Sonar- Yeah, I saw those tweets too but by the time I got online later that night, he had deleted them and it was never mentioned on WWE TV so I opted not to include it. Thanks!
Pictures of Del Rio's back following that attack circulate all around the Internet the next few days, not that Mike needs to look, that visual still disturbingly fresh in his mind. It'd been a brutal attack, but thankfully Alberto doesn't seem to be blaming Ricardo for what had happened, the match possibly having a much different outcome if the younger man had listened to his employer and stayed in the back, safe.
That Wednesday, Mike is placed in a two-on-one match against both members of Primetime Players on Main Event. Although it makes little sense to him, this close to Wrestlemania, he doesn't question it. Just claps Alex on the shoulder and goes out to compete. It's a challenge, he won't lie, both men decent competitors alone and together, nearly a flawless team, but he holds his own through a struggle and eventually succeeds at defeating them, breathing heavily as he turns his glares onto Barrett, who's been doing commentary through his match, and his focus towards the weekend ahead. Axxess, the Hall of Fame, and Wrestlemania itself, his Intercontinental Title opportunity waiting for him at the tail end of it all.
But those aren't his only plans, as something else is happening this week. Many smaller federations piggyback off of the awareness that Wrestlemania brings to wrestling as a whole, considering the thousands of people who come from other nations just to be apart of all of this, and give even indys more attention. One of which had booked John Morrison months back, the first chance Mike or Alex will have to see him compete live since he'd been released from WWE back in 2011. When they arrive at New Jersey and receive their Axxess schedules, both sigh in relief- they have just enough free time on Thursday and Friday to go see the matches.
Mike smirks as he presses a ballcap over Alex's eyes, blinding him momentarily as he flails and swats at his mentor. "Dammit, Mike!" he grouses once he can see again, paying him back by gripping his hoodie and stretching it out, covering his face with it, holding it in place until Mike slaps him in the chest. Once freed, he snarls at the younger man and smooths his hair out, rolling his eyes. "What?" Alex laughs, sticking his tongue out at him. "You said we should cover our appearances as much as we can so fans don't harass us while we're at this PWS thing, I was just trying to help you out."
Mike rolls his eyes and checks himself in the small hotel mirror once more. "Well, I think this is the best it's going to get," he decides, peering back at his unimpressive reflection- plain jeans, the hoodie covering a non-logo black shirt. It's not great, but it'll do, he hopes. Likewise, Alex is dressed also as discretely as possible, dark denim jeans and a pale grey shirt, with the ballcap. He's less in the public eye as Mike, especially in the last few months, so he doesn't feel as desperate to hide his identity, certain he'll blend in with everyone else, but he knows it doesn't hurt to be cautious.
Thankfully it seems to work, everyone too focused on the action in the ring to observe the two men hanging around in the middle of the area designated for seats, watching the matches quietly until Morrison's bout against Elijah Burke begins- to Mike and Alex's shock, he comes out to Ain't No Make Believe, the nostalgia eating at them both as they watch on silently, struck dumb by the varied memories dogging both men. Mike begins smirking at the somewhat New ECW reunion this is turning out to be, but he's blatantly in John's corner, cheering for his former tag partner when he wins. Afterwards, he nudges Alex and they sneak out of the crowd and head towards the locker room, Mike having called ahead to get clearance through the fed's head booker. Security confirms and lets them through, directing them to the room John's just entered.
"Shhh," Mike hisses at Alex before knocking on the door. "Room service," he calls in a falsetto, not sure and not caring who else might be in the room other than his best friend. He's not fully surprised when Morrison doesn't bite, recognizing this trick of his, and pulls the door open, looking at him incredulously.
"It's a locker room, Mike. There is no room service here," he laughs, before grabbing him by his sleeve and dragging him inside, the room only containing a few other men that Mike only vaguely knows by having seen them compete earlier on in the card. Alex follows, quietly shutting the door behind them. "Hey Alex," John greets the younger man.
"Hey, John." Alex grins, adjusting his ballcap.
Morrison tears off what remains of his wrist tape before raising an eyebrow at the other two. "Now what are you guys doing here?"
"We wanted to see how bad the ring rust has gotten over the last few years," Mike sneers at him before his face softens minisculely. "You looked good out there though."
