Despite how exhausted he is, the reveal that Hornswoggle is, was, the Anonymous GM eats at him and he stays awake, going over the year+ that Hornswoggle had apparently spent making his life hell. It makes no sense whatsoever and he wonders if perhaps Hornswoggle was the scapegoat for someone else. There are a lot of unsolved mysteries in this business, and his best guess is that this will just be another one. So I get to remain uncertain about who the Anon GM may really be, if I'm walking by him in the hallways, sitting across from him in the cafeteria, for the rest of my career... He picks at the bedding pooling around his legs as he stares blankly at the dark TV.
It's something after 11 PM, and he can imagine that Alex at the least is still awake, the after-event jitters never really leaving any of them until hours later. Possibly even pondering the same thing he is. Morrison is a little more likely to be in bed, probably even unaware of what's going on, but he decides to take a chance anyway. He dials and waits, listens to it ringing and, losing his nerve, considers hanging up but it's answered on the third ring. "Hello?"
His lips twitch into a smile as he takes in John's sleepy voice, feeling a little guilty. "Hey, did I wake you up? Sorry."
There's a pause and the sound of things shuffling around on the other end, some typing, and more shifting. "No," John finally says. "You have good timing, I'm trying to finish editing a parkour video before ComiCon and I was about to doze off in my chair."
"Tedious job, making yourself look better than you really are, huh?" he teases, smirking as Morrison mock laughs at him.
"So what's up, man?" As he talks, there's more typing and, at times, what sounds like John smacking the keyboard in frustration.
"Geez, do you need Ryder to come give you editing suggestions?" At Morrison's mumbled Aw shut up, he shrugs and turns serious. "Did you hear about Raw?"
"Uh, I heard something about Hornswoggle but didn't really get all of the details. What's with that?"
"It was revealed tonight that he was the Anon GM." The silence grows so heavy, even the typing coming to an abrupt stop, that both men could've heard a pin drop.
"Say what?" he finally asks, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor punctuating his question. Miz sits for a minute, imagining him pacing back and forth, forcing his hair back from his face as he wanders over to a window and peers out at the LA beach visible from his apartment. He misses LA right now, having the opportunity to see Morrison face to face for this conversation, letting it all out about how stupid life can be sometimes. "Do you believe it?"
"I'm not sure. Do I believe he could've masterminded everything that we were all put through that year? Not really." He bites his lip, tilting his head. "Do you think a little evil genius lurks behind all that... green?"
Morrison shrugs. "Well, he is Fit Finlay's son. But I don't really know. Do you think it's really someone else and 'Swoggle's just going along with this for whatever reason?"
"It's possible. I'm just not sure how we're supposed to believe that Hornswoggle thought up all the crap we'd been put through while the Anon GM was in charge."
"I'm not sure, man. But he's been a non-issue for a year, right? I'd be more concerned about who the new GM is going to be after next week." There's a pause as Miz considers this. "You're returning soon, right?"
"Yeah, the filming is winding down. It's been fun but I'll be glad when things return to normal."
Morrison chuckles warmly, remembering how it had felt to finally return to WWE after being laid up for months due to his neck issues. His eyes soften sadly as he picks at his keyboard once more. "Wore out your welcome in Canada, huh?"
"Oh please," Mike volleys back. "They loved me so much, they'd do almost anything to get me to stay..." He smiles as Morrison laughs at him. "Unfortunately for them, LA is home."
"That it is," John agrees softly.
Filming somehow just clicks the day, they get everything done and on Tuesday night, finally, finally they're told those amazing three words: "That's a wrap!" Mike hangs around for awhile, celebrating with the cast and crew until midnight, when he has to leave to pack. He has a redeye back to LA that he'd booked as soon as the filming had completed and doesn't want to miss it.
Exhausted beyond words and comforted at the thought that he's on his way home, he spends the flight sleeping and when he arrives in LA, it looks so bright and welcoming that it almost blinds him. Despite being an Ohio native, LA had been his home for so long that coming back always makes him feel calm, centered. A quick taxi ride later and he's at his house, quickly sorting through things that had been unattended since he'd left for Canada. He's barely inside for an hour before he's back out, too anxious and restless to stay in one place for very long.
All but diving inside his car, he sits behind the wheel and stares out through the windshield for a moment. A smirk grows across his face as he jingles his keys, before pushing them into the ignition and starting the car up, eyes lighting up as he drives away from his house and through the busy California streets. Even traffic couldn't kill his good mood as he stares at the bright blue ocean, gleaming in the sunlight. "Well, I know what this kind of day is good for," he hums out loud.
He's at Morrison's place within minutes, leaning against the doorway as he knocks repetitively against the wood, not even stopping when he hears footsteps rushing towards him.
Upon answering the door with his mouth open like he's about to yell at whoever's being ridiculous, John's look of annoyance only fades slightly when he realizes that it's Miz. "Oh, you're back," he says, shaking his head. "I'm your first visit? I'm honored." He grins when Mike raises an eyebrow at him.
