area. Due to the fact that he had to look up just to see the superstars surrounding him, he concluded that he was on the mat. He looked to his left, and saw the bottom rope. He looked to his right, and saw the exact same thing. So, he was still in it. Out between one of the turnbuckles apparently. Before he could really begin to shake the cobwebs out, he heard the loud thud of a competitor landing a few feet in front of him. The sheer sound acted as an alarm clock, one that awoke The A-lister. His vision: restored. His hearing: rejuvenated. Now everything was crystal clear. Looking ahead, Morrison saw that the superstar that had fallen in front of him was none other than Montel Vontavious Porter. From the sweat that was dripping down his face, John assumed that he had been in there for quite some time. But, the odd thing was that John couldn't really remember how long HE was in the match. He couldn't recall anything that happened at the moment. The last thing he actually remembered was leaving Melina's locker room. Taking in a deep breath, John shifted his oculars to the other superstars whom were in the ring. The only ones present were Jericho and…The Miz.

The very sight of the Miz, whom was currently getting the beat down of a life time by the hands of Chris Jericho, brought everything back to the grounded superstar. He had entered the rumble at number twelve, and had eliminated two superstars within thirty seconds of being in the ring. He had went on, avoiding being eliminated by the likes of Big Show and Triple H. He had no idea on what happened to Show and Hunter, but he did remember just whom came in shortly before they disappeared. It was non other than the Heart Break Kid, Shawn Michaels.

So there he was. Going toe-to-toe with one of the best in the business in Shawn Michaels. Though the objective of the match was to eliminate your opponent by throwing him over the top rope, The Showstopper had other plans. He and Morrison fought it out, both men getting shot after shot in while the superstars that surrounded them, disposed of themselves. Morrison, lost in the thrill of the battle, lost count on how many superstars had entered the match. He was pretty sure that they were on the 26th entrant by the time the crowd finished up with their ten second count down. And that's when he heard it.

"Aweeeeesooooome!!!!"

The start of his partner's music lit up the entire arena. The crowd weren't too pleased to see him, but John was definitely glad that he was finally entering the match. After all, entering in at number twelve had Morrison on the verge of passing out. He was exhausted by this point, but had enough in the tank to keep up with Shawn, whom just refused to throw in the towel. Both men continued to fight it out, until John felt himself being pulled back. The next thing he saw was The Miz charging in, striking an enervated Legend in the gut. John, not wasting a single moment after seeing this, charged in, and the two both got rid of Shawn Michaels by clothes lining him out of the ring, to the outside. But that's when John's Memory broke. He couldn't recall what really happened next. But he did remember Shawn reentering the match, throwing a fit about how he was eliminated. The next thing John knew, A ref, whom was in the ring trying to get Shawn back out, fell to the ground. And then another. And then one more. All struck by the fury of Mr. Wrestlemania. And then he turned to John, whom promised himself that he would be ready for whatever Shawn threw at him. But, something about Shawn through John off. The look in his eyes. The look that revealed everything from Heartbreak, to anger. The cold look in his orbs told a story. A story filled with a vague, reoccurring fiasco. And while John stood there gawking, Shawn leapt a foot back, fell into position, sidestepped, and the next thing John managed to see was the sole of a certain icon's foot coming in his direction. Then everything went black.

Done in by Shawn Michaels. Seeing that it was someone such as him, there was no telling how long John had been out. But, for the oddest reason he was still in the match. MVP, whom was still before John, had slowly started to rise to his feet. That's when John decided to hop back into action. Using the turnbuckle that he was laid out by, John helped himself up to his feet. Montel had his back turned to Morrison, and was just about to hop in the fight that Chris and The Miz were in, but all of his actions were hindered when he felt the tight grasp of John Morrison's hands locking around his attire. Morrison turned in a 180 like rotation, and used the momentum of it to throw MVP over the nearest ring rope. The "Franchise Playa" soon found himself tumbling down onto the protective mat that resided outside of the ring. Now, with Morrison up, and one less man in the competition, it was time for the contest to come to an end.

With only three men left, The royal rumble was mere minutes away from coming to a close, making a new star out of one of the three current men in the process. The Miz had held his ground with Chris Jericho, but was looking worse for wear. The self proclaimed Face of smack down wasn't in good shape either, but he was definitely showing that he had the heart to continue on. In Jericho's mind, the match was as good as his. He was in the ring with two youngsters, two "up-and-comers." Two superstars who had yet to get their mainevent break. Chris had been there. Chris had been champion. Chris had done everything, but win the Royal rumble. Morrison, on the other hand, was under the impression of waiting for a rain drop in the drought. He figured that it was very unlikely for him to leave as the victor. Not when he was this tired. Not when he was in the ring with someone as dangerous as the Miz, and with someone whom was lethal enough to become the first ever undisputed champion in WWE history. Now mind you, Morrison had defeated Jericho in the past. But it took FAR too much to do so. And at the moment, he didn't believe that he had what it took.

