"They seriously didn't call you back to do commentary this week?" Mike asks, cringing as he talks to Alex on the phone, the younger man opting to stay in Florida this week for the Performance Center opening. "That sucks, man. I'm sorry."
Alex breathes in. "Yeah, I mean... I was enjoying it, but I guess R-Truth has that honor this week." He laughs mirthlessly. "Ricardo and I both only lasted two weeks. Guess even if you had chosen me, it would've still ended the same way."
Mike sighs, feeling horribly for him but not knowing what to say. "Kid..."
"It's alright," he shrugs. "Maybe they'll give me another try down the road. We'll see, right?"
"Yeah. Never say never and all of that fun stuff," Mike says, glaring over at Josh Mathews as he motions at him, wanting to go over notes for the night's show. "Hey, kid, I have to go. I'll call you later, ok?"
"Sure, Mike. Talk to you then."
After he hangs up with a grimace, he and Josh have a quick discussion about the show, which starts shortly afterwards. It's the first time he's seen first hand Dolph Ziggler come out without AJ or Big E and it takes everything in him to not sneer or laugh audibly into his headset.
His attempts at being professional throughout the match goes to the wayside, briefly, when the conversation turns to AJ and that whole situation, how Ziggler and her had appeared to forgiven each other. "Is that a good thing, though?" he asks without thinking, relieved when Josh doesn't respond. He halfheartedly tries to explain away what he said, but he doubts it works, hoping that she's not paying attention to his words wherever she might be at. Thankfully from that point on, he's able to keep his focus on anything but the girl who seemed to take great pleasure in these games she always played with various men in the business, until it backfired on her, and the rest of the show goes by quickly enough.
He gets off of the desk and walks back to the locker room to change to leave, passing by Dolph on his way. They stare at each other for a moment, Mike expressionless and unimpressed as Ziggler smirks at him, making no move to say or do anything towards him. He wonders what the bleach blond superstar would do or say if he ever found out about how close he and AJ had come, until Mike himself had destroyed everything between them. He walks past quickly, not wanting to dwell on that thought. After all, for all he knew, Dolph was already aware and it hadn't mattered to him...
"Mike, look," Alex demands, distracting his former protege from getting ready for his upcoming match against Ryback.
"What?" he asks, looking up in time to see Axel completely losing it at ringside, trashing the commentary desk and whatever else he can get his hands on, Heyman succeeding very little at controlling his client. He laughs. "Whoa, sore loser much?" His Money in the Bank opponent had just lost by count out to Jericho, his second loss in a week to the man. He has to wonder how well that'll help him out come Sunday, but for now he has to focus on his own match against Ryback... his strategy very close to what it had been last week. "Target the leg," he mumbles aloud, pressing down on the wrist tape as he stands and slaps Alex on the back. "See you later, kid."
"Yep, good luck."
Mike nods absently before heading out for the ring, now cleared of Axel and all of that mess. If he had had more time, he would've come out and mocked Axel, but he needs to keep his head on straight anyway. And he's glad he made that decision, the much larger man still showing some weakness in his leg, but it a fight just for Miz to keep his head above water. No matter how he struggles, no matter how Ryback complains about pain in his knee, or claims that he felt something pop, he ultimately gains the victory against Miz.
Mike lays there and stares up at the lights, uncertain how it'd happened all so quickly. He suspects he'd walked in with too much confidence, as he's known to do, but... but... He thought he'd had it, had tried to do everything right. Groaning faintly to himself, he rolls out of the ring and begins the long, painful trip back up the ramp. Alex meets him there and helps him back to the locker room, patting him on the back in silent sympathy. A thoroughly demoralizing loss like this, against an injured opponent, so close to a pay per view championship match... No matter how Axel may be losing it right now, it's not the greatest circumstance to be in. He swallows harshly and closes his eyes, shaking his head against A-Ri's shoulder. "Dammit," he mumbles wearily.
After he sleeps off some of the soreness, he spends the rest of the weekend pondering. With Heyman out there, he's already at a distinct disadvantage, the man somehow able to talk his clients into victories, not to mention distracting to opponents and referees alike. "How to get rid of him," he mumbles thoughtfully. He taps the eraser of his pencil against the sheet of paper he'd been idly scribbling over while lost in thought, eyes narrowing as a smirk crosses his lips. "Got it..."
His plan works, on a base level. The referee believes that Heyman attacked him, sending him backstage, leaving Axel alone to deal with Mike, but no matter how hard the former WWE champion fights, Axel continues to find ways to keep the advantage, finally defeating Miz and taking away his hopes at regaining the Intercontinental Championship... again. He drops an arm over his eyes and breathes heavily, wincing. Two losses in forty eight hours... "No," he mutters, slamming his fist against the mat yet again before starting another walk of shame up the ramp, as a loser.
