Back to Basics

by corneroffandom

The road a wrestler takes is never easy, even if you're a must-see A-lister superstar like The Miz.

158. Degrees of Separation

A/N: Finished this a little late but it's the bonus fic for chapter 150. And there'll be another in a couple of short months when Back to Basics turns three in July! Yay!

The Shield. A faction that had kept the WWE tense, on their toes for months now. No one knows where they'll come from, who they'll target, what will come of their brutality. Things only grow more frantic when the men somehow survive Wrestlemania, beating three former world champions in Sheamus, Orton and Big Show decisively enough that the rest of the biggest show of the year had been overshadowed by uncertainty and worry from those who'd been targeted by the trio in the past. The weeks spent hoping that their threat would be vanquished, done away with, all for nothing. The situation is no better as that Sunday comes to an uneasy conclusion.

Only three people seem undisturbed by the evening's happenings, Heath Slater, Drew McIntyre and Jinder Mahal watch the locker room react pensively, smirks on their faces as they linger. Their eyes lock and Heath shakes his hair out. "Wha'dya think, boys? Wanna get into some trouble?"

"Yes," Jinder and Drew agree easily, eyes glinting dangerously. As the three men symbolize 3MB with their fingers, Drew slings an arm around both of his teammates, the three men leaving to party like only rockstars could. They'd been overlooked for far too long, if things won't change, then 3MB will force them to.

Once they leave, only a few stragglers remain in the arena, despite the event being long over with. Zack Ryder by catering, poking fun at Dolph Ziggler's battered and abused briefcase. A few feet away, AJ holds Big E. back, taking the cues from her boyfriend, who seems to almost enjoy exchanging barbs with his former rival. Towards the end of the hallway, Miz and Alex Riley sit, watching as Ricardo Rodriguez gingerly touches up the bucket that he'd randomly began carrying around a few months back, before his ankle injury. The ring announcer only blinks a bit as Alex leans forward and dips his fingers in the red paint used to mark the Mexican flag's colors along the surface of the metallic surface, painstakingly smearing it across the newspapers that had been spread on the floor around the bucket so he wouldn't ruin the arena's tile. Catching on, his former NXT pro grins and follows suit with the green paint, the two colors meshing together in a sloppy brown shade wherever they meet.

Neither men seem that offended as Alberto Del Rio ventures out of his nearby locker room a few moments later to check on his best friend, finding the two fingerpainting like a couple of kindergarteners, and says as much, before turning his attention to Ricardo's own handiwork, complimenting him on maintaining the show of pride in their heritage. The ring announcer grins through a soft murmur of gracias, glancing anxiously over at the mess the other two are making.

None of them are aware of what's on the horizon, blissfully continuing on with their lives like everything will always be this peaceful and simple.

It starts the following night, before 3MB even arrives at the arena. The Shield makes their presence known early on, when Miz is in the ring with Wade Barrett in a face to face, Barrett quickly making a getaway after things rapidly escalate and he lands a harsh elbow in Mike's face, leaving him laying helpless and barely conscious. He's still struggling to regain himself when he realizes that he's all alone in the ring- the referee mysteriously gone, Mike half-sitting up to figure out what's going on. He's just blinked hard enough to work some of the blur out of his vision, focus on his surroundings when he spots a flash of black out of his peripheral vision, turning to stare at a sneering Dean Ambrose. His breath stutters as he realizes what this means, finding Seth Rollins standing to his left, smirking. He can't see him but just knows that the silent, menacing form of Roman Reigns also has to be around somewhere as well.

He stands warily and looks from side to side, knowing that there's no easy way out. Even if he did get to the ramp, the three men would chase him down and instead of beating him down out here in the ring, they'd accomplish their goal in the backstage area, where there's many more painful things to use against him. So he stands his own, waiting for what's to come. Nothing else, he'll fight for as long as he can. Since they'd walked out winners at Wrestlemania, the whole locker room was tense, waiting for the next shoe to drop with these three. Why, exactly, they're targeting him, he's not sure, but he doubts they really need much of a reason any longer.

They move as one, slinking up onto the apron and examining him with their varying expressions, eyes gleaming. All he can think is These maniacs truly enjoy this, before they're on top of him, raining punches and kicks upon him, leaving him trying desperately to get free of the melee, managing a few blows of his own before getting overwhelmed once more. He finally has no choice but to curl up and try to block some of their offense with his arms or legs, wait for the body-shattering impact of their Trio Bomb, when the audience starts to freak out with cheers and murmurs, announcing the appearance of someone as The Shield members reluctantly leave him alone briefly, his hair standing up as he wonders who could possibly bother to rescue him- Sheamus? Show? Or...

His speculating thoughts stutter to a horrified stop when he rolls over yet again, ignoring his body's raw throbbing, to find Ambrose, Rollins and Reigns all surrounding an all too familiar form- Alex Riley also is trying and failing at fighting the three vicious animals off, slowly succumbing to their perfectly in-sync attacks. Mike grunts, finding his way to his feet and he tries to hold the three men at bay, return their focus to their original target, but only Ambrose and Rollins bite, leaving Roman behind to decimate Alex. Mike is pummeled down once more, forced to watch across the ring as Reigns, boring of the simplistic punches and kicks he'd peppered across the younger man's body, lifts Alex up and waits, his stance secure and strong, not wavering even as he waits for his partners to come assist in the trio bomb.

Rollins notes this first, nudging Ambrose and motioning over to the muscular man, both men quickly abandoning Mike and taking their positions on either side of Alex like some demented triangle of force and destruction. There's nothing to be done, Mike forced to lay and watch, blood trickling down his scalp from where they'd landed a particularly hard set of shots, as his former protege is slammed ruthlessly against the mat, his body not moving once they're done, even when Reigns crashes down next to him and roars in his face, joining his teammates as they quickly leave the ring and head out through the crowd, leaving a trembling Miz leaning against the ropes, pain vibrating from every inch of his raw, beat body.

The referee, who he'd heard yelling from a blurry, pain-filled distance through all of that, finally enters the ring and kneels to check on him, but Mike only has eyes for Alex, who hasn't moved yet since crashing into the mat with the impact that looks like what Miz thinks a car accident must have. He pushes away from the ropes, screams at the referee, and scrambles over to his best friend. "Alex, Alex-" He's not sure where to touch, finally settles on resting his hands on the still man's arm, chest. He's still breathing, heart beating quickly underneath his fingers, and Mike sighs in some relief once this registers fully with him. "Why did you come out? Why-?" But he knows why, painfully aware that the younger man was just trying to help, just to take the worst of their offense onto his own back to spare Mike. He scrubs at his face with a shaking hand, struggling to breathe normally. "It's ok, never mind. I'm here. You're going to be ok."

The referees and trainer begin swarming, trying to get Miz to move away from Alex, but he refuses, all but snarling at each of them whenever they touch him. "Come on, kid, come on!" he's snapping when finally there's a flicker of response, A-Ri's arm twitching under Mike's. When he groans, eyes fluttering, the former WWE champion feels a little like crying. "Alex?"

He hisses out a breath, his face tense as he gingerly licks at his dry, raw lips. "Mike?"

It's the sweetest thing Miz thinks he's ever heard. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Things are going- going to be just fine." Only then does he allow the staff room to work on his friend, gnawing on his lip anxiously. Mixed in with his worried, distorted thoughts are simply: They will pay.

As Alex is helped backstage by the group of referees and Mike, none of them notice the freshly arrived 3MB standing by the door, watching on with a knowing smirk, their expressions hinting to trouble.

By Friday, Alex is feeling relatively better. His neck still sends sharp pains down his spine if he moves wrong, but he accompanies Mike to Smackdown anyway, just needing something to do even if he's not cleared to compete yet. Mike had been against the move, continues to be wary and overly watchful, keeping an eye out for The Shield or anyone else who might dare to attack Alex. There's a dark match going on in the ring, Zack Ryder vs JTG, cameras being tested for the show that will begin shortly, when they hear an odd buzz from the slowly growing crowd.

Unsettled, Mike exchanges glance with Alex and slowly approach the gorilla, uncertain- if it's The Shield, he wouldn't mind going out to get some revenge for Monday, but A-Ri's presence holds him back as he doesn't want the kid trying to help and getting injured again, especially if The Shield should be somewhere in the arena, just waiting for their opportunity to attack again. But as they stare out to the ring, the three men laying Zack out with body blows and kicks aren't The Shield- no, it's the leather wearing, band-wannabes known as 3MB. As Heath Slater directs traffic, Drew McIntyre and Jinder Mahal hold the Long Island native up, allowing Heath to grip his jaw tightly and all but scream in his face before doing his air guitar taunt, smacking him in the face on the tail end of it.

Shaking off his mindnumbing shock at seeing these three actually pulling off a successful beatdown for the first time in months, and so soon after The Shield's against himself and Alex, those memories leaving him motionless for long moments, Mike storms through the curtain and rushes the ring, unaware that Alex's followed him. But they're spotted and 3MB make their getaway, laughing and mocking them loudly from the timekeeper's area, before slipping through the crowd- so similar, yet so different, and... Mike swallows, forcing the thoughts from his mind as he turns to find Alex helping a dazed Zack to sit up. "Hey, are you ok?" he asks tensely, resting a hand on Zack's shoulder as he kneels by him.

"Yeah bro," the younger man grumbles, looking from him to Alex. "What was that?"

Mike shakes his head, looking back through the crowd where the trio had disappeared to, feeling uncomfortable and somehow an easy target while sitting here. "I have no idea," he mumbles, wondering too. Their actions had been so similar to The Shield's, their exit, everything...

He has a very bad feeling about all of this.