"Get shoes on, we're leaving."
"What? Where are we going?" He follows the command anyway, also grabbing his phone and wallet before joining Mike in the hallway. His former tag partner pushes the door shut behind them before grabbing John by the shoulder and urging him down the hallway. "Am I being held captive?"
"We're going to the beach," Mike says in a pure duh voice, ignoring John's comments. "I've missed LA so much, I can't even tell you." There had been some ridiculously lengthy international tours with WWE in the past, sure, but none had equaled two months away in one stretch, ever, and he feels like a giddy little kid for having a few days home before he has to make a decision about his participation in Money in the Bank.
John loves the beach so he has no problems with that, content to trek around in the sand and rocks, watching as Mike kicks around the edge of the water, enjoying the soft breeze and gentle warmth. They don't talk a lot, each other's presence enough, but when John drops onto the sand and crosses his arms along his knees, staring out at the surf, Mike joins a few minutes later, nudging him with a wide grin. "Welcome back, man."
"Thanks." He falls back against the sand, closing his eyes. "It's good to be back." When Morrison settles down next to him, he sighs, feeling warm and content and just whole again. As fun as filming the movie'd been, he's back home now and will be wrestling again soon... It'll be good to return to being Miz. No, actually, it'll be awesome. Turning onto his side so he can look at his best friend better, he takes him in fully for the first time since returning. They hadn't seen each other face to face since the improv show, and webcams only show so much. He can see now that John looks better, more settled. Maybe this time has been good for him too... "I've heard you've been keeping busy." Lame conversation starter, but hey.
John smirks, peeking at him through his sunglasses. "Yeah, you could say that." He grins. "I'm going to Comicon this weekend. I guess some of the guys are going to be there."
"You're going to confuse a lot of avid Z!TLIS people," Mike points out, rolling his eyes when John's grin only grows. "Ryder's going to be there, isn't he?"
"Yep. I'm tempted to crash Z!TLIS filming." He laughs. "You should come, it'll be a blast."
Mike considers it for a split second before looking around. "Nah. I'm good here, I think. I wouldn't want to take the attention from you anyway."
"As if you could, man," he huffs, sitting up enough to pour some sand in Mike's hair. "Seriously, what did you do to your hair?" He laughs when Miz jerks up, looking scandalized while brushing it out.
"It looks awesome!" he snaps, shaking his head to get the last bits of sand out. "You're just jealous because, as always, I look better than you."
Morrison laughs. "Whatever you say, man." He barely responds as Mike glares at him, dropping back into the sand with a soft sigh.
Anger fading away like the tide, Mike grumbles and lays back as well, listening to the waves lap against the shore soothingly. "Jackass."
"It isn't nice to call yourself names."
"Ugh, I hate you."
"You keep saying that, but it never ends up being true." There's a lengthy pause before Mike snickers, which leads into them both chuckling. It had been much too long since they'd properly hung out like this, and it surprises them both just how much they'd missed it.
Mike spends the next few days playing- and losing, as always- at golf, going to concerts, and just partying like a movie star should. By Saturday, though, he's back to business. The trip to Money in the Bank feels like it takes forever and passes by in the blink of an eye all at once. He finds his rental car and slips inside, closing his eyes as the familiar feeling of pre-PPV madness envelopes him. The others are probably already here, some traveling from ComiCon, and others just getting a jumpstart of feeling out the surroundings.
It's surprisingly helpful to feel at home in the city you're competing in, even if it's only for a night, so he drives around for a bit, takes in the sights and sounds. When he arrives at the hotel, there's a group of fans out, as always, so he wades through, signs autographs, even takes a couple of pictures, before finally making it through to the desk. While waiting to receive the keycard, he's unsurprised when the man tells him that Alex has arrived already.
So busy just absorbing California and all it has to offer once more, he'd barely had time to tweet- except for the Q&A sessions he'd had during the concert- much less talk on the phone with anyone, so he hasn't talked to Alex since his return to America. He feels a little bad about that, but knows that the kid will probably barely blink an eye at it, used to Mike's busy schedule. Upon finding the right hotel door, he knocks once before letting himself inside, dropping his bag right inside the door: somehow he senses what's coming.
Sure enough, Alex is standing across the room next to the TV, a growing grin on his face. "Mike! You're back."
"Yeah," he just manages to say before Alex is on him, arms wrapped snugly around his midsection. He chuckles and hugs him back, glad that in the weeks that had passed, whatever tension had been between them seems to have been all but forgotten by the younger man. "So how have you been?" he wonders, pulling back enough to see him.
Alex shrugs, forcing a smile. "Oh you know, hanging in there." It hadn't really been a great couple of months for him, Mike knows this, losing more and more and getting beat up by Big Show... he feels for him, he really does. At least Laurinaitis is gone, he hopes it'll be a fresh start for a lot of them, especially with Raw moving to three hours soon. "I'm really glad you're here, though. I wasn't sure if you were gonna bother showing up for this thing until you emailed me."
