A/N: I wasn't really feeling this chapter. It hasn't been a great week. I hope it's not too horrible, and I'll try to make up for it with the next chapter!
Text from: Alex
You know this probably means the Anon GM will make us wrestle at the pay per view or something.
Text from: Mike
Obviously. We'll deal with that when the time comes. Just focus on tonight for now.
Distracted with texting with one hand and maneuvering his duffel bag through the crowded hallways with the other, Miz fails to notice as eyes track his progress, watching all the closer when he walks past Alex Riley, the two barely sparing glances for each other even as they remain glued to their individual cell phones.
Jittery from a week of waiting for the next shoe to drop between media events, Mike isn't really in the mood to wait around for something to happen so, after watching Truth in his stupid outfit angers him to the point that he wants to throw something, or break someone, he quickly makes his way to the ring, pleased to be able to interrupt the deranged man's ramblings (how exactly the usually quick tempered Austin went that whole period of time without shutting Truth up is something Miz will never understand). The anon GM's previous decree- that he couldn't touch Truth or lose his title opportunity- remains in the back of his mind as he all but demands another chance at the title, carefully choosing his words as he blames his losses against Cena on Alex, giving it his all in keeping the act up.
It's no surprise when Alex takes the hint and comes out, interrupting Mike intensely.
At least it means we don't have to hear Truth, Miz is thinking when Cena's music interrupts everything, his blue eyes trailing along all of the people in the ring from the top of the ramp. Mike closes his eyes, his fist clenching against his side as he watches the WWE champion near the ring, his title looking tarnished somehow from its unfortunate place on Cena's waist. Wait, wait, I take it back, I'd rather hear Truth!
It takes everything in him to not look over at Alex, uncertain where cameras are aiming or if the GM is watching, when Cena shows doubt about Alex's loyalties- Really? Really?- but Alex has learned from the best and he doesn't flinch, even when the Anon GM tries to interrupt them. At first relief spreads through Mike as Vince McMahon himself cuts the Raw GM off, but his decision is probably exactly what the email would've said anyway: a tag match with Mike and Truth vs Cena and Alex. As if that's not bad enough, Austin is thrown in as special guest referee.
After leaving the ring, Mike wanders the hallways for awhile, quickly growing tired of ignoring hateful or curious glances by people uncertain of what's going on with him and Alex. He sighs and walks purposely for the exit, needing some fresh air. He breathes in the heavy, warm air and sighs, enjoying it unlike most people in Virginia wishing for cooler temperatures. He'd grown a massive hatred for winter and anything even a little too close to cold since moving to California from Ohio, so he was enjoying the almost stifling blanket of warmth surrounding him.
He's only been out there a few minutes when his phone vibrates to announce a new text.
Text from: Alex
Can we talk?
Text from: Mike
Not at the arena, too risky. Can you text it?
Text from: Alex
Just- why do you think Cena is now all of a sudden suspicious? This whole thing's been believable, don't you think?
Mike dwells on this for a moment, grimacing as he presses against the mostly healed marks along his side from the original attack. Recalls pouring repeatedly over the footage the last few weeks, watching closely for any break in the act, however minuscule. There had been absolutely no visible sign that any of it was feigned; someone would have to be a mind reader to know that things were fine between the former mentor and protege. Or have some way to track the text and call logs on their phones- but that's not possible... right? He glances down at his phone and rolls his eyes at himself. Ok, now I'm just getting paranoid.
Text from: Mike
Of course we have been. Cena's just a drama queen. Do what you have to tonight, and I'll do the same. It'll work out.
When Alex doesn't respond, he sighs, tightening his grip on his phone as he leans against the building, looking moodily out at the steadily descending twilight. After months of Alex always being around, the quiet and solitude broken apart by his voice and presense, he's still getting used to being alone once more. Between his time with the Extreme Expose, then tag teaming with Morrison, Big Show, Chris Jericho, along with mentoring Daniel Bryan- ha, what a joke that was- and Alex himself, he hadn't really ever been on his own for very long in his career. With Morrison off in LA rehabbing his injury, his options are even more limited.
Morrison, he thinks, eyes lighting up slightly as an idea comes to him. Marching over to where his rental car sits in the middle of the parking lot, he holds his phone back up, pressing the fifth number on his speed dial. By the fourth ring, his hope is starting to fade and the generic voice mail message telling him to leave a message at the beep disgusts him further, his cell phone protesting as he presses the end button harshly. He's breathing heavily through his nose, trying to convince himself that throwing the device out of his car window into the gloom wouldn't be the wisest of ideas, when it vibrates right in his hand and he almost drops it anyway. Crap! he thinks, barely collecting himself in time to peer at the screen. He rolls his eyes at the name flashing there before answering it. "Where were you?"