"So you have the cast off," Mike observes with a small smile on his face as he stares at Ricardo Rodriguez, looking and obviously feeling much better than he had even a couple of weeks ago, when Swagger and his manager's xenophobic rants- and actions- had been following him and Del Rio around, soiling their enjoyment of the road to Wrestlemania, Alberto's first as World Champion.

"Ah, si, si I do!" Ricardo nods, smiling. "I still have to wrap it to give it some support for a week or two more, but I can now wear my shoe and don't need the crutch. As long as I'm careful, recovery should be finished soon."

Mike grins too, pleased for his friend. "I'm glad for you, man. Wish I could've helped more during all of that Swagger nonsense..." He hesitates. "My MizTV that one week might've made tension worse, and if it did, caused this..." He breathes and waves at Ricardo's leg. "I'm sorry."

The ring announcer glances down at his foot, reflecting on the past few weeks, and shakes his head. "This all probably would've happened either way, don't blame yourself, Miz. As long as Colter and Swagger want to rid the nation of people like myself and El Patron, one appearance on MizTV wouldn't have changed their viewpoint or plans."

Mike smiles at him, relieved that he doesn't blame him. "Yeah, I guess you have a point." They're still standing there, half-watching Raw, when Alberto Del Rio walks towards them, a small smile on his own lips.

"Amigo," he greets Ricardo, patting him on the jaw before turning to Mike. "Miz."

"Alberto." His and Del Rio's relationship is still rocky, the two men only getting along somewhat for Ricardo's sake, but every little bit of progress is good, their small group slowly gaining more and more of a bond with each passing day.

"Ready to go, amigo? My match is next," he says, grinning slightly when Ricardo looks up at him, nodding. "Bueno. Let's go then." He squeezes Ricardo's shoulder, nodding quietly at Mike before following the ring announcer to the gorilla position where Ricardo goes out first to do his introductions.

As he turns to the nearest monitor to watch, Alex joins him with a bottle of water. Mike had forced him to check in with the trainer again, who'd confirmed that A-Ri was basically recovered from the last week's attack, his injuries thankfully not too serious, despite how long he'd been out of it, worrying Mike. So now they watch as Del Rio stares across at Big E., a confident look on his face. Miz tries not to think about it but neither of their individual successes at Mania had lasted long enough to really be enjoyed- Del Rio had been cashed in on the next day, just after Mike had lost his Intercontinental title as well. With the next pay per view still a good month away, both had been stuck looking for something to do, any chance to get another opportunity at the belts they'd lost so suddenly, but so far neither had been overly successful.

They're still standing there, quietly watching Ricardo cheer on Del Rio from the outside, when that familiar spree of words echoes through the arena again- Sierra, Hotel, India, Echo, Lima, Delta- heralding the arrival of the brutal trio. Mike tenses and looks over at Alex when Del Rio roughly throws Big E. out of the ring, opposite from where Ricardo is standing, to turn his full focus onto the approaching men in the crowd. Ricardo looks as clueless on what to do as the rest of them, hesitantly climbing up onto the apron, but before he can enter, Alberto shakes his head roughly at the younger man. "Get down, go- get away from the ring, Ricardo. Now!" Ignoring his ring announcer's denials, he points at the floor. "Go! I will not have you injured again- go, Ricardo-"

"But-" His eyes are frantic and he doesn't want to distract his employer so finally he heeds his pleas and hops down to the floor, slipping away from the ring and just making it to the timekeeper's area when the trio hops over the barrier and surrounds the ring, identical cocky sneers on their faces. He's then forced to watch as the men fake his employer out, hopping onto the apron just to fall back to the floor before trying again, finally Roman entering the ring fully and immediately shoulderchecking the Mexican aristocrat to the mat. Only then do Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose take the opportunity to enter as well, joining in the melee against Del Rio, kicking and punching any part of him they can reach.

Ricardo's hands are coiled into tense fists as he watches on helplessly, his mouth trembling while the beatdown continues on and on and on, finally the trio dispersing enough for Roman to scoop Del Rio up for their trio bomb. "No, no," he mouths over the crowd's response, but there's no stopping it as Alberto's body is slammed into the mat, the three members of The Shield standing over him with matching sneers on their faces, Roman roaring into the camera before they hold their fists together, proving their continued unity which had left WWE as a whole frozen the past few months. They finally leave back through the crowd, Ambrose's dangerous eyes locked on Ricardo as he leaves, and the ring announcer scrambles into the ring once he's sure they're gone, gripping his employer's arm, his hand, touching his face. "Lo siento," he murmurs. "Lo siento, El Patron-"

Del Rio says nothing, his eyes fluttering, but he squeezes Ricardo's hand and breathes roughly as the trainers prepare to move him for further examination in the back. The ring announcer feels horrible and disgusted, unsure how many times they're going to have to go through this in such a short period of time. He knows injuries are part of the business, but not like this- never like this, between his ankle and Alberto's knee, and now... He shakes his head desperately and strokes the soft hair at Del Rio's temples, hoping that it soothes him even a little.

They're almost to the trainer's office, no one paying much attention to him as they analyze Alberto's neck, his knee, anything else they think might be a lingering concern, when hands roughly grab Ricardo by the back of his tux and drag him away from his employer, a door slamming behind him as he blinks against the half-lit room he's been thrown into, shaking his head in confusion. As he turns slowly, dread leaving him tense and a little ill, he swallows when he comes face to face with three sneering faces, eyes wide. "Ay," he whispers, lifting his hands in a feeble attempt at defending himself as the trio approaches him.

Mike walks through the halls, his face tense and hands pressed to his sides as he reflects on The Shield attacking yet again- how similar it'd been to his own attack the week prior. He breathes deeply, glancing over at Alex, and shakes his head. "Something has to be done... This can't continue."

Alex nods as they push their way into the trainer's office to check on Alberto, make sure both he and his ring announcer are fine after all of that- Mike coming to an immediate stop as he realizes something's missing. Alex runs into his back but the former WWE champion says nothing, his narrowed eyes still scanning the room, and Alex catches on quickly. "Wait, where's Ricardo?"

Del Rio is still out of it, the trainer busy examining his neck, but murmurs something sounding like his ring announcer's name, hands twitching in discomfort at his sides. "Ric-..."

A chill of unease down Mike's back, he turns and pushes Alex back out of the room. "Come on, we have to find him- The Shield's already attacked him once, we can't just-" His words die away as they race back down the way they'd come, stopping only long enough to look in each room as they pass. They're almost at the gorilla position when a door opens, Mike not pausing in his rushed dash forward, ramming right into Heath Slater and sending him into the wall. 3MB, Alex and Mike all pause and stare at each other, a sneer on the three men's faces as they slowly back away and leave the area, Mike and Alex coming to the same conclusion at once. "Ricardo," Mike hisses, pushing the door open once more and staring around the room until finally his eyes rest on the motionless form of the ring announcer. "Ricardo..." He's by his side within seconds, gingerly rolling him over. "Hey, hey." The younger man isn't responsive, his face pale and slack. "Alex, go get the trainer!" he barks at his former protege, his eyes not leaving Ricardo once. As Alex thunders out of the room, Mike groans and shakes his head. "What is going on around here anymore?"

Things move quickly once the trainer arrives, Miz standing nearby as he and a group of referees transport Ricardo onto a stretcher that they cart down the hall into his office where they settle him down on a cot near Alberto's, the trainer quickly settling into examining him. Mike closes his eyes as he stands by Alex, watching the trainer check his skull, spine, neck, anything else that might be a cause of his lingering unconsciousness. "3MB," he mutters in lingering disbelief. "This is..."

"Between them and The Shield," Alex murmurs, also seeming uncertain how to finish vocalizing his thoughts. They stand in silence and watch as Alberto and Ricardo both linger on, side by side, in unresponsive voids. "First us, then Zack, now these two," he finally concludes, shaking his head. "Why, though? What's the point?"

"Good question," Mike sighs, his words dying in his throat as Alberto's eyes flutter open a moment later, dark and weary. Exchanging glances with his friend, he wanders over to the Mexican aristocrat's cot and stares down at him. "Hey, Del Rio." He ignores the trainer, who takes position on the other side and runs a light into Alberto's pupils, checking for a head injury.

He blinks blankly a few times before releasing a soft breath, glancing around, visibly looking for something... someone. "Ric- Ricard..."

Mike takes a breath, shaking his head as he realizes that of course Del Rio would note the seeming absence of his ring announcer. "Hey, it's ok. He's here, just relax." When Alberto continues searching what of the room he can see while down on the cot for the younger man, Miz makes a face and steps aside, allowing the Mexican aristocrat to look towards Ricardo's cot, his mouth working for a moment until he begins to struggle to sit up, all of his own agony forgotten at first glance of his friend down. "Hey, hey, no, man, stop," Mike tries to hold him down but Del Rio's dark eyes glower up into his own blue. He sees in him something he's felt many a time prior- when Alex or John had been injured- and he lets him go, instead remaining nearby to assist if need be.

Staggering to his feet, Alberto moves to his best friend's side and rests a hand on top of his hair, eyes gleaming sadly. "Ricardo, mi amigo. What happened to you? Who did this?" The last question directed at Mike, he glances briefly from Ricardo to the former WWE champion before turning his focus back to Ricardo, brushing his fingers through his dark hair.

"I think it was 3MB," he admits lowly. "We went to look for him and found those three leaving a room; when we looked inside, he was like this." He watches as Del Rio's jaw tightens, his fingers still brushing against Ricardo's face. "He'll be ok, though. He's strong."

Del Rio nods grimly, his hand stroking against Ricardo's forehead. "Mi amigo," he mumbles, sighing in pained worry when he doesn't respond to his employer's voice like usual. "Por favor, wake up." As if a flip has been switched thanks to these words, the younger man's hand twitches a few minutes later, all eyes immediately resting on his spasming fingers. "Ricardo?"