John smirks, running his fingers through his still jealously perfect hair. "It has been awhile since you've seen me compete, huh?" His dark eyes trail over to the clock. "Wait, are you guys skipping Axxess for me?"
"We had some free time between signings, so we took advantage of it," he shrugs. "Besides, it keeps this one from pouting that his webcam chat thing didn't work out tonight." Mike laughs as Alex mumbles something viciously.
"Webcam chat?" John echoes, eyebrows up to his hairline as he looks from man to man in confusion.
"Don't ask, it's a long story." Mike chuckles as Alex looks even more offended, huffing at him. "Have someone help you set up next time, and it'll go smoother," he chides him mockingly. "I've never had these kind of technical difficulties."
"I told you, it wasn't me! It was the lighting, it was messed up. I'll try again at my house, it should be better there." Mike still looks amused, however, and Alex rolls his eyes.
John shakes his head, humored by the two men. "So you've become his new target for nonstop mocking, huh, since I'm not around as much? You have my sympathies," he smirks as the former NXT rookie winces. "You guys gonna come back tomorrow? I wrestle again then. Against Jushin Liger."
Mike is well aware of the match, nodding immediately. He's been curious how Morrison would do against the well-renowned lucha star, fairly certain now that John hadn't lost a step after seeing his match against Elijah, making it seem like a much more even fight to come. "Of course, wouldn't miss it."
"Maybe get some better disguises, huh? A wig, maybe some makeup..." He smirks, tugging at Mike's hoodie until his best friend smacks his hands away, suddenly looking as annoyed as Alex had moments earlier.
"Quiet or we'll bring toilet paper to throw at you," he warns. John only pouts harder when Alex laughs at that. "But we really should go," he finally concedes, catching sight of the clock. The auction for the Superstorm Sandy relief fund is beginning soon and they'll only just make it if they leave now. "In case we don't see you before tomorrow, knock 'em dead. I know you will."
Pout disappearing immediately, John grins. "Thanks, man. See you afterwards maybe, huh?"
Mike nods, clapping him on the back before turning for the door. "Of course. See you then." As Alex and John exchange their own byes, he goes out into the hallway and closes his eyes, waiting for Alex to follow. Despite everything, his new resolve, the awareness that Wrestlemania is so, so close they all can taste it, how all he wants is to become Intercontinental champion, and see Swagger get some comeuppance for all he's done the past few weeks, the lingering fear that this all could crash down around him like his attempts to get John back in WWE had leaves him breathless for a few moments. But just a few as he squares his shoulders and looks ahead stonily, aware that it had been self-doubts like that that had ultimately gotten him into this position to begin with.
By the time Alex comes out, he's secure and determined once more, offering the kid a simple smile. They quietly trudge out of the building, Alex's arm a warm, steadying force across Mike's shoulders.
The next day, they do it all over again, despite being ran ragged between autograph signings, radio interviews, and other Axxess activities before rushing out to the building once more for the second PWS event, both men cheering as John comes out, his music only causing them to smile a bit this time around. His match against Jushin doesn't last long, the two men going back and forth until Jushin strong-arms him up to the top rope, which ends up being a mistake as John's always been at home the most up there, kicking the skilled lucha star away and setting up for his Starship Pain, which he succeeds at hitting, and getting a three count off of it.
This time, when Mike and Alex approach security, they're allowed right back, John waiting for them in the hallway. He laughs and claps their shoulders, feeling obviously good on this mini-roll he finds himself. "I'm two for two," he explains as he leads them into the locker room and shakes his hair out, letting it fall naturally once more against his shoulders. "I've kind of forgotten how winning consecutively like that feels." He doesn't notice how Mike's grin slips at these words, but Alex does, nudging his mentor quietly. By the time John turns back around, he's schooled his expression into another grin, less sincere this time, but present. "So how's Wrestlemania week treating you two?"
"Not bad," Alex shrugs. "I beat Mason Ryan."
"Busy," Mike sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Everyone wants a piece of the soon to be Intercontinental champion." He smirks dully, remembering how much John had loved that belt as well. "But it's good, I'm used to it after all. Always entertaining, meeting some of the fans."
"Ah yes, I well remember." Morrison chuckles, shaking his head. He misses some of what came with being a WWE Superstar, and some of it... not so much. Fans are, of course, the reason a lot of them do what they do, but some can also be weird, or on this side of scary.