"I was doing strength testing," Morrison's equally aggravated voice greets him.
His anger fading away a bit at the obvious unhappiness in John's voice, he takes a deep breath. "How's it going?"
"The same," his former tag team partner all but snaps, agitated.
"Oh." Unsure what to say now, Mike is about to think up some cheap excuse and hang up, thumping his forehead guiltily over the bad timing of it all, when John speaks over him.
"What did you want?"
"Nah, if this isn't a good time, I'll just hang up," he says awkwardly, not wanting to add onto Morrison's issues by dumping his own on him. "It's nothing important, I can handle it myself."
There's a pause, Morrison moving around and breathing softly against the phone all Miz can hear for a few seconds until finally he speaks again. "Just tell me what you called for, Mike."
Despite how relatively calmer he now sounds, Miz still hesitates, uncomfortable with the situation. I should've found the time to explain to him what was going on before this, but things were moving so fast, and all the media crap this past week... He bites his lip, rolling his head against the headrest behind him. But I guess I really just didn't want to tell him because he's stuck on the injured list, unable to do anything anyway. Why make it worse on him?
Finally he sighs into the phone and mumbles, "Ok. Fine." Once more wording things carefully, he cranes his neck, watching thick clouds stained purple and red as the sunset reflects off of them drifting overhead while attempting to explain his dilemma. "I didn't go into details but when Alex first attacked me, it wasn't everything it appeared to be." Losing interest in nature, he peers around the parking lot, making sure no one's nearby just in case. "After the pay per view, he decided he wanted to try singles competition over on Smackdown..." Mike sighs slightly, going further into detail with the story, explaining how the Anon GM had ruined their carefully orchestrated plans.
"I swear, this crap can only happen to you," John says after a bit, sounding almost humored when Mike pauses to take a breath. "What happened next?"
"Well, are you watching Raw?"
"Kind of," he mumbles, a little of the bitterness returning to his tone.
Mike swallows, feeling bad once more to rub John's face in all of this when he's stuck on the sidelines, unable to do anything but watch. He remembers the few weeks he's missed here and there, and how hard it is to not be able to compete. Between the competition and the crowd reaction, adrenaline rushes they all get, it's almost an addiction of its own. To not be able to compete for any extended period of time is just an horrible sensation all around. "So now, because of what Cena said, Alex is worried that we've not been completely believable." There's a long pause and Miz shifts in the driver's seat, checking the clock. Not even 9:45 yet, I should be fine out here for awhile yet... I think.
"Well," Morrison hedges, drawing out the word.
"Ok, now you're just being annoying," Mike huffs, rethinking his decision to ask John about this. His lips twitch slightly when John actually chuckles, sounding much lighter than he did at the start of the conversation.
"Look, seriously, man. I had no clue until you said something. I honestly thought Alex had had enough of your ridiculous ego," he teases. "There's only so much of that one guy can take, trust me-"
Rolling his eyes, Miz grumbles, "Are you done? I'm regretting calling you now."
Honestly laughing now, John returns to the original reason for the call. "Yeah, I think I'm done. But seriously man, Cena is probably just being paranoid. He doesn't have a good track record with former NXT rookies, or tag partners, for that record, after all. Long as neither of you ruin this little act you've got going on, he shouldn't continue being suspicious."
Somewhat mollified, Mike leans back against the car seat, releasing a deep breath. "Thanks, that's what I wanted to hear."
"Sure. So you're tagging with Truth tonight, huh?" he asks blandly.
"Yeah. It's far from what I'd like to do though," he mumbles, picking some lint off of the steering wheel. "But I know," he continues before Morrison can say anything. "You want him first. Which is fine, better you take care of him than me. I'm too busy trying to keep ahead of the Anon GM anyway. Who knows what he'd do if he thought I was trying to sabotage his main event."
There's a brief pause before Morrison hums thoughtfully into the phone. "They just announced the Raw GM made you and Riley at the ppv official," he says, sounding as unsurprised as Miz feels. "Well, he wouldn't make the match if he thought it was a farce... right?"
"Unless he was testing us," Mike murmurs. "But yeah, we figured he would throw us in a match at the ppv. Anyway, I should get going. Who knows what fun I'm missing out on."
"Truth crashing the Presidential press conference about Capitol Punishment?"
Mike pauses, gazing ahead blankly. "Wait, what?"
"... I don't even know, man. He's going on about a boat. Yeah, uh, have fun tagging with him tonight."
"... I'm so screwed. Ugh. Bye."
"Talk to you later," John says, failing at keeping the laughter out of his voice.
Miz releases a grumbling kind of sigh, pulling himself out of the car and walking through the dusky darkness towards the building. I don't want to lose against Cena again but with a partner like Truth...