His face crunches up painfully and Alberto leans closer, staring intently at him, his fingers gentle against his hair. "El..." he breathes out, eyes finally fluttering open. "El... Patron..."

"Right, right," he breathes out, smiling at his friend. "I'm here. It's ok. Mi amigo, what do you remember?"

He blinks tiredly and shakes his head. "I... I..." Grunting painfully, he releases a soft breath, making a face as he tries to sort through his memories. "3MB?" He looks over Del Rio's shoulder and stares at Mike, who smiles halfheartedly at him. "I think I remember hearing Slater's voice, then everything went dark." He licks his lips before looking back at his employer, paling further. "Wait, The Shield- they attacked you," he remembers slowly. "But... why- why are you on your feet, El Patron? You should be resting," he says, recalling how bad it'd looked from the timekeeper's area as the three men had mauled his best friend.

"I'm fine," he says, shaking his head. "Don't worry about me, mi amigo. I'm more worried about you. Trainer-"

Ricardo grimaces anew as the man he'd become much too familiar with over the last few months joins them, quickly going about his duties, checking Ricardo for concussion, examining his neck, even running a quick check of his ankle, just to ensure none of his numerous prior injuries had been re-aggravated. When he confirms that the ring announcer is fine, will merely be sore for awhile, they all sag in relief as Alberto pats him on the shoulder, smiling slightly. Ricardo sighs and grips his employer's wrist, looking up at him. "Now will you sit down? Por favor, El Patron?"

"Si, si," the Mexican aristocrat sighs indulgently. Instead of going back to his own cot, however, he sits next to Ricardo on his and pats him on the shoulder some more while they wait to be released, the trainer keeping a close eye on them as he bustles around the room and allows them to talk quietly amongst themselves.

Mike ponders the situation for a few moments, uncharacteristically quiet, before Alex nudges him, curious. "What, Alex?"

"What are we going to do? Between 3MB attacking Zack and Ricardo, and The Shield going after pretty much everyone else..." He hesitates, examining his friend's somber expression. "I mean, something has to give, right?"

"Oh it will," Mike promises, dark blue gaze locked on Ricardo as he breathes painfully, shaking his head at Alberto while he rests against his employer's shoulder, groaning faintly. "It definitely will."

Alex stares at him, curious as to his plans, but when the former Most Must See Champion offers nothing, he just frowns but keeps quiet, not wanting to risk ruining his friend's thought process. Despite his unquenchable curiosity, he knows that whatever Mike has brewing will probably be interesting. His plans almost always are.

His arms crossed over his chest, Mike stares down at the woman before him, eyes resolute and determined. "It should be a simple match to make," he tells her. "After everything The Shield has done lately, 3MB too, it'd probably be a relief to you to get it out of the way at once. Right?"

Vickie Guerrero examines him quietly, her brightly made up lips pursed as she considers his idea. "I don't know, Miz, do you think you can find tag partners willing to put up with you?"

He sneers at her for a moment before nodding. "Piece of cake. So are you going to sanction this or not?"

She smirks at him. "Fine. Good luck finding suitable partners." The you'll need it is just barely implied, adding to his determination to prove her and all of his other doubters wrong.

He simply smirks back, turning sharply on his heel and leaving her room with his head held high. "Step one, complete," he mutters, staring down at his phone with a look of certainty. Sending a quick text to Alex, he resumes walking while waiting for a response on the younger man's whereabouts. When his phone beeps, he glances at the screen and turns to the right at the next turn in the halls, quickly finding the locker room he's inside of, walking right up to him. "Hey, kid. Wanna help me with something?"

Alex smiles slightly, shrugging. He'd expected something like this from Mike, eventually. "Sure, man. What's going on?"

Mike's grin turns almost predatory. "Vickie Guerrero just sanctioned a match for me." He chuckles at the look on Alex's face. "I know, right?" He shrugs. "She's of the same opinion as myself. The Shield and 3MB both need taught a lesson for their actions the past few weeks."

Curiosity definitely peaked now, Alex urges him on, "Alright, what do you need help with then?"

"I need partners for a 12-man elimination tag match for next week's Main Event," he explains with a smirk. "Me and five partners of my choosing against The Shield and 3MB." Poking Alex in the chest, he grins. "I want you to be my first partner."

Alex makes a show of mulling this over before clapping Mike on the shoulder, laughing. "Of course, man. I'm in. So who will the other four be? Any ideas?"

Mike smirks, about to say something, when tanned arms wraps around them both, Zack Ryder drawing them in closer to him. "Bros! What's this I hear about a 12 man elimination tag match? Involving 3MB?" He grins brightly at them and pulls back, thumping himself on the chest. "I'd be glad to be your third tag partner!"

Alex watches his former pro, unsure how well that will go over with him, but he surprises both of the younger men by nodding thoughtfully. "Alright, Ryder, you're in." As the broski fistpumps wildly, his grin growing, Mike catches the surprise on Alex's face and chuckles. "I was already considering him being on our team," he shrugs. "He'll want revenge too, so why not?"

Alex grins. "Well, that's true. At least he's enthusiastic. Who next?"

Mike just smirks and motions him to join him, walking through the halls. "Well, I was thinking, we're not the only one who's had problems with the Shield, so the next option is pretty obvious." He stops at a locker room and knocks, unsurprised when Del Rio answers it, staring down at him for a moment. "Del Rio."

"Miz." He steps aside, allowing the two men access quietly, probably thinking that they're here to see his ring announcer. He quirks an eyebrow when, instead, they turn towards him after nodding hello to Ricardo. "What do you want?"

Mike smirks. "Got a match proposition for you." He glances towards Ricardo and smiles, turning his attention back to Del Rio. "I know you've been looking for a way to get back at 3MB and The Shield both after last week." His words are confirmed when Alberto too glances over at his ring announcer, eyes darkening and lips thinning. "I've thought up a way for us all to get revenge on them for their actions."

"Such as?" Alberto asks, moving to stand next to his ring announcer, hand sneaking around the younger man's shoulders as he dwells once more on how 3MB had attacked him while Del Rio was being taken care of after his own attack.

"Vickie authorized a twelve man elimination tag match for me," Mike smirks. "Six of us vs The Shield and 3MB. What do ya say? Wanna be on my team?"

Alberto stares at him for a long moment before leaning down to discuss with Ricardo, who nods a bit and murmurs back to him. "Who else is on your team so far?"

Mike isn't surprised this is being asked, all too familiar with paranoia in tag team situations, often suffering from similar hesitations. "So far, myself, Alex, Zack Ryder. Are you going to be number four on Team Miz?"

Alberto is about to answer when Ricardo tugs on his sleeve, eyes wide. "El Patron-"

"Si, amigo?" he asks, half-smiling down at his best friend. "What is it?"

"I could compete-" he offers, glancing from Miz to Alberto, determination taking over his features. "Por favor- they attacked me too, I can-"

Alberto's grip tightens on him and he swallows. "I don't know, mi amigo," he says slowly. "3MB and The Shield both have attacked you, I don't think I want to chance it- if they get the upperhand, or somehow eliminate a number of us and you're left alone with them..."

"That won't happen!" he exclaims, looking surprised that his employer would even suggest such a thing to be possible. "El Patron, please- Miz needs two more tag partners, right? I'm willing, and we all get along well enough, so-"

Alberto sighs, visibly swayed as his best friend continues to look pleadingly at him, warring with his need to keep him safe versus his determination to allow him freedom to compete when he wants to. "I'll leave that decision up to Miz then. It is his team, after all," he murmurs, eyeing the other man as Ricardo then turns to look at him hopefully.

"Por favor, Miz- I promise, I won't be a liability. And my ankle is recovered, the trainer assures me-"

Mike smiles, holding a hand up to cease his rambling, aware that if it continues on, he'll start going in Spanish and they'll never get him to stop until he's about to pass out from lack of oxygen. "I don't need the hard sell, Ricardo. I trust you. But, before I agree, I have one request."

Ricardo glances uncertainly over at his employer before swallowing, facing Miz. "Si? What?"

"The Shield is a cohesive unit," he says slowly, resting his raised hand on the younger man's shoulder and kneading the muscles there. "I've seen you in the ring rarely, and I also know what you went through rehabbing your ankle the past month. So I think what we need to do is get in the ring and just... practice, make sure we can gel as well. Make sure you're 100% for all of this."

"We do have a bit of an advantage," Alex offers after a moment. When the others look at him, he shrugs. "3MB gets along with no one. The Shield seem like loners. Those two teams may not get along. If we all can work together even a little, we'll probably do alright."

Mike grins. "Well, you know I'm in."

Alex smirks. "Same." They look over at Ricardo and Del Rio, who are staring at each other in silent conversation.

Finally Alberto looks up and clears his throat. "We as well."

Mike claps sharply. "Fantastic! We'll figure out a time and place, and do this thing."

It's not until they're out of the room, Alex staring worriedly at Mike, that the leader of the team looks a little less certain. "I know what you're thinking," he sighs to his former protege. "We only have five teammates. And I know, I'm thinking of who else to ask. I just need some time to decide. I don't want to make a mistake and pick someone that's untrustworthy or..."

Alex nods, understanding. "I don't blame you, Mike, and the fact that you'd take the time to think about this so thoroughly proves you'll be a great leader during this match."

The words stop Mike mid-step as an almost sheepish grin crosses his face before he reaches up and over to wrap an arm around Alex's shoulders, squeezing his arm in thanks. "C'mon, kid. Let's get out of here. If you get any ideas for a sixth teammate, you'll let me know, right?"

"Of course, Mike," he says quietly, following him out of the building. Neither of them notice the shadowy form nearby, listening in. Once they're gone, it turns and skips away.

"Hey. Remember me?" a soft, almost coy voice asks.