"Guess who's rumored to be here this weekend?" Alex asks, a small smirk on his face and Mike's sure he knows what the younger man's going to say before John even asks. "Your old tag partner Snooki."
John winces slightly before chuckling, remembering that tag match in his last Wrestlemania with the company. "Huh. Makes sense, I guess." As they settle in on the metal chairs and rickety benches to discuss what other celebrities they'd heard were going to be in attendance, Mike tries to pretend that it's another, better lit, larger locker room that they're hanging out in, preparing for Wrestlemania, and not merely a hurried visit, not this...
That Sunday is everything Mike wishes it to be, and more, in ways. He actually runs into Snooki early on and she grins up at him, raising an eyebrow as she snaps her bubble gum. "Weren't you John Morrison's tag partner once upon a time?"
"So were you," he volleys back with a small smile as he wonders what to expect from the reality show star, knowing better than anyone that a lot of what's seen on these shows are caricatures of what a person's like in real life.
"True." She reaches up and pats him on the arm of his leather jacket, her dark eyes strangely compassionate as she reflects on her Wrestlemania match a couple years ago. "How's he doing, anyway? Heard he was released a few months after our tag match." Their whole team, despite eking out a victory, hadn't gelled the best, but she doesn't seem to hold any illwill towards him, and Mike's glad of that.
"He's doing alright. I actually saw him yesterday, he's competing for an indy fed this weekend so I went to see how he's doing." They exchange small talk for a bit longer, mostly about Morrison, but she's just mentioned his title match when an idea comes to him and he grins. "Hey, wanna help me with something?" When she agrees upon listening to his explanation, he leads her to the main locker room and tells her to wait. There's a camera waiting there so they're caught on film as he returns and greets her as if he'd not seen her yet, and they're talking when, just as he'd expected, Wade Barrett interrupts.
Snooki insulting Barrett is the best thing Mike's seen in awhile and just what he needed leading into their match- it's surprisingly a short match, and he wonders if perhaps he's feeding on whatever had fueled John the past few days in his matches, but either way he comes out the victor after slipping Wade back into the Figure Four and feeling him tap. He clings to the belt, relieved and amazed that it's back where it belongs with him, the white of the belt looking so good against his arm, and yells out to the crowd, "Welcome to Wrestlemania!" Alex greets him with a bone-rattling hug as soon as he's backstage, the two men laughing as they part just enough to stare at the title belt reflecting every light around.
The night, however, isn't over as Alberto Del Rio retains his title against Jack Swagger, all of Mike's hopes for the evening slowly coming to realization. He and Alex are standing in the hall, Mike's title resting proudly against his shoulder, when the Mexicans make their way back, looking about as happy as Miz feels. "Hola, Miz, Alex," Ricardo greets them with a relieved grin, barely seeming bothered by his ankle, which Colter had kicked in the middle of the match, inciting more rage from Del Rio and a little bit of revenge with the crutch.
As Alberto helps him hobble towards them, Mike glances at Alex, who nods upon guessing what his mentor wants to do. "Hey, Ricardo. Del Rio."
"Hola," Alberto murmurs distractedly, helping his friend sit on a nearby trunk so he can talk with Mike and Alex for a moment without tiring out his ankle any further.
"Congratulations on winning the title, Miz," Ricardo offers once he shifts so he can look at them easier. Alberto sits down next to him after finding a metal chair for him to prop his ankle on, and stares at them quietly. "Plenty to celebrate tonight, hm?"
"Yeah, there definitely is." He grins. "Speaking of that, if your ankle is up to it, what do you say the four of us go do just that?" It's funny, inviting Del Rio to come celebrate anything with him, considering their history, but their careers had been following the same path for awhile now, there's no point in denying it, and the worst thing that could happen would be their refusing the invitation, so why not.
Alberto glances at Ricardo, who is staring at him uncertainly, but the want in his eyes are obvious to them all and finally the Mexican aristocrat nods. "Fine, amigo. But if your ankle starts to hurt worse-"
"Low-key," Mike promises, knowing that they're all worn down from Axxess and all of the Wrestlemania activities the past few days, his exhaustion a nonstop buzz in the back of his mind even as he grips the title belt with awed pleasure. "How about going somewhere to eat, where we can sit and just relax for awhile? Sound alright?"