The Miz had managed to get away from Chris, and was in somewhat of an inebriated state due to the beating he had received while Morrison was out. Now all three men were separated. All three, were staring each other down. Morrison was at one corner. The Miz at another. Jericho in his own. The Miz had his right arm wrapped around his ribs, breathing heavily as he tried to regain some of the lost oxygen. Morrison stood, his head still rattled by what had taken him out earlier. He couldn't really think straight, but he figured that it wouldn't effect him too much at this point of time. Jericho, with that smug look of confidence etched on his handsome face, was probably in the best condition. He wasn't holding a nagging body part, nor was he showing any signs of abuse. He was golden enough to walk out as victor, if the two allowed him to do so. Now, Jericho knew that he stood in between the current unified tag team champions. So, he figured that they'd work together to take him. But, of course, he believed that he was one step ahead of them. The Miz looked over at his tag partner, whom stared back. Michael motioned his eyes toward Jericho, then took off toward the blond. John had absolutely NO clue on what the eye movement meant, but figured that it had something to do with attacking Jericho, so shortly after his partner went in for the kill, Morrison followed.

As soon as the Miz came in range of Jericho, he was greeted with a stiff kick to his lower abdomen, which stopped him in his tracks. All the little air that he had managed to sum up, was forced out of his large body. Jericho quickly followed the kick up with a sharp blow to Michael's face, causing the loudmouth to stumble back a few feet. Before Jericho could do anything else, Morrison came in for the save. He managed to connect with a small forearm hit, which grazed the side of Jericho's head. Usually, Morrison would be quick to follow up, but fatigue had really caught up to him. John's altered in-ring style blessed Jericho with enough time to push him back a few feet. Jericho, after doing so, turned back to the Miz. He took a step up to him, and grabbed him by the arm. He pulled The Miz in using his right arm, and then slammed his left arm against Michael's chest and neck, immediately dropping the youngest star in the ring. The short arm clothesline put the Miz right where Jericho believed he belonged; under him. "Don't you get it? I'm the best in the world at what I do, Mike! You'll never amount to anything worth my time! You gelatinous tapeworm! You're just like the rest. Like all of these parasitic drones hovering around in attendance. You're---" and that's when he was finally suppressed. Morrison, from Jericho's side, had rushed in and gave all that he had left, into one final clothesline, that caught Jericho by the side of the head, and slightly above the neck. The force or the blow, mixed in with the small amount of gained momentum, was more than enough to knock Jericho over the ring ropes, which were directly behind him. He was sent careening down to the protective mat that 27 other superstars had fallen upon. With his elimination, came a huge, glass shattering pop from the crowd.

From the outside, Jericho had risen to his feet, screaming and cursing at the stop of his lungs. He had tried to re-enter the ring, but the refs that were surrounding ringside were not going to allow another Shawn-like incident to take place. As Morrison stood by the ring ropes looking down at whom he had just eliminated, The Miz slowly started to position himself behind him. He had risen up rather quickly, not wanting to miss an open chance at winning the rumble. Morrison stood there; his body still. His mouth curled up into a pleasant smile. He had just eliminated one of the biggest stars that the WWE had to offer, much to the desire of the WWE universe. And as he stood there, he felt the one of the Miz's hands grab him by the tights, and the other grab him by the head. He quickly closed his opened hands around the ring ropes, for he knew what was coming next. Michael, using all that he had, pushed Morrison over the top rope, and quickly turned around after doing so, completely unaware on if John had reached the floor or not. He was already celebrating, screaming, and yelling out how he was the best and how he had just got the job done. But, what he didn't realize was how loud the fans were cheering. NOTHING the Miz would have done could have made them cheer so loud. They were cheering at the fact that the match was going to continue. They were up on their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs, because John had held on to the ring ropes.

He was there, dangling. Stuck in-between losing the match, and continuing. Jericho, whom was barely by the ring ramp, tried his very best to maneuver around the Referee's whom were escorting him backstage, so that he could grab John by his legs, and yank him off on to the ground. But, the men in stripes allowed him to do no such thing. John, from his hanging position, proceeded to lift his legs over his head and rotated his body back toward the ring, going over the top rope back into the squared circle, taking a page out of Shawn's book. The Miz, whom was completely unaware of the incident kept on with how awesome and great he was. But, seconds later it hit him. His music wasn't playing, nor had anyone bothered to announce him as the winner. That's when the voice in the back of his head told him to turn around. And like a good child, he obeyed, only to be met by the fist of his tag team partner. The shot jacked his jaw, and caused him to stumble back a few feet. John, whom couldn't believe he was actually doing this, kept on with the offense by throwing another hard right toward The Miz's face. The second shot had just grazed Michaels face, due to him taking a foot back. The grand Mizard, in a rage, retaliated with a fist of his own, which connected square in Morrison's face as soon as the Shaman took a small step in advancement. The hard shot temporarily stunned the A-lister, and The Miz decided to take full advantage of it. He took a hold of Morrison's left arm with his right, spun, and threw Morrison off toward the Ring ropes. He was hoping to get a rebound attack off, and was even bent over, but noticed a few seconds later that his partner had yet to come in his direction. He rose to full height and, without thinking, took a foot forward. As soon as he did, his eyes fell upon his partner whom was in the process of spring boarding off of the second rope.