"Yeah, I considered waiting but then figured... if anyone could screw up Cena's plans it should be me, right?" He smirks, joining Alex on the couch. "I can't believe after all his bitching and moaning that he wants to win the briefcase. What a joke. He's going to totally ruin that match for everyone."
Alex says nothing for a minute, unable to completely railroad Cena since he had been the one to take Big Show down and get Laurinaitis fired a few weeks ago. "Well, winning the briefcase your first night back from filming would be pretty damn sweet, Mike. By the way, how was filming? I wanna know everything."
He relaxes back against the couch, pleased to be back here, able to talk for hours with Alex- and John too, the time on the beach lasting longer than it had taken the sun to set- without having to stare at a computer screen.
The next night, Mike waits to make his announcement until the Smackdown money in the bank match ends, and Ziggler stops wasting valuable time with his showoff crap that he could have spent talking. He makes the announcement that he will be in the Money in the Bank match, thereby bringing it up to five competitors. Reveling in the moment, he returns to the back. It had been a year ago that he had been a fingertip away from winning for the second year in a row, until he had almost blown his knee out thanks to Alberto Del Rio, who would eventually go on to take the briefcase. He vows this year to keep Cena from leaving with the briefcase, to get his career back on track in one night by leaving with it himself. He wonders what it would be like to hold onto the case without the Anon GM on his ass, ruining it with ridiculous shenanigans and rules.
Unfortunately, this isn't his year- all five of them take ridiculous chances, risking injury and shortening of their careers, but in the end, of course, it ends up Big Show and Cena on the ladder and... the briefcase handle snaps. In Cena's grip. Meaning he wins the briefcase. Miz curses and refuses to believe it but all the denial in the world wouldn't stop it- on some fluke Cena is walking out with the chance to cash in at any time for the briefcase. Though he'll probably be too much of a boyscout to use it properly, which only angers Mike even more.
Alex is waiting, a sympathetic look on his face, when he returns to the locker room, sore and angry. "Sorry, Mike," he says quietly.
"Cena, Cena, Cena," he mumbles angrily. "Why doesn't anyone ever try to stop him!" Alex shrugs helplessly, ducking out of the way as Mike throws his wrist tape roll at the wall.
The next day does nothing to stop Mike's anger, the whole locker room abuzz- not about his return, no of course not- all they can talk about is Cena's big Tout- and seriously, what the hell is a Tout and why does it matter?- saying that he's going to make an announcement on Raw.
Miz can guess what it's going to be before it even happens but everyone else acts like it's going to be the biggest thing all year. He scoffs, heading down the hallway, hands digging into his slacks pockets. He had been up early, doing media, and here he is, yet again, without a match on Raw. Some things never change. Except that Eve stops him a few minutes later, suggesting he be her tag partner for the evening. He doesn't care for her, all of the times that she'd been content to insult him fresh in his mind, but he agrees quickly, just relieved to have something to do.
In the past, he had never really paid much attention to AJ Lee. All he knew really was she was tiny, brunette... and a little bit low on the sanity spectrum. Ok, make that a lot low. It's a match against his former NXT protege and he's confident enough except that AJ and Daniel are clicking surprisingly well tonight and then- well. She dropkicks him and even though it has the impact of a feather against his back, it surprises him more than anything and he drops to the floor. Upon turning around, he locks eyes with her and holy crap for a minute, he loses himself in her expression. She's smiling at him like he's the only man in the world and, dammit, he feels himself smiling too. What is this girl doing?He barely notices as Eve takes the opportunity, rolling AJ up, but the ref starts yelling at him to get back on the apron. He tries telling the ref to count the damn pin already, still dazed from that weird thing with AJ, and he doesn't realize when it's reversed until he's back up, holding onto the tag rope just to realize- ah hell that's not Eve on top, and- before he can dive through the ropes, AJ gets the three count.
He drops to the ground, glaring inside as he realizes what exactly the smirk on Daniel's face as he looks over at Mike means. God, I hate that guy, he steams. He stomps to the back as Daniel asks her to marry him again, feeling weird as she accepts. I thought we really had something back there. Wait, what the fu- where did that come from?
Alex is waiting for him, a grin on his face. Before he can warn him not to say anything, the younger man's already half way through talking. "Soooo Mike... You dig crazy chicks now too?"
"Argh!"
Of course Cena interrupts Punk vs Big Show. Of course he announces that he'll be cashing in Money in the Bank for a title shot on Raw's #1000 episode. Of course Miz fights not to fall asleep midway through the announcement.
"And here we go again," he mumbles, throwing his bag into the car. "Do you think there'll ever be a whole year where John isn't after the WWE title?"
Alex shrugs. He's so far down the card now that it doesn't really bother or effect him, but he can see why Mike gets twitchy about it all, still desperate for another chance at the gold. "Not for awhile, I guess."
"I hope he loses next week," Miz mumbles. "Cena being the first to fail at a Money in the Bank cash in. How appropo."