"I can't recall the last time I heard from you," a second voice comments, sounding low and tinny through the cell phone tightly gripped in a hand. "Why are you calling?"

"I need a favor. You do owe me..."

There's a lengthy pause. "What do you think I can possibly do for you? Especially now-?"

"It's not what I think, it's what I know," the caller tells him. "It's not that difficult, I don't think... whatever limitations there are, I'm sure we can figure out a work-around, between the two of us. What do you say, up to a challenge?"

"Just tell me what you want. I'll see if it's at all possible."

As the mysterious person begins to explain their thought, dark eyes peer down the hallway of the arena, a smirking kind of grin spreading across their lips. Once done, the other person agrees to look into it and the call is disconnected. "This should go well."

Miz, Alex and Zack stand in a ring, watching as Alberto leads Ricardo down to join them, massaging his shoulders briskly. "Ready, amigo?" he asks softly, waiting as Ricardo enters and holds the ropes for him, nodding once they're all inside. "Good, I know you'll do fantastic."

Ricardo grins a little before he peers uncertainly at the other three, licking his lips. "Hola," he greets them as he clasps his taped hands together nervously. He looks around and blinks. "Still no sixth partner, Miz?"

"No, not yet. I'll think of something before the match, don't worry about it." Mike forces a grin and claps the ring announcer on the shoulder. "Are we all ready?" When his four teammates all nod, he claps his hands together. "Great. Let's get started then." He wishes there was a sixth already, so they could all break off into three teams and practice, but it's not going to work out that way. Sighing heavily, he looks from Alex to Zack before pointing at the Long Island native. "Zack, I want you to have a test match with Ricardo. Nothing serious, just a warm up, alright?"

"Sure, bro," Zack agrees, turning to face the ring announcer as the other three get out of the ring to oversee, Alberto tense next to Mike like he's already preparing to go in and assist his friend. But it goes well, surprising most of them, as Ricardo shakes his hands loose and locks up with Zack, the two men going back and forth for a bit until finally Ricardo sweeps his feet out from under him, sending him down to the mat in an unexpected tumble. Zack blinks up at the lights overhead before making it to his feet, looking surprised. "Bro!" He rushes forward, looking almost offended, when Ricardo grabs his arm and sends him over in an armdrag, locking his arm over his head and gripping his wrist at a bad angle.

Mike blinks. Shakes his head. Grins. "Damn! Where did that come from?" He glances over at the now relaxed Mexican aristocrat and smirks. "You two have been holding back on us."

Alberto sighs and shrugs, glancing over at him. "I wish," he explains lowly. "See, mi amigo, he can compete- sometimes. Practice matches, like this, he's fine. Even during minor events like NXT, he can wrestle decently. But... any time he's thrown into a ring in front of a large crowd like Raw or Smackdown, and he... forgets, for lack of a better term. It's unfortunate, he's quite gifted in the ring, but he loses a lot of his self-confidence when it comes to actually competing on TV, in front of thousands. I've tried to assist him work past it in the past, but..."

Mike stares at him, the upcoming match suddenly seeming more daunting to him. "I see. So if he gets tagged in during this elimination tag match..."

"It probably won't go well, no matter how hard we train right here, now." Alberto sighs. "I try to be supportive whenever he wants to compete, but he has yet to break through these problems. I apologize, I should have warned you before you agreed to allow him on your team, but... he seemed so determined..."

Mike has a lot of thoughts due to this, his need to win this match warring against his friendship with Ricardo. Finally he takes in the grin on the younger man's face as he slips out of the ring and lands by Alberto's side, looking pleased with being able to keep Zack down on the mat for most of their practice match, and knows he can't take that away from him, not after everything he'd been put through recently. He sighs and claps Ricardo on the shoulder, smiling at him. "Good job, man."

As Zack regroups, Miz pits Alex against Del Rio, watching as the two men feel each other out, Del Rio quickly overwhelming the younger man and eventually pinning him to the mat in a bridge after suplexing him to the mat. Mike, curious to see how Ricardo would handle a former WWE champion, urges him back into the ring and stares at him for a long moment. The ring announcer swallows and holds his hands in front of him, waiting for Miz's first action.

When it comes, Ricardo moves quickly and ducks the first punch, returning it with a kick of his own, right in the middle of Mike's midsection and surprising the older man. He looks almost uncomfortable as Mike massages his ribs, but falls back into it when Miz motions at him to continue, grabbing him in a sleeperhold when he approaches. Thinking quickly, the ring announcer grips Mike and slams him backwards into the mat, breaking the hold and getting him in a cover, which Mike kicks out of before those on the outside can count a three against him. It ends pretty quickly after that, Mike hitting his combo backbreaker into the neckbreaker on the younger man and pinning him, but Ricardo had done so well. As he helps him out of the ring, Del Rio waiting to take over as soon as Ricardo's on the floor, all Miz can think is, If we could just somehow work through his stage fright, he could... be quite the contender in this match.

But how to do what Del Rio couldn't for the last few years?

John Morrison sighs, scrubbing at his face as he looks over the script for the movie he's filming for, narrowing his eyes at the dialogue, still trying to remember one of the wordier scenes he has to make it through in as few takes as is possible, when there's a soft knock at the door of his apartment. He groans, resting his forehead against the sheet, before standing up. "Who is this?" he mumbles, quickly answering. "Hell- ..." He blinks down at the girl on his doorstep, shaking his head. Despite her mostly being after his time, she's become somewhat infamous to him, all of Mike's stories leaving him on edge and curious until he googled the girl and sometimes even watched Raw just to see what she's up to with his best friend. "AJ Lee," he says, moving out into the hallway and shutting the door mostly behind him so she won't get any ideas. "What are you doing here?"

She tilts her head and smiles, blinking slowly at him, but he's not swayed by her cuteness. Realizing this, she straightens up and acts a little less friendly. "I overheard Mike discussing something with a few others. He's a jackass, I'm sure you know this better than most, but I made promises to him and I failed, no matter how it all came about, and I hate failing. At anything." She takes in a deep breath and reaches into her purse, smirking as he stands warily at attention, watching as she pulls a stapled together document out and presses it against his chest until he takes it from her. "Read them over, get a lawyer to pour over them if you wish, then sign them, get them notarized and... I'll see you around." As he blinks at her, she turns and skips back down the hallway before stopping at the turn towards the stairs. "By the way, say nothing about this to Miz. He doesn't need to know..."

Once she's gone, he blinks and enters his apartment, locking the door securely behind him before dropping the papers on the table he'd just vacated, skimming them over. "No way," he mutters, jaw dropping as he reads it through again, more carefully. "She- I... Wow." He stares at his phone, fingers itching to dial Mike, but... "He doesn't need to know. Right."

After another round of practice matches, Zack Ryder lays on a trunk outside of a locker room, fresh off of a loss to Alex, who'd hit him with a clothesline so powerful he'd sworn that it'd loosened a few of his teeth. He sighs tiredly, lost in a New Kids on the Block CD, when a familiar voice breaks into the song, an answering female voice also cutting into his relaxation. He groans, tearing the earbuds out of his head and sitting up to yell at the interruptions, when he places the voice-

"You left all mysteriously and didn't even tell me where you went!" Dolph Ziggler snaps, his concussion apparently healed well enough finally that raised voices, even if they are his own, doesn't bother him. "I just... I need to know, AJ. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Don't you trust me, Ziggly?" she demands, sounding a little weary. After Big E had grown aggravated with them and began to distance himself, Dolph had become more determined to keep her close to him, and it'd began to wear at her.

"Of course I do, I just want to help you if you're involved in something-"

She groans and cups his face. "I love that you care about me, I do, Ziggly, but it's... just not something I feel comfortable telling you about right now." She turns away from him and is about to leave, when-

"Please, AJ." He sounds more vulnerable than Zack has ever heard him, even during their US title feud, and it surprises her too apparently because she turns back towards him, eyes soft. "Please."

"Fine," she breathes. "Fine, Ziggly. I'll tell you, if it makes you feel better." And she does, explains how Mike had used her in her early days of GM to get Morrison his job back, how she had failed and then resigned, but that the failure and her need to redeem even the smallest thing from her time as manager had stuck with her, despite everything Mike had put her through. It's only when she begins to talk about current things that Zack begins paying more attention. "You've heard about this twelve man elimination match Miz convinced Vickie to sanction?"

Dolph nods. "Vaguely, yeah. What about it?"

AJ takes a breath. "One of the board members owed me something so I went to him and asked for a favor." Zack can just see the confusion on Dolph's face from the position he's laying, tilting his head in some amusement as the girl continues to explain, his interest in Ziggler's reaction fading away as the meaning of AJ's words register with him, his eyes widening.

How he keeps quiet until she takes Dolph's hands and leads him away, skipping so that their interlaced hands swing back and forth, he's not sure, but once he's alone, Zack sits up and stares ahead, lips shifting into a startled grin. "Bro," he breathes. "Siiiick!"

Miz had planned things carefully, leading up into the twelve man match. Call him paranoid or whatever else you want, but he could see The Shield or even 3MB to try something before the match and take any one of them- or more- out. Considering his team already has the disadvantage with it being five on six, he has no doubts that one more strike against their team could cause them to lose from minute one. He had tried to find a sixth member, but those he attempted were either disinterested, busy with their own feuds, or just didn't like him. Too proud to go to Vickie and ask for more time- or anything else- he'd discussed it with the other four men, who'd ultimately agreed with him: They'd signed on for this match, knowing what they were walking into from the start, and they would uphold their responsibilities, no matter the outcome.

