For show, Miz has convinced Alex to not be at the arena tonight. He hasn't worked out every factor yet but his protege will be an ace up his sleeve eventually, once he's ready to rub it in the face of the Email GM and everyone else that he's found a way around his apprentice's needless firing. So while Alex is enjoying the impromptu vacation, soaking up the balmy weather in Florida, Miz is stuck too north for his tastes, trying not to freeze as he pokes around Twitter. The reaction after his announcement that he's going to boycott Raw serves to amuse him for awhile, more so as he reads it from the free wifi provided by the arena.
After awhile he sighs and pushes the laptop away, only half caring as it teeters on the edge of the flimsy table. The room is almost too quiet- a perfect hide away in one of the many abandoned corners of the arena, suits his needs perfectly... but yeah, still kinda creepy. Almost like something he'd expect the Undertaker to hide in.
If he listens hard enough, he can somewhat hear the nearest monitor. It's a way to pass the time until he hears Cena's obnoxious music vibrating through the arena, stuck in this dark room listening as Raw passes him by. He overhears various wrestlers and divas laughing and whispering as Cole's attempt to announce JBL as his referee fails thanks to Stone Cold Steve Austin. He sighs in exasperation before leaning against the door, raking a hand through his short hair. His mind wanders a bit as the next match, Sheamus vs Daniel Bryan, begins, a pleased smirk spreading across his lips as he remembers beating down the wanna-be last week.
Sheamus loses by count out and Miz peeks out of the door carefully, able to just see the monitor as the Irishman starts ranting about how his bad luck as of late and how if he doesn't win his match the following week, he'll quit. This must be something in the air, Miz thinks blandly, guilt welling up within him as he thinks about how callously he caused Alex his job just seven days ago. Before Sheamus can say anything else, the GM email alert goes off, Miz stiffening at the mere sound of it.
Since Cole is off complaining to whomever will listen, Jerry takes over reading the email. "The anonymous GM says since Miz is too good to show his face tonight, he's taking it upon himself to make the following match- Miz vs Sheamus for the US title next week. If Sheamus loses, he's fired immediately."
Miz pales.
Despite the announcement distracting him, his plan later in the show goes off without a hitch- he beats Cena down again and relishes every second of it. It's not until he returns to the back that the reality of what the following week will bring him starts to seep in.
"I think you need to look up what boycotting means," Morrison's voice cuts into his thoughts as he marches back to the dark, empty little room that he had dropped his things in before rushing out to deal with Cena. "This... just isn't it."
"Shut up, Morrison." Despite not seeing the man for almost two weeks, it's like muscle memory- as soon as Miz hears his voice, he tenses up and prepares himself for the usual caustic barbs they almost always exchange.
"Gee, for someone who just laid out John Cena, you're not sounding too thrilled. Missing Alex, are we?"
Mike closes his eyes as he pulls out his duffel bag and the US title drops off of the top of it. No attention had been paid to the belt for so long, he had stopped bringing it out with him. It had been the building block of his single career, what had caused him to believe he could win the WWE title with enough time and hard work. Now he's in risk of losing it and it leaves him empty- he's seen what Sheamus can do, especially considering his long history with the man standing next to him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little worried.
"Do you want some advice?"
"No," he mumbles, not looking even as John peers over his shoulder at the impeccably gleaming title belt.
"Take it easy," he insists. "Of course the US belt means a lot to you but Wrestlemania is right around the corner. I know how wrestling Sheamus can be- you'll go out feeling fine and return looking and walking like you've been in a car accident." He subconsciously stretches his knee out as if just the memory is enough to make the pain and stiffness return.
Miz sighs. "I'll take that under advisement," he mumbles half-sarcastically, not willing to show Morrison how much his suggestion really means to the WWE champion.