After watching Cena and A-Ri argue a bit over where Alex's priorities lie, Miz decides to at least try to talk to R Truth, see where the man's head may be at so he's prepared to be in the ring with him. Despite their various tensions in the past, Truth seems to be listening to him as he lectures him about how to defeat Cena and A-Ri- Who would've thought I'd ever be having this conversation?- but for all he knows, the thoughtful, deeply concentrating look on Truth's face more has to do with listening to the Little Jimmys or whomever it is talking to him in his own head. Mid-way through his speech, he glances over in time to see a camera aimed on them, obviously filming them. Good thing I kept my focus on the match. If I had been yelling at him over Morrison or anything else, that might not have been good,he thinks, acutely aware that the Anon GM is obviously keeping an eye out for any weaknesses, if the A-Ri thing is any indication.
Well, here we go, he thinks a little later when they're waiting for their individual cues into the ring. Considering all of the disasterous potential it has, the match doesn't go too horribly. Even when Truth freaks out and grabs a steel chair, disrupting the match further, Miz keeps calm, despite Austin making it clear that if they cheated at all, bad things would happen. His composure slips just a bit when Alex brings in, of all things, the briefcase that he had given him. Oh, I taught him well,he just manages to think before Alex slams the case into him. In the madness that ensues, he's not sure how it happens but Austin is suddenly in his face, hitting a bone rattling stunner. The next thing he knows is Cena's music is playing and he's lost- again.
Unsure where Truth's gone- and not entirely caring- he stumbles up the ramp, barely registering the sound of the Anon GM's alert echoing through the arena. He does, however, pause for a moment when the GM announces that since the referee was improperly involved, Cena and A-Ri are officially DQ'd and the match goes to him and Truth. The "win" is empty, especially considering how it came about, so he doesn't delay in leaving the ringside area. He does, however, pause briefly when the GM emails again to say that Austin will be temporary GM next week, his eyes widening slightly. Free of the Anon GM's control? If only for a week... but who knows that Austin will be any better...
A couple hours later, he's walking up to his hotel room, trying to ignore the fresh aches from the briefcase shot- not that he blames Alex; if he had the opportunity, he would've done the same thing. Besides, it makes their "feud" look all that more believable- when his phone rings. Knowing it could be only one of two people, he quickly unlocks the hotel room and enters, dropping his duffel and key card onto the floor while simultaneously dragging the phone out of his pocket. "Hello?"
"Hey."
He sinks into the dark beige couch across from his bed, lips twitching as he takes a deep breath, shaking his head with a slight smirk. Alex. "Where are you at?"
"In my hotel room. You?"
"The same. What's up?" He cringes at his choice of words, the term effectively ruined by his hopefully one-time-only tag partner from earlier that evening.
"What do you think about what the Anon GM did tonight? Why reverse the decision and give the win to you, after all of this? It's not making any sense," he wonders, sounding uncertain and a little worried.
Mike leans back, toeing off his shoes as he thinks it over. "Maybe he's just trying to motivate you before our ppv match. Who knows. If Truth hadn't brought that steel chair in, things wouldn't have gotten so ridiculous so quickly." He shakes his head. "What I did to get stuck with him as my tag partner, I don't even want to know..."
"I wonder who's more annoying, Cena or Truth?"
"Well, one won't shut up about Little Jimmys and conspiracies... the other won't stop with the Hustle Loyalty Respect and Cenation crap... Seriously, have you seen his tweets? I swear, he mentions both things at least once in each and every tweet he makes." He shudders. "Maybe it's even?"
"Yeah, think so." They fall quiet, Mike pondering what could happen with Austin as GM next week, when Alex chuckles slightly. "Do you think Truth lost it because he's just seen one too many Jimmy John commercials? The damn things are all over the place."
Miz's lips twitch upwards, relieved to be distracted however briefly from his serious thoughts. "You may be onto something there. Maybe his problem is he sees all of these commercials but never gets a sub."
"That is kinda sad when you think about it."
Mike does laugh now. "Yeah, it is."
The silence that follows this time seems more subdued, Alex's breathing the only sign that he's still on the other line. Finally he sighs and asks, "Do you think I'll ever get over to Smackdown?"
Mike grimaces, slumping a bit as he ponders the question. All this time I've been worried about what the Raw GM would do next, or being careful about bothering Morrison. I hadn't really thought about Alex's being made to do this crap against his own will. Damn Raw GM... His eyes gleaming with steely determination even in the muted light of one small lamp off to the side of his room, he nods, "I'll make sure you do. Just don't worry about it. It'll work out. I promise." He feels like he's told Alex not to worry a lot since this whole nonsense began, but a promise is something he's never made lightly, if at all, so he hopes that it's enough to ease his protege's worries.