Busy with various media responsibilities the week following Capitol Punishment, Mike finds himself distancing himself slightly from both Alex and Morrison. After months- almost a full year- of walking a thin tightrope, focusing on Money in the Bank and the various hoops the Anon GM threw up for him to jump through to even become world champion, just to lose the belt to Cena and all of the injuries and various other bad luck that followed that loss, it feels nice just to do focus on other things for a bit.
After a long day spent on a golf course, for charity, he's glad to collapse into bed and just take a minute to breathe in the cool, brisk air coming from the hotel's vent over his head. Eyes fluttering warningly, he rolls onto his stomach and mindlessly gropes for his phone. After pressing a few buttons carelessly, he squints at the bright screen.
5 missed calls; 1 unread message
A little more awake, he sighs and goes through the missed calls first. Between two calls probably from a newspaper attempting to confirm the date and time of their next interview, Alex's name flashes at him. He frowns at it before returning to the other missed attempts at contact; more media responsibility details await his response. He's about to call Alex back when he remembers the unread text message.
From: Morrison
In Singapore now. So many Lil Jimmys here- Truth would be having a conniption. Again. Speaking of, heard you had the 'privilege' of teaming with him again this week. Lucky you.
Miz rolls his eyes, pressing his face against the pillow briefly before turning his attention back to his phone.
To: Morrison
Yeah, well, I get the feeling the precious Anon GM is doing it mainly to annoy me but you should be pleased- at this rate, Truth will stay in good shape until your return.
Once the text is sent, he hits number 3 on his speed dials and waits as it rings in. It's not like I don't have enough of my own drama to contend with, he thinks with a grimace, tapping his fingers against the stiff pillow case.
Finally on the third ring, the phone clicks in. "Hello?"
"Hey," Mike responds, rolling onto his side so he can lay comfortably and not muffle his speech in the bedding. "Phone was off while I played golf so I missed your call. What's up?"
To Alex's credit, he doesn't even snicker quietly at the golf mention, used to the random things Mike tends to do for media coverage. "Oh, I went to the doctor earlier and he re-examined me. The swelling is going down and the bruise is starting to fade. He says I have to be careful for awhile but all in all, should be ok, with enough time."
Tilting the phone away from his face, Mike releases a relieved sigh, his eyes slipping closed as he listens to Alex breathe softly on the other end, waiting for a verbal response. "That's great, man. Has he...?"
"Yeah, he sent in his report to WWE; the Anon GM should be aware by now. I don't think the being careful thing should be too difficult, since he seems determined to use me against you... he probably wouldn't want to risk his advantage," he comments blandly.
Mike rolls his eyes, adjusting the pillow so it's positioned more evenly under his head. "This is true." They fall silent for a bit, Mike drifting slightly before Alex clears his throat. "Huh?"
Chuckling, his former protege hmms quietly. "You sound wiped. Guess golf took a lot out of you."
Oh, now the teasing begins, he thinks. "Guess so," he says sarcastically.
"Don't get grumpy," Alex laughs. "I'll talk to you later."
"Sure. See you Monday." Ending the call before Alex can respond, Mike slips into a deep sleep almost immediately, barely having a second to rethink his last words before falling completely into darkness. His phone barely makes a noise as it slips from limp fingers and hits the mattress next to him.
That Monday, Miz is unsurprised to hear that he's been put in another match against Alex- this time with Rey Mysterio and Jack Swagger as their tag partners, though at the moment it's open to change by the Roulette Wheel.
Text from: Alex
Did you hear they're announcing who's going to be in the Raw Money in the Bank a little later?
Text from: Miz
Yeah. No question who one of the competitors will be.
Text from: Alex
Thanks, that means a lot.
Text from: Miz
... I meant me.
Text from: Alex
... I knew that.
Text from: Miz
Sure you did. How's your arm?
Text from: Alex
Fine. Seriously, it looks a lot better. You'll see!