So when he'd booked all five of them to two adjoining hotel suites, he wasn't surprised when no one complained or argued, just quietly accepted, Ricardo and Alberto going through the door to their room that's connected to Mike's, so each room can hear what's happening in the other, just in case. Zack was supposed to stay with Mike and Alex but he'd been acting oddly for a few days now, a small smirk on his lips as he stands from the couch. "Hey, bros, I think I'm going to stay with Del Rio and Ricardo. You know, try to work on our chemistry so things aren't a complete mess tomorrow night."

Mike hesitates, blinking, before shaking his head. "Um, yeah. Sure, if that's what you want."

"Yep. See you tomorrow, bros!" He waves and knocks on the door dividing the two rooms, quickly slipping into the Mexicans' room when Ricardo answers, looking about as confused as Mike and Alex feel.

"Well. That was random," Alex says, eyes wide. "Do they... even get along?"

"I don't think so," Mike mumbles. "Not really. But whatever, at least he's not alone so The Shield or 3MB can't get ahold of him." He sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed, lips twisting thoughtfully as he once more ponders the situation about not having a sixth team member. "Do you think we'll do ok, just the five of us?"

Alex stares at him for a moment before sitting down next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, I do, Mike. Unlike those six, we actually gel pretty well in the ring. You've made sure of that, by scheduling all of these practice matches so we know each other's strengths, weaknesses, and how to work around them. Considering no one gets along with 3MB, I have no doubt that we'll have at least some advantage over them." But Mike still looks a little glum, staring at his phone, and Alex peers down at the screen, realizing with a sharp pang that he's staring down at a picture of Morrison from when they were tag team champions. He sighs and squeezes his friend's arm tighter, reflecting on how easy choosing the sixth person would be if John still worked here. But he knows it's a sensitive topic so he keeps quiet, not wanting to make things worse for Mike, considering how fresh that particular failure still is sometimes for the Most Must See Superstar. The last thing their leader needs is a crisis of self-confidence hours before the match he was so determined to see through.

The night passes quietly, Mike not wanting to risk leaving them vulnerable with another practice match just in case. Early the next day, the five meet up in the parking lot of the hotel, all keeping an eye out just in case an ambush should happen. But The Shield nor 3MB are anywhere to be seen as they walk to the two rentals waiting for them. Zack looks confused, his brow furrowed, and Mike nudges him. "Things ok, Zack? You've been acting weird since we arrived in town," he says, trying to downplay just how long he'd noticed the strange attitude from the younger man.

"Oh, sure, bro," he says, forcing a grin even as he continues to glance around, as if expecting something- someone- to show themselves. "Just, you know, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious."

Mike isn't really sure if he believes him but, with Main Event looming so soon, now's not really the time to think too thoroughly about whatever weirdness Zack has brewing now so he shrugs and slips into the car, Alex by his side as Zack glances uncertainly around once more before ducking into the backseat, his lips downturned as if disappointed. "Here we go," he mutters, stabbing the key into the ignition and pulling away from the hotel, Del Rio driving behind him. They'd all agreed to stay together, give their opponents no chance at all of dividing and conquering, so when they arrive at the arena rented out for the evening's Main Event, they follow a backstage tech to the locker room set aside for them all, the space thankfully big enough for all five of them, with some to spare.

"Do you know if 3MB or The Shield has arrived yet?" Mike asks the tech before he can duck back out, but the man shakes his head. Zack looks like he wants to ask something also but ultimately sits back down, biting his lip while untangling some wrist tape to wrap around his skin for protection.

The match is still hours away but the five of them begin to prepare early, Ricardo and Alberto stretching and talking lowly amongst themselves, the Mexican aristocrat's face tense with determination and focus as his ring announcer watches him with wide eyes. Mike double checks his knee and elbow pads, half-smiling as Alex does the exact same thing across from him, something he'd taught him to do before each match back in their NXT days. Nothing good comes out of having tears in your ring gear and not knowing it until it's too late, after all.

The afternoon passes slowly, Mike listening as his teammates go along with their individual prematch rituals, even Zack finding a way to be rather lowkey about it all: Although they all can hear the boyband music echoing out of his earphones as he does lunges in a corner, he at least doesn't sing out of consideration of the other four men in the room. Alex grins and pauses in sit ups as Mike releases his ankles before tossing him a bottle of water, nodding in thanks. Ricardo and Del Rio have taken over another corner of the room, the ring announcer catching his employer's punches and, rarely, kicks with bright red protective boxing gear covering his hands. Miz sighs and brushes some hair out of his eyes before swatting Alex's knee. "Switch," he says, sprawling out on the floor as Alex sits up and holds his feet so he can do some situps for his own warm up, time slipping through all of their fingers suspiciously quickly now that the show's about to start.

Sixth man or no, Mike's as determined as the others to see this through, successfully. He stares at the ceiling as Alex counts, only just able to see out of the corner of his eye as Ricardo hesitantly hands over the guards to the Mexican aristocrat and begins punching at them himself, Alberto encouraging him to not hold back as he braces himself. He smiles faintly, glancing over at Zack as he continues on, lost in his own little boyband world. If there were six of us here, none of us would have to prepare alone, he thinks grimly, losing track of himself mid-sit up. "Fifty," Alex tells him after a moment and he regroups, shaking the wayward thoughts from his head as he forces himself to pull off another, and another, and...

He's fallen completely into the zone, not paying attention to Alex's count or anything else going on around him, when there's a knock at the door, disrupting everything. They all freeze and look towards the barrier, another tech calling through the wooden barrier. "Main Event's starting, your match is up next!"

"Dammit," he mutters, scrambling to his feet. While he'd been lost in the repetitive nature of the sit ups, Zack, Del Rio and Ricardo had all finished getting into their gear, Zack in his new broski-free trunks and boots, while Alberto and Ricardo wear the matching Viva Del Rio shirts while Ricardo completes the ensemble with his zubaz again, Alex quickly adjusting his kneepads as Mike examines himself as best as he can, surprised at just how put together he looks considering. "Are we all ready?"

"Si," "Yeah, bro," "I'm good to go." Mike nods at each teammate as they confirm their preparedness, adjusting his merch shirt really quickly before approaching the door.

"Keep an eye out, who knows what those six might try, even now." Sure that the four men before him are focused on what's to come ahead, prepared for any unplanned circumstances, he grabs the doorknob and wrenches it open, peering out into the hallway. Seeing nothing suspicious, he makes his way out of the room and listens as the men follow quietly behind him, their sure footsteps bolstering his confidence in being able to lead them to victory in this match.

He peers out through the gorilla position, waiting for the usual hype videos before Main Event begins to conclude, finding himself relieved when he spots The Shield in the crowd, patiently watching and waiting for their opponents, and smirks, feeling better at even that little concession. At least they won't be able to disrupt us while we're still back here, he thinks. 3MB is still around somewhere, of course, but he doubts they'd try anything while all five of them are lined up. Finally the promo packages end and Mike's theme hits first, his smirk growing as he makes his way out of the gorilla position, looking around at the crowd and once more focusing on the three lurking members of The Shield.

Zack is next, rushing down the ramp with a large grin, eyes gleaming, as his most steadfast fans cheer for him, visibly pleased just to see him. Mike nods at him as he joins him in the ring, fistbumping him when Zack holds his fist out to him before climbing onto the turnbuckle to see over the crowd, grin growing even larger, despite Mike thinking such a thing was impossible.

Alex's music hits and the crowd reacts again, cheering on Miz's former rookie, and it pleases him to watch the reaction his friend still gets despite not being on TV much lately. He goes a little slower than Zack, pointing out certain sections of the crowd that's loudest, before sliding into the ring and one-arm hugging Mike. He takes a turn on the buckle, pointing out more crowd members, before jumping down to stand between Zack and Miz, waiting for the last two members of their team.

When Del Rio's music hits, Mike visibly relaxes, glad that no shenanigans had hindered any of their entrances. Alberto and Ricardo walk down together, Del Rio's hand sturdy on the ring announcer's shoulder as they point out and take in the crowd's response, grinning and looking so confident that Mike feels jealous of their ease, even in a situation where they're walking in vulnerable early just because the numbers are against them from jump.

3MB's music hits next and the wanna be rockband are visibly mocking them, pointing over-exaggeratedly at the crowd, and talking amongst themselves. Heath sneers at Mike as he enters the ring, the referee already working to keep the different teams separate. "Hey, Miz, did you lose a partner along the way?!" he calls, smirking when Mike glares across at him. "Oh wait, you couldn't find a sixth, that's right."

Alex's waving him off, his response lost to Mike as he once more considers what they can do to gap the vulnerabilities only having five men could cause them, when The Shield's music hits. He closes his eyes and listens more than watches as they make their way down the crowd, approaching the ring slowly. The ring jostles when the three men leap onto the apron as one, joining 3MB inside of the ring and, although the six men visibly don't get along, even 3MB know better than to argue with them to their faces, so when Roman Reigns snarls at them to get out, the three men raise their hands and duck onto the apron in supplication. Seth and Dean join them a moment later, letting Roman begin the match, and Mike looks at his teammates, about to suggest that he or Alberto start, just to get a feel of things, when-

The arena lights flicker, then die completely. Mike stands tensely in the ring, hands curling into fists as he wonders what is going on now, when yellow strobe lights pick up, flashing around the crowd before converging on the top of the ramp, a familiar theme suddenly echoing through the ringside area, not heard in the WWE for years now. "No, no way," Miz mutters, still unable to see much of anything. "It... it can't be..."

But then the lights kick back on for real, the crowd cheering wildly, as Ain't No Make Believe plays on, all eyes on the entrance ramp as John Morrison himself steps through the curtain, his hair billowing around like it used to weekly years back as he poses, his cinnamon red coat shifting with his slo-mo movements. Mike feels dizzy, watching through tear-blurred eyes, as his best friend stares down the ring at them, taking in the shock on all eleven men's faces with a grin before he begins to walk down towards them, each step self-assured and determined.