"Sounds fine," Alberto agrees after a moment, smiling down at his ring announcer who just looks pleased to be involved in this.
"By the way, congrats on retaining your belt. I enjoyed seeing Swagger get what was coming to him," Mike offers, his eyes resting on Ricardo's ankle for a moment as Alberto helps him slide back off of the trunk.
"Gracias. I enjoyed making him pay." There's a grim smirk on the older man's face that fades when Ricardo winces slightly with each step. Mike hands over his title belt to Alex and slips into place on Ricardo's other side, helping him balance easier on his walking boot. He wonders how many crutches will be destroyed or lost by the time the poor ring announcer's ankle is healed enough that he doesn't require them. "Come, amigo," Alberto urges him softly as he and Mike eases the ring announcer down the hall.
After a quick drive, they stop at the first restaurant that Alberto had suggested, a quiet place with simple ambiance, decorated well enough to appease Del Rio but with a varied menu that all four men approve of. They've just settled in at a wraparound booth, giving Ricardo space to stretch his bad ankle out on the plush cushion, when a waitress greets them, waiting patiently for their drink orders. After Alex asks for whatever's on tap, Alberto requests an imported beer that Mike had never heard of, motioning to Ricardo before he can speak up, ordering diet coke and vodka for him. When the ring announcer looks pleasantly surprised, Del Rio smirks, patting him on the shoulder. "We're celebrating, right, amigo? I want you to enjoy yourself." Mike guesses that this means he's now off of the antibiotics Del Rio had mentioned he'd been put on as a precaution due to his past difficulties, and perhaps off of the stronger pain killers as well.
"Si, I'm just surprised you remembered," he admits, staring at the menu intensely.
Mike notes the small look of discomfort on Alberto's face, remembering after a moment that, yeah, the two men had only truly become friends a few months ago. They'd been so inseparable since that he'd almost forgotten it was a more recent occurrence, something that had happened so naturally that it'd seemed like something that had been going on for years. He's about to state his own drink order when Alex speaks up, the grin audible in his voice. "He'll have a chocolate milk shake. And some french fries."
She blinks but marks it down without a comment, nodding at each of them before leaving to give them time to sort out their actual food order. As soon as she's gone, Mike nudges Alex and shakes his head with a knowing laugh as Ricardo and Alberto stare at them curiously. "Geez, if Morrison was here, he'd complain so loudly-"
"What if it was Morrison's idea?" a new voice cuts into the conversation, Mike almost choking on his own saliva as he twists around in the booth to gape as his former tag partner lingers behind them. "Yeah, I texted Alex and told him what to order," he says, smirk growing across his face. "Hey, Alex. Ricardo." He raises an eyebrow at Del Rio. "'Berto."
The Mexican aristocrat rolls his eyes, remembering their former tension, but says nothing as Alex stands up to let the fifth man scoot into the booth next to Mike. He's come a long way since Morrison had last been with the company, but it's still a seemingly impossible road to repair everything with everyone, not that he wants to with some. Even so, Mike and Alex are the former superstar's friends and John and Ricardo had somehow gotten on alright at times, despite his and Alberto's problems and that time that he'd left his ring announcer with bloodied shins after one of those ridiculous parkour competitions, but it was all so long ago... He ultimately drops it, too pleased to have walked out of Wrestlemania champion to dwell for too long on those bad memories, choosing to enjoy this time with his best friend, and, yes, the others.
Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and sometimes faster than anyone could ever expect. After the night before, with his friends, Mike is still flying high and maybe it causes him to be just a little too cocky. A bit too confident. When Barrett challenges him to his return match, Miz grants it and walks into the match expecting a repeat of the night before. But the longer it goes, the more in Wade's favor it falls until... the angered Brit sends him face first into the post. The rest of the match is a blur. Being helped to the back is all but nonexistent to him afterwards, a wavering vision of Alex's worried, disappointed face fresh in his mind as he breathes in and out, tries to not get sick right then and there.