And see he does, his eyes immediately focusing on the younger man's upper arm, what of it is visible beneath his elbow pad. It looks mostly normal, the angry inflammation of the past week fading away to more normal shades of flesh. Despite its appearance, he knows injuries can be invisible and still very painful so the tag match now being a tornado match doesn't sit well with him. For this reason, he spends over half of the match working at keeping Swagger away, leaving him to deal with Rey while he takes care of Alex. Mindful of the Anon GM always watching, he makes sure not to pull any punches, even going so far as to throw Alex out of the ring and pacing around nearby, working at keeping him down.
"Mike!" Alex hisses, eye on the titantron as he makes sure the camera isn't aimed on either of them when the former world champion turns sharply and moves like he's about to kick him to keep him down a little longer as his tag partner is manhandled by the much larger Jack Swagger in the ring. "I'm fine. Stop trying to protect me."
"You sure?" he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth as he makes a show out of furthering the abuse, the audience in the front row jeering just over their heads as they stand up to see over the black barricade wall.
Alex nods, brushing some sweat out of his eyes as he lunges up and takes control, taking Miz down until he can get back into the ring to help Rey- not that he really cares about the Mexican, but he has to continue the act and spending the rest of the match down on the floor wouldn't do any of them any good. The match continues on, both teams alternating on who's in control until Alex and Mike's fight spills outside once more. Adrenaline and the pure competition that usually bleeds through each wrestler every time they walk into that ring fuels both men as their punches grow a little more rougher, movements a little more fluid and agile. In the end, Alex is the last man standing as he slams Mike into the barricade wall, taking him out of the equation long enough to run in and help Rey finish Swagger.
Once he begins walking back up the ramp, a celebrating Mysterio by his side and cheering fans echoing around him, he hesitates only briefly, a shadow crossing his face. Did I take it too far? Mike had only been looking out for him most of the match and his reward was being thrown into a wall viciously. Yes, their fights had been taken to that level in the past but it still doesn't stop him from feeling like crap afterwards.
After not seeing Mike for nearly half an hour, it seems the perfect time to approach him when the whole locker room is abuzz about Punk's shocking promo to end off the show, his back pressed against the cool tiles of the wall next to where Mike's sitting, digging around in his bag as the drama unfolds before them. "You ok?" he asks quietly, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches their fellow competitors alternating between gossiping, some with surprised looks remaining on their faces as they listen for any further news from those brave enough to venture out of the locker room.
"Course," Mike mumbles, not glancing up from his clothes. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Just making sure, you hit kinda hard."
He pauses momentarily, glancing around at the crowd surrounding them before shaking his head. "I've had worse," he shrugs it off. "Don't worry about it. Just consider it practice for Money in the Bank..."
"Ok." Alex turns his attention back to the gossiping group before them and smirks mirthlessly. "That was some rant from Punk, huh?"
"Yeah, well, he was just saying what some of us think, I'm sure." He looks up briefly, his eyes glinting. "What would you say if I said I was going to do what Punk did for MitB? Two years in a row?"
Alex laughs, shrugs. "I guess you'd have to get through me first."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah."
Mike snorts slightly, replacing the things in his bag and straightens up. He's been around me for too long. "Whatever you say, then. Good luck with that, Alex." Determination to not lose against Alex again wars with respect for the competitor his former NXT rookie has grown into, will continue to become with some care.
His thoughts are derailed as a strained, abrupt hush takes over the locker room, all eyes on the outside hallway as CM Punk, finally freed from the meeting he had been forced into following the abrupt ending to Raw, storms past people and equipment alike, uncaring as he's all but escorted from the building, security not even able to touch him.
It isn't long before the news breaks that he's been suspended, a fresh wave of gossip and shocked whispers filling up the backstage area even as people prepare to leave for the next event. Alex glances over at Mike, an amused look in his eyes. "I love this business."
Chuckling, Miz nods. "Me too."