The Shield look far from impressed, 3MB squabbling behind them as Heath stares on, jaw dropped in disgust and horror at what had just happened to their advantage in this match. John ignores all of them, his eyes only on Mike and Alex as he enters the ring, the former NXT rookie's hand tight around Miz's shirt sleeve, both of their eyes widening as he approaches them, the reality of the situation hitting them anew as they stare on in shock. "Hey, guys. Surprised to see me?"

Mike gapes at him for a few moments longer before swatting out, hitting him across the shoulder. "You jackass! How- when... I mean... what the hell?!"

John just grins before ruffling Mike's hair. "Good to see you too, Mike," he says teasingly as his best friend slaps his hands away. "I forgot how well you treated your tag partners."

Then it clicks and the tears fill his eyes faster, Mike shaking his head. "You- you're our sixth partner? Really?" He sounds younger than he's felt in years and Morrison's eyes soften, the dark haired man reaching out and wrapping Mike up in a hug, the former WWE champion clinging desperately to him, remembering just how comforting these damn hugs always were, especially when John still had his coat on, and it felt like Mike was being blanketed in warmth on all sides. "But- but, how-"

John laughs, pulling away solemnly as he quickly wipes at his friend's face. "Hey, we'll discuss all of that later. But right now, we have a match to win. Right?"

Struggling to regain composure, Mike releases a shaky breath, catching sight of a sneering Reigns waiting behind Morrison, the referee still doing all he can to keep those six on their side of the ring, before nodding. "Yeah. You're right. Let's do this thing." He claps John on the back before turning to his team, feeling rejuvenated. "I want to start," he tells them simply as John hands off his coat to a nearby tech. No one argues, the other five ducking behind the ropes and allowing him to do as he wishes, Mike glaring down Roman as he gingerly approaches, arm outstretched.

The large man seems unimpressed as he stares down at the waiting Miz, dark eyes glinting evilly when he finally grips his wrist, twisting it backwards with the smallest bit of pressure. Mike immediately releases him, kicking him until he frees him with a tight smirk, seeming almost amused by how badly that had failed for his opponent. "Ok, bad idea," he mutters. "No lock up... now what should I try..." He glances over at John, still amazed that the other man had somehow found his way back to be involved in this match, and turns around just to get punched solidly in the jaw, crashing to the mat. He grunts and grips his face, shaking his head as he tries to regain composure. Well, that sucked, he thinks, barely inching away from the point of impact when a boot lands repeatedly on his midsection, causing him to curl up in an attempt at defending himself.

He thinks he's close to blacking out when the ring fills up, his teammates finally fighting people away from him, and he looks up painfully to find John and Alex fighting off the members of 3MB, Del Rio and Zack working at keeping The Shield back while Ricardo kneels down by him, trying to sit him up. "Mike," he exclaims when he sees blue eyes peering up at him. "Ay, finally. Come, come." He supports him as he fights to sit up, the two men awkwardly making it to their feet. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Mike grunts, hating that the match has broken down this quickly, The Shield's apparent lack of weakness showing early on to his disgust. Ricardo forgets all about Miz when he looks up and finds Zack down in the corner, Roman holding Alberto in position for their trio bomb again, flanked by the other two members, their backs to Mike and Ricardo.

"No!" he exclaims, rushing forward and snapping off a solid enzuigiri kick to the back of Reigns' skull to rescue his employer, sending him toppling forward. Alberto lands awkwardly on the mat as Seth and Dean turn their attention to the ring announcer, Alex and John still busy keeping 3MB down while Mike fights to maintain his balance, feeling the effects of The Shield's earlier attack. Ricardo is cornered by the two men when he looks over their shoulders at Del Rio, who is struggling to sit up, their eyes locked. He glances around at the crowd, uncomfortably aware of all of the cameras focused on them, shaking his head as he looks once more at his employer.

"You can do it," Alberto says, his words indecipherable over the crowd noise and everything else, but Ricardo can tell what he means when he watches the movement of his lips. "I believe in you, mi amigo." Gulping, the ring announcer looks over The Shield members' shoulders and catches Mike's eye, breathing in deeply as he, too, nods in encouragement, the younger man closing his eyes before taking action. He hooks his arms on either side of the top turnbuckle and kicks out, planting his feet on Seth's shoulders, kicking him back and using the momentum that comes from it to send himself clean over the ropes where he lands on the apron, just regaining his balance in time to look up, and- duck hurriedly as Ambrose lunges at him, causing the leader of The Shield to plant himself in the post.

Relieved that, for now, Ricardo is safe on the outside, both Seth and Ambrose knocked off-center, Alberto makes it to his feet and turns his attention to Roman, who is staggering to his feet also. As soon as he's upright, Del Rio grabs him and backcrackers him in the middle of the ring, the large man writhing away in pain as Alberto rolls back onto his feet and nods at Mike, moving to check on his ring announcer while Mike takes over beating up the legal man. The referee finally seems to be getting control of things once more, all three members of 3MB on the apron, Morrison, Alex and Zack joining the Mexicans on their side of the ring. Dean and Seth are still angry from earlier but when the referee threatens disqualifying them both, they give in and duck under the ropes, each movement bleeding disdain and disgust.

Mike punches Reigns, trying not to panic as he regains his footing quickly, too quickly, but grabs him and tries to pull off his neck and backbreaker combo, just for it to be reversed, Roman sidewalk slamming him into the mat. He rolls around in agony before finding himself close to his corner. He knows that he can't take much more, thinking maybe someone else would have better luck against the brutal man, so he dives forward and tags blindly, relieved when Alex and Morrison reach out and help roll his limp body under the ropes so the referee doesn't continue to yell at him. Except that he regrets the tag the instant he opens his eyes and finds Zack Ryder struggling to get free from Roman's tight hold, kicking desperately until finally the larger man throws him clear across the ring and stares at him while he fights to his feet, barely able to lift his hands before Reigns spears him nearly into the turnbuckles before dragging him away from the ropes and tangling him up in an uncomfortably painful looking pin.

When the bell rings to confirm the elimination, Mike's eyes closing in regret, his team now at 5 on 6 for real, Alberto enters the ring, patting Ricardo on the arm as he goes. Reigns sneers at him before, apparently bored with all of this, turns and stares at his corner for a moment before roughly tagging Drew in, going to stand with his own team. 3MB looks startled but soon Heath and Jinder cheer on their fellow bandmate, the long haired Scot staring down the Mexican aristocrat with a sneer. "'Ey, Del Rio, it may be better off for ya to tag out right about now. I don't wanna hurt ya, after all. Maybe let in your little ring announcer, huh? We still have some unfinished business with 'im from December."

When Ricardo tenses next to Mike, he pats him on the back, frowning as Del Rio glances back at them, his eyes dark with displeasure. "Shut up, perro," he calls out to his opponent, slapping himself on the arms to refocus as he circles Drew, looking for the best place to start with. Finally he lunges forward and they lock up, evenly matched for a brief bit until Del Rio pushes back and gains some leverage against him, looking like he's about to snap his arm against his knees when McIntyre somehow lands a headbutt, dazing both of them a bit. Mike's team loses the bit of confidence they'd regained after that first elimination as Drew kicks Alberto, unbalancing him further

"El Patron," Ricardo mutters, stomping on the steps to try to get the crowd behind his employer when the Scotsman locks him into an armlock, twisting his wrist behind his head and causing him to kick out, desperate to get free. Finally Alberto begins to fight, staring right at the corner where his ring announcer, Miz, Alex and Morrison are watching on worriedly, all encouraging the crowd to urge Del Rio on. He elbows Drew in the ribs time and again, finally winding his opponent enough to wiggle free and elbow him from the other side, quickly diving away and getting the tag in to Ricardo, who only hesitates a moment before slipping into the ring after making sure his employer is settled on the apron safely.

Drew sneers at him, eyes glinting dangerously, while rubbing his midsection. "Well, well, look who it is," he calls over to the younger man who digs his fingers into the black tape covering his knuckles to his wrists.

Ricardo glances around the arena once more, taking in the crowd and cameras, bright lights, and... But it all fades away. More important than all of the eyes on him around the world are the four men behind him, supporting him and depending on him to at least survive this match. They can't afford another elimination, not when there's still six on the other side, and... and Drew had dared use armbased offense against Del Rio, the utmost sign of disrespect in this business. He swallows and inches closer to McIntyre, watching him and the five others closely. The taller man looks upon him derisively before holding a hand out, Ricardo swallowing as he meets him halfway, locking up with him and struggling against him. Drew keeps the upperhand, pushing the ring announcer down to the mat in an uncomfortable bridge but Ricardo squirms out of it, making it to his feet while McIntyre mocks him from the mat, receiving a solid kick to the skull in response, causing him to slump to the mat in surprise.

"Hey!" Heath snaps, distracting Ricardo for a moment but the ring announcer turns his attention back to the other man when the referee goes over to warn the members of 3MB as they try to get into the ring.

Ricardo takes a breath, closes his eyes, and decides to take the chance, stuffing down his nervousness as best as he can. For El Patron and Miz and the others, he thinks before trying to snap off a standing moonsault right there, in the middle of the ring. He knows immediately when it hits, the wind taken from him almost as thoroughly as from Drew. But he forces himself to his feet and looks around at, first, his employer, then at the opposing side of the ring where Jinder and Heath are nearly apoplectic, before spotting the free turnbuckle nearest to where Drew is laying. He grins, an idea coming to him.

Dashing over to it, he climbs up to the second rope and stands there, his back to everything as he tries to psych himself into doing it. Fear overwhelms him, however, when he hears the ring rattling behind him, certain that either The Shield or 3MB or Drew himself will climb up behind him, counter whatever he's about to do and take it all away from him. Before he can worry too much, however, he hears more action in the ring behind him and a moment later, Alberto is in front of him, grinning encouragingly. "Go ahead, amigo, the ring's clear for you. McIntyre's waiting."