The Miz froze at the very sight, for he knew what was coming. Morrison, upon bouncing off of the second rope, turned his body in the air and swung his right foot toward the Miz's face, hoping to take him down using the gained momentum of the ring ropes. The flying chuck kick indeed connected, lighting the arena up with a loud clap. Morrison's body hit the mat as soon as Michael's did, but unlike his partner, John rolled across the mat, riding the sheer impulse of the move he had hit. Now, he figured that the match was all his. All he had to do was pick the Miz up, and throw him over the ropes. He knew that the flying roundhouse had done enough damage to keep Michael out long enough for him to do just that. John had struggled up to his feet, and had looked down upon the man whom was still out cold. He slowly walked over to him, knelt down to grab a hold of his head, and as soon as he began to pull him up, felt an incredible pain. John's eyes had lit up, and his legs had caved in on him. He lost his breath, and had fallen down to his knees.

While he struggled to regain his lost air, John realized that he had been hit under the belt. A low blow, courtesy of the Miz. Both men were on their knees, But the Miz had used John's own body to rise completely to his feet. From there, he took a hold of John's long hair, and used it to pull him toward the nearest set of ring ropes.

"I told you once John…And I'll tell you again. You'll never be a top dog. Not while I'm still calling the shots in the pound," The Miz said as he attempted to bring Morrison to his feet by his own hair. Those very words echoed throughout the Guru's ears.

With John now up to a vertical base, the Miz had the opportunity to eliminate him. But, not before adding insult to what was sure to be a stinging injury.

"I'm better than you, John. Always have been…always will be" The Miz uttered as he tightened his grip around Morrison's roots.

John, upon hearing this, rose his fist and brought it along the side of Michael's face, crashing it against the taller man's temple. This loosened the grip around Morrison's hair, giving John a chance to free himself. After landing yet another shot in the same exact spot, Johnny found himself free from his partners grasp. The Californian stepped back, and decided to take advantage of a stunned Mizard. With Michael right next to the ring ropes, John jumped up and pushed both of his feet out toward his opponent's chest, connecting with the sole of both feet. As Michael went back, Morrison's body turned in the air, so that when he landed, it would be on his side or front. The Miz's body, carried by the impact of the dropkick, went tumbling over the ropes onto the ground below While John landed on his side. With the Miz eliminated, The crowd went wild. At that instant, they had forgotten all about how John had assisted Melina in retaining her title, they had forgotten about how many times he cheated to retain his tag team gold, how many times he bent the rules to pick up a victory. In that instant, he was a new-made star in their eyes.

As his theme blared throughout the PA System, John stayed in the position in which he had landed. He had did the impossible in his mind. He had WON the Royal Rumble. Not only was he heading to Wrestlemania, but he was going to headline it. He had fallen under the list of superstars whom he had considered to be the best. But, most importantly, he had realized his long awaited dream.

As the crowd and the commentators went wild, The Miz began to rise to his feet, shaking off the cobwebs upon rising to the full extent of his height. Now what in the hell had happened? He had the match won. He had his partner just where he had wanted him. But, it all backfired on him. All because of him being unable to keep his mouth closed. If he would have just followed everything up, then he would have been in john's position, instead of the position in which was shared by 28 others.

Michael stood there, head held high. He wasn't embarrassed or anything. Just disappointed that he couldn't get the job done. He had come so close, come so far, only for it all to be ripped out of his grasp. Now he had a choice. He could have went backstage to join all the other losers, or he could joined his partner in a celebration.

"…It's his time...not mine," Michael said to himself as he turned toward the ring ramp. The second he did, he caught glimpse of the Divas champion running toward him. He figured that she was there to console him, to help him deal with the fact that he had lost what was possibly the most important match of his life. But, he was wrong. She rushed right past him, not giving him the slightest look. She had slid into the ring to celebrate with the winner. But he should have seen that coming. There wasn't a single chick in the world that would be caught dead with a loser. And at that moment, that's exactly what he was.

Johnny had finally made it to his feet, and as soon as he did, Melina had lunged at him, taking him right back down to the mat. With a smile on his face, John welcomed the pain that it brought. Melina was overwhelmed with joy and so was he. This had to have been the second best day of his life, his first being the day in which he met the woman whom was screaming and shouting in his face. Though he couldn't exactly make out what she was saying, one statement that she had said in the past came to mind:

"That's right John, straight to the top."