Words like concussion and loss floats around above him and he barely understands any of it- yeah, he feels lost, sure, but an actual loss? He has no idea... He thinks he must drift off to sleep at some point because all of the confusing sounds and sights die away, leaving him in blissful darkness, until more footsteps and loud voices echo around him, dragging him back to the painful light. It takes a minute but he recognizes the thickly accented voice of Alberto Del Rio nearby and the softer spoken Ricardo, one in pain and the other sounding almost tearful. He forces his eyes open and looks around, despite how the room swims around him. Finally he spots Del Rio sprawled out on the cot opposing his own, knee and ankle free of his boot and all wrestling gear, an X-Ray machine set up to examine it like what had been used on HHH the day prior. Gingerly looking the other direction, he finds Ricardo leaning against the wall, watching on with tears silently dripping down his pale, shocked face. Alex is standing next to him, his face tense and drawn. "What happened?" he mumbles, surprising both men as they stare at him.
"Ziggler cashed in," A-Ri finally explains dully, the words crashing around Mike like hail in a thunderstorm. "He's champion."
Mike struggles to look back over at Del Rio, his headache growing with each movement, and finally their eyes lock. Both men had been briefcase carriers, years ago. Both had cashed in, had won the WWE title in that manner. He'd never gone through having the briefcase cashed in on himself, but he can imagine how Alberto must feel: they can't complain, either of them, of how Ziggler had accomplished his second World Title victory- both would've done the same thing, if given the chance, and had, but still... it sucks. Something hits him like a freight train suddenly and he realizes- his own belt is gone. Just a little over 24 hours, and... "No."
Alex realizes what he must've remembered and steps forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's ok."
"No, no," he groans, slamming his fist against the cot in denial, pain somehow spreading from his skull down his arm at the movement. "My belt..."
"Hey, hey, shhhh. You're going to hurt yourself, man. Relax." Alex's hands press against his wrist, holding him in place. "Ssssshhhhhh." He stands there, trying to calm Mike down, as the former champion's trembles shake through his body. A-Ri wishes that Morrison could be here, in the arena, the older man always better at comforting Miz than he himself had ever been.
He watches quietly as Ricardo limps over to his employer, murmuring apologies to him for the loss, and his inability to help because of his ankle, and everything else, Alberto immediately denying his each and every claim of guilt and pain. "It's not your fault," he whispers. "It's just one of those things, mi amigo. We are far from done, si? Ziggler will get what he deserves for all of this," he promises, reaching up to wipe a fresh flood of tears off of the younger man's face. "Stop that now. It's all going to be fine. I swear to you."
"Si, El Patron," Ricardo sniffs through a nod, trying desperately to stop the wave of emotions to make his employer relax even a little.
Whereas the four men had been connected the night before by success and happiness, they now share disappointment and sudden loss.
Later that night, Mike is released into Alex's care and they return to the hotel, Mike's balance wavering and worrisome on the way to the car, it taking everything that A-Ri contains to keep him on his feet and not faceplant into the concrete. Alex has never been more relieved than when they arrive at the hotel and Morrison is in the parking lot, waiting for them. "John," he breathes out, feeling his knees nearly go weak for a second when he sees him. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Hey, me too. Hear our guy had a bad night, huh?" John asks, leaning down to look in at Mike as he slumps against the window.
"Yeah, that's one word for it. Concussion." Alex sighs heavily and gingerly opens the door, John scooping up his tag partner before he can slide clear out of the vehicle. "Come on, man. Let's get you to bed. You'll... you'll feel better in the morning. I hope." His voice cracks and for a moment, he understands how Ricardo had felt earlier, dealing with both his friend's loss and injury all at once. Mike says nothing, still lost in the disorienting world of the concussion and struggling to accept that he's no longer Intercontinental champion.
"You look worn out too, Alex. Go to bed, I'll watch him tonight. It'll be fine. I promise," John whispers once they reach the room after what felt like an unending elevator ride for all three men, and get Mike settled in.
Bed sounds so welcoming that Alex only nods blankly and sinks down into the second mattress, watching as Morrison adjusts the sheets around Mike, before sinking back into his own bedding. Sleep claims him immediately, but it's restless and he wakes up every little bit, sitting up to check on Miz every time. John's always there awake and watching as he'd promised, blinking at him in the slowly growing light while the sun rises, Alex realizing anew just how badly he misses the way things used to be when John was in the company and all three of them could regularly travel together.