He nods, swallowing. "Gracias, El Patron," he tells his employer before standing up straight and completing the corkscrew moonsault off of the second rope, landing it perfectly on top of the 3MB member. As he lays there, automatically hooking his leg for the three count, it hits him. I eliminated someone... better yet, I managed the first elimination for my team. He sits up, grinning, as Drew rolls out of the ring, spitting angrily as he slams a fist into the mat on his way out.

"Tag me in, amigo," Alberto calls out to him, halfway back to their corner, and Ricardo nods, rolling over just in time to do so, Alberto into the ring and across to meet Heath. The bright haired man fights as well as he can, considering, but he doesn't last long- a punch attempt gets countered into his arm slammed across Alberto's knees, which quickly leads into the armbar. Although Heath struggles and tries to get to the ropes, it's too much for him and he eventually ends up tapping, almost landing on top of Drew when Del Rio kicks him towards the ropes to prepare for the next opponent.

It looks like Jinder is going to be the next one in and Alberto sneers at the Punjab before turning to point at his ring announcer. The crowd cheers and begins chanting si! si! si! but the Mexicans fail to notice as Jinder turns back to the members of The Shield, raising an eyebrow. Roman sneers at him before reaching out and roughly tagging himself in, Jinder relieved to slip back onto the apron as Ricardo enters the ring and pauses for a minute to exchange words with his employer before he returns to the apron, nodding quickly. It's over as soon as it begins, Ricardo turning, clearly expecting to see Jinder coming at him, but instead it's the dark blur of Roman Reigns barreling right at him, spearing him down to the mat.

Alberto freezes on the apron, his back to the action, when the bell ringing announces another elimination, Del Rio spinning around to find his ring announcer down, motionless on the mat, Reigns on top of him with a dark sneer on his face. "Ay dios mio," he snarls, staring at the muscle of The Shield with no lack of anger. It's clear that he wants in, wants revenge for Ricardo, but Mike grabs him before he can force his way through the ropes. "Let me go," he snaps.

"No," Mike commands attention, gripping his arm tightly. "Listen to me. Going in there now, when you're so angry, will do none of us- Ricardo especially- any favors. You want to try to get back at The Shield, right? Let one of us go in now," he orders, motioning to himself and his two best friends. "You can calm down some, focus your anger, and get in there later, when you won't get yourself DQ'd. Just... go check on Ricardo before they make him leave ringside."

Alberto closes his eyes, seeing Mike's logic, as painful as it is to admit. "Fine," he grouses. As he drops onto the floor to check on his ring announcer, Mike looks into the ring at the waiting Roman Reigns.

"Well-"

"I'm going in," Alex says before either of them could say anything. John and Mike both blink as he ducks through the ropes and stares at Roman, standing impassively. The man seems unimpressed with him, turning back to his corner and roughly tagging Jinder in before joining his other teammates. Alex rolls his eyes and crouches defensively, waiting for Jinder to finally enter.

When The Fun One makes it inside, Alex uses his momentum against him and scoops him up immediately in a slam, getting to his feet and kneeing him solidly between the shoulderblades. Jinder falls forward against the mat, groaning and complaining in Punjab, when Alex grabs him in a sleeper, wrapping his legs solidly around him so he can't get away as easily. It only lasts a minute or two, Jinder elbowing his way out of it after the referee counts a two, but it's enough to give Alex time to think and wears Jinder down some, his movements following that just a little slower, less coordinated.

Causes Mahal to miss wildly with a clothesline and opens him up to be scooped up for Alex's sit out powerbomb, followed up by a pin that achieves the three count. Alex laughs, rolling himself free, but has barely gotten back to his feet when all humor leaves him: the mentally off-balanced Dean Ambrose takes his turn, staring at the young man with deadened eyes. A-Ri swallows uncomfortably, flexing his fists, before deciding to just go for it. He's barely taken a step, however, when Dean's on him with punches and kicks, each strike landed vicious and leaving his ears ringing. He can distantly hear Mike and John calling out to him, but he can't do anything about it- one minute he's on his feet, the next he's being slammed face first into the mat, his whole body rattling at the impact, Ambrose all but laughing in his face as he pins him.

Miz and Morrison exchange uncomfortable glances, growing all too aware that the match is heading down to the wire now, them and Alberto against The Shield. As if sensing that they're thinking about him, the Mexican aristocrat chooses that moment to slide into the ring, staring at the three men. Dean smirks dismissively at him before turning to tag Roman in, he and Seth urging the big man to do to Del Rio what he'd done to his ring announcer.

Mike knows immediately that this is the wrong tack to take, only serving to anger the older man further. He paces back and forth in the ring, staring darkly at Reigns, his movements rough and jerky. Reigns, growing tired of being ignored, lunges after him, trying to take advantage of his apparent distraction, but Del Rio sidesteps and listens more than sees as the larger man rams into the turnbuckle, his pride smarting more than anything else when he once more goes after Alberto. As if waiting for this, Del Rio once more steps away but this time catches him in a drop toehold, using it to bridge Roman into a chinlock. The longer that they sit, Alberto wrenching back on his face, the more he remembers how dazed Ricardo had been when he'd dropped down to check on him, and he begins kneeing him in the sternum, unsurprised when the referee begins to count.

He's on three when Alberto looks up, finding Miz staring down at him with cool blue eyes, a demand lurking in their depths. He's not close with Mike, not like Ricardo is, but he can tell what that look means, especially after what Mike had told him earlier. For that reason, when he hears four, he releases the hold and kicks Roman away from him, standing up and glaring warningly at the other two members of The Shield as he ponders what else to do to his opponent. 3MB's status in the match hadn't been important to The Shield, but none of them doubts that, when it comes down to it, the two on the apron will get involved whenever the man in the ring is in danger. So it's Del Rio's turn to stare at Mike, and Morrison, until they seem to understand, nodding slightly while he turns back to the still recovering Reigns, kicking him solidly in the arm to weaken the appendage. He's just landed a second and third kick when there's two streaks of red over his head, Alberto glancing up in time to see the former tag champions tackling The Shield through the second rope to the outside, where the four of them lay tangled up in each other, Miz and Dean quickly exchanging blows as Seth and Morrison trade kicks.

Taking advantage of the opportunity this provides him, Del Rio resumes ramming his knee into and kicking Roman's arm, pausing when he's starting to get back to his feet to snap off another stiff enzuigiri to the side of the man's skull, stalling him once more. Although he enjoys weakening him slowly, the brutally abrupt way Reigns had taken Ricardo out of the match sticks with him and something comes to him finally. He glances from the ropes to his opponent before grabbing the arm he'd been working over the past few minutes, twisting it until Reigns begins to scramble to free it, knowing that he could easily dislocate it at this angle.

But Alberto is stubborn and determined to see this through, twisting and tearing on the already injured body part until Reigns follows, struggling to punch the quickly moving Mexican to get free. Nothing helps, however, and before long, Del Rio has him in the corner, bending his arm even further, ignoring his angry growls and desperate swipes that pound across Alberto's back in his attempts to get free. Climbing out of reach, the Mexican aristocrat holds his arm in the painful position while wrapping an arm around his face, holding him in place before he leaps forward, swinging around and dropping Roman head first into the mat before finally releasing his arm.

He checks to make sure that Miz and Morrison are still keeping the other members busy before rolling over and, holding Reigns' arm nearly in his usual submission hold, tweaking it just enough that he can feel how tense it is, he covers him and closes his eyes as the referee counts it, 1... 2... and the 3 feels like the first full breath of fresh air he'd had since Ricardo had been eliminated so suddenly.

He moves back against the corner, using the turnbuckle to stand back up and observe what's going on on the outside, laughing when Seth and Dean realize that their muscle'd been eliminated, Seth rolling into the ring, but before he can approach, Morrison makes his way inside and hits Rollins with a spinning kick, barely down on the mat for a moment before he makes it back to his feet, impressing even Del Rio, who motions him over to the apron.

John, guessing what he intends on doing, follows his directions, quickly tagging himself in to continue his and Seth's outside physicality. Finally the referee gets Miz and Dean's attention by threatening again to disqualify them both if they don't get to their corners, so Mike joins Del Rio to watch as Morrison and Seth face off, it hitting Miz yet again that this is the first time since late 2011 that his best friend has been in a WWE ring.

The two men exchange punches and kicks, John not seeming to miss a step, all of his Indy dates and the work he'd put into the OOYM fitness DVD sets seeming to be enough to keep his ring rust at bay. Miz half-smiles as John levels Seth with a enzuigiri before going to the top rope, landing a diving crossbody on him, burying him deep into the mat. Dean gets twitchy at the cover that follows, but Seth kicks out at 2, Mike shifting on the apron as he wonders how long those two can go at it, aware that John and Rollins had fought just as long on the outside as he and Ambrose.

John takes the opportunity while Seth's still down and, using the top rope for leverage, hits a springboard elbow drop, Seth choking and massaging his midsection as Morrison, tired of waiting, pulls him up-right and tries for a European uppercut, just for Seth to catch him and, surprising all of them, sends Morrison face first into the turnbuckles, dazing him. John staggers away, right into a forearm, which Seth follows up with a second, sandwiching John into the corner as Mike watches, unable to do anything without risking John's pride on what technically is his return match to the WWE.

When Del Rio moves like he's about to do something, Mike hesitantly stops him with a hand on his arm. "Wait," he mutters. "This is John's fight."

Alberto glances over, well versed in the pride most athletes abide by. "Si."

After another forearm that rattles John all the way down to his gums, he staggers out of the corner and turns in time to eat a clothesline, landing painfully on the mat. Seth reaches down to grab him, force him up to his feet once more, when John kicks him in the skull, an obvious act of desperation. But it gives them enough space as Seth falls back and shakes his head, glaring ahead just before- John hooks his arm around Seth and then moonsaults backwards, slamming the other into the mat roughly

Mike thinks people in the nosebleeds can probably see that Seth's looking disoriented after that, John untangling himself before climbing to the ropes in front of Mike. So many memories flash through his tag partner's head as John steadies himself up there, leaping back for the Starship Pain that lands securely across Seth's heaving chest, the pin that follows all but a formality as Dean slams his fists against the turnbuckle, now the only member of The Shield left. Pride before the fall, Mike thinks with a sneer as Seth is rolled out of the ring.

John seems willing to continue, even as the more fresh Dean enters the ring, but Mike calls out to him. "Hey! John!" When his tag partner turns around, Miz holds his hand out. Dean is the only one left and, somehow, it seems fitting to Mike that the leaders of the two teams go head to head. Not to mention, between Del Rio and Morrison both competing relatively recently, Mike is the freshest man currently out there. And this must register with John because he nods and accepts the tag, switching places with his best friend.

Mike stares across at Dean, his jaw tight as he tries to figure out where to begin. As Ambrose sneers across at him, he walks back and forth a bit, working his nerve up. Glancing over his shoulder for a moment at Del Rio and Morrison, he nods, squaring his shoulders. Let's do this thing. It might be stupid in hindsight but he does it, grabbing Dean in an impromptu lock up and, sure enough, regretting it immediately as the man elbows him roughly in the skull, dazing him.

He stumbles backwards and rubs at his temple, shaking his head to try to stop the ringing in his ears. That moment of hesitation is enough as Dean rushes forward and snaps a dropkick, sending him back against the ropes. He blinks a time or two, staring on as Morrison and Del Rio's voices call across to him, trying to get him back into it. No one's been able to really defeat The Shield, only Undertaker able to boast a victory against Ambrose, but even then, he'd been beaten down and taken out of action immediately afterwards. What am I going to do?

Glancing over again, Mike locks eyes with John, who nods at him, lips twitching up into a confident smile. Bolstered by even that small show of faith from his best friend, he knows he can't just give up. Not now, not this far into the match. When Dean lunges at him again, he ducks aside and kicks him in the legs, the back, anything he can think of as he tangles up in the ropes, trying to wait out Miz's melee. And he thinks it's working at holding the somewhat insane superstar at bay until Dean regains himself and grabs Mike by the neck, whiplashing his face against the top rope and sending him back hard against the mat.

As he writhes around, the referee checking on him, he wonders again what he could do to keep Dean down, how he's going to get back to his feet, he glances over to his corner and finds John and Alberto both still cheering him on or working at getting the crowd behind him.

Mike slowly makes it to his feet and stares at Ambrose's back, still not sure what to do to keep the off-balanced man down. The commentators love going on about how The Shield puts the team before the individual, he thinks, staring at Del Rio and Morrison through tired eyes. Maybe...

Working more on instinct than anything, Mike takes a breath and runs forward, clotheslining Ambrose clear out of the ring. He moves to join him, try to chain together some sort of offense, ignoring the referee's warnings, when Ambrose surprises him by getting to his feet in the blink of an eye. Before Miz can even think of anything else to do, he's snagged and dropped roughly to the floor below, his face and body throbbing at the impact of the move that had eliminated Alex earlier. He's groggy and disoriented, sure that it's over now, but Dean doesn't follow up.

Forcing his eyes open, Mike struggles to sit up, look around, feeling the mat he's sprawled across shifting. Brows furrowing, he finally regains some strength and looks up, uncoordinated and weary. He finds Del Rio standing at attention in front of him on the apron, Morrison running towards Ambrose and striking him in the side of the skull with a high knee, staggering him. They're not done, however, as Alberto follows it up with an enzuigiri that sends Ambrose into the table, the commentators quickly scattering.

John quickly turns to him and helps him to his feet, the referee's sharp commands echoing over their heads, but Morrison ignores him. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, still barely able to see as his vision wavers. John pats him on the back a time or two before joining Del Rio back on the apron, not wanting to raise the referee's ire any further. Staggering a bit, Miz finally grabs ahold of Dean and pulls him towards the ring but The Shield member swings out, striking a harsh blow to Mike's face, causing his vision to black out even more. He groans and winces, shaking his head in an attempt to regain control of himself. This has to end, he thinks.

They're still by the table, Miz barely able to see where he's at, much less anything else, when he responds with punches of his own, trying to continue what Del Rio and Morrison had begun. He senses more than sees as Ambrose finally staggers, fumbling around until he has ahold of his arm, moving him into position. When he hits his Skull Crushing Finale, he lands heavily next to him and twitches, unable to move, his reserves finally just tapped between Dean's finisher and the impact of his own on the floor.

He can hear John's voice faintly over the referee's count, but it's not enough. He can't move, he can barely blink. Either way, when the referee finally makes it to ten, both men counted out, Miz's team is deemed the victor anyway because Morrison and Del Rio hadn't been eliminated. Mike's fingers tighten against the blue mat he's once more sprawled across, somewhat relieved that at least they had beat The Shield in the end.

John joins him, hand warm on his shoulders, and he laughs, leaning closer so he can be heard. "Hey, Mike, we won," he says, tugging his tag partner into a sitting position and helping to support him. "Are you ok?"

"I think so," he murmurs, gripping John's shoulder as he tries to stand, oversee the aftermath of the match. Del Rio is walking towards the back already, probably anxious to check on his best friend, and Ambrose is long gone, leaving John and Mike alone to regroup as the crowd buzzes about the match. "Count out, huh?"

"Yeah. Sorry, man."

But Mike shakes his head, just glad that it's over, and their team had won in the end. "No, it's fine. Eliminated Ambrose at least, huh?" He groans, scrubbing at his face. "Skull Crushing Finale has never hurt me that much before..." John smiles a little and squeezes his neck, watching closely as he takes a step and another, heading for the ramp to reconnect with the other members of the team. "I'm ok."

"I know." But John continues to watch, staying close just in case. Thankfully Mike makes it all the way to the back on his own and they walk side by side to the trainer's office, unsurprised to find Del Rio there already, sitting next to Ricardo on a cot. Likewise, Zack and Alex share a couch, the trainer looking a little frazzled at them all converging on his room at once. Thankfully there's a second trainer's room across the building, where 3MB and The Shield- if they had gone there- are probably getting looked over, to keep from further fights breaking out between the two teams.

Mike settles in between Zack and Alex, barely blinking as the trainer begins checking him for a concussion. "You guys alright?" he asks the room in general, lips twitching as a chorus of confirmations come from all corners. "Good, good."

John remains on his feet, there not really being any room for him, and he smirks. "So how are we going to celebrate this?"

Mike wants to suggest sleep, certain that he's not the only one who feels like that amongst his teammates, but finally snarks, "By you telling us how you were allowed to compete here?"

John merely blinks, clearly expecting questions like that to come eventually. "Would you believe me if I told you it was AJ?"

The room goes quiet, still. Mike swallows. "What?" He looks around the room, taking in how all of them look surprised...except for Zack. He narrows his eyes at him. "You knew? That's why you've been acting weird the past few days?"

Zack shrugs. "I overheard some stuff, bro. I didn't think a lot of it, but yeah, that's why I stayed with Del Rio and Ricardo last night. I wasn't sure when he was going to show up."

Mike sighs, shaking his head. The situation was more than a little ridiculous, and could've gone badly a number of ways, but when he glances over at John, visibly waiting for him to blow up or overreact in some way, he feels all unhappiness fade from him. No matter how it'd happened, or why, John's here, they'd had a match together on the same side, and had won. He absolutely does not feel like worrying about whatever it is AJ is doing, especially now that he knows it's temporary and before long John will be gone back to California again.

Once the trainer finishes with them all, the room still subdued after John's explanation of the one-night only contract that AJ had provided him with, Mike sighs and stands. "C'mon, guys, let's go find some way to celebrate." None of them are up to much, he's sure, so it'll probably just be some lowkey diner for a quick meal and maybe a couple of drinks before they all go back to the hotel and pass out, but with Morrison by his side, even that sounds pretty awesome, considering.

He's just walked out into the hallway when he spots the girl who'd somehow taken it upon herself to set this all up. Mike breaks away from the group and approaches her, warily eying Ziggler and Big E as they lurk nearby, watching him suspiciously. "AJ."

She tilts her head, smirking up at him. "What do you want, Mike?"

"You convinced the board to allow John back? Just for this match?" He's not sure what to think about it. How to feel. He's sure many were making fun of him, coming just short of getting the needed six men for his team, and here the one he'd expected to laugh at his expense the hardest had actually done something to help.

She smirks at him, some unreadable emotion lingering in her dark eyes. "Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you. I did it to prove that I could, for myself. See, the fact that you were using me to rehire him wasn't the only thing that bothers me about that time- the fact I couldn't get him his job back also ate at me. And now, even if it was just temporary, I succeeded at getting him back in WWE." She callously turns her back on him, skipping back towards Ziggler and E. "It was never about you, Mike."

He swallows, watching her go, before shrugging and turning back to his uncomfortable, sympathetic looking friends. "Hey, come on, guys. Let's get out of here. I'm hungry." He's not, not after all of that, but it distracts them from what had just been said and that's good enough for him.

After some driving around, they find an out of the way place that serves decent enough burgers and most kinds of drinks with spacious, wrap around booths that all six of them fit in. Mike finds himself sandwiched between Morrison and Alex, Del Rio, Ricardo and Zack rounding out the other side of the table, and smiles, finding that, even if it's just for one night, things finally feel right again.