But he doesn't have the worst night of them all, somehow. He's watching blankly, eyes dark and bland, as Del Rio and Ziggler go back and forth for the World Title, his disgust growing as it seems time and again that the Show Off will walk away with the win- until... AJ's music randomly hits and, fresh off of retaining her title against Kaitlyn, she skips around the ring, distracting Dolph. He looks far from pleased until trying to turn his attention back to Del Rio, though AJ keeps succeeding at taking his focus away from his opponent with her antics around the ring. It's not until Del Rio has succeeded at kicking him in the skull in a manner reminicent to Payback, Ziggler only just dodging one to set up the ZigZag, that AJ enters the ring for whatever reason and clocks Alberto in the skull with her diva's title, dropping him immediately as the ref calls for the bell.
Mike blinks as Alex tilts his head next to him, both of them uncertain what they just saw. "Did she just...?"
Del Rio is still motionless for a moment, dazed, but Dolph reacts instantly, yelling at her and going frantic as he pleads with the referee, so close to hitting his finisher and seeing the match to a conclusion before it'd all been taken away by AJ's actions. The referee has no choice, however, handing over the title to the stirring Mexican Aristocrat, who only questions for a moment what happened before exiting the ring quickly, title held protectively in his arms as he dashes up the ramp, laughing at his opponent as Dolph once more rounds on AJ, screaming at her. Finally Dolph leaves and Mike watches while AJ stands alone, eyes filling with tears as her face crumbles.
"Holy crap," Alex mumbles.
"Yeah," Mike agrees lowly, wondering what will happen next. As the camera pulls in close to her devastated face, he swallows and looks away. The expression on her face is too similar to the look she'd had when he had confessed about using her to get Morrison his position in the company back...
Mike and Alex stand side by side, staring at the match board. Alex doesn't look surprised at the lack of his own name, but Mike swallows, shaking his head. Yes, he had lost the night before for the millionth time that he'd tried for the Intercontinental title, but... to keep him completely off of the card... He turns to look at his former NXT rookie. "Hey, you wanna come with me? I have a bone to pick with Maddox."
Alex winces before shaking his head. "No, that's ok. I think I'll be hearing enough from him this evening... Guess I'll go check catering with Zack. I'll see you later."
Mike watches as he walks off with a sigh, understanding his disinterest in even trying to talk to the GM any more. He himself had done it time and again in the past to little success, and Mike has no doubt that it'll be any different with Brad... but he has to try. Finding his way to the office, he knocks determinedly and enters when Brad calls him in.
"Oh, Miz," the new GM greets him, blinking. "What can I do for you?"
Mike stares at him, sneering a bit. Whereas AJ had at least tried to be a good GM before that whole Cena mess had come out, he doubts that Brad will be effective at all. Which, considering how Vince had talked about his own decision the week prior, he imagines that that was the point. "Why don't I have a match tonight?"
As Brad begins to stumble, explaining something about time running short that evening, and a whole number of other excuses, Mike listens half-heartedly, peering around at the various posters for movies and the magazine scattered around the office. "But, uh, but- yeah, I'll assign a match for you on, let's see, Superstars, how does that sound?" he asks, voice squeaking a little on the last word when cool blue eyes refocus on him. "And, uh, and... I'll talk to Teddy Long about- um, about MizTV on Smackdown. Good? Yeah?" He laughs awkwardly as Mike rolls his eyes and turns to leave, far from impressed but knowing if he stays much longer, he'd just punch Maddox in the face and that'd get none of them nowhere. No matter how frustrated he is, he'd rather not join Ricardo on the suspension list, though that might allow him to visit the ring announcer and see for himself how he's doing instead of hearing it second hand from Alex, or stuck to phone calls whenever he finds a minute.
He ultimately joins Alex and Zack in catering, grabbing a plate of marble cake that someone- probably 3MB- had brought along for Heath Slater. "How'd it go?" Alex asks as he sits down next to them. When he just grunts and stuffs a huge forkful of the cake into his mouth, it being the only thing keeping him from screaming, both men look on sympathetically. "That good, huh? Sorry, man."
Zack sighs and rests his jaw in his hand. "Welcome to the group, bro."
They fall silent then, a monitor in the corner showing what's happening with the show, and they all watch quietly as Dolph walks through the halls, heading to the ring for his rematch against Del Rio, when AJ intercepts him, pleading and begging once more for him to talk to her, and he does, telling her that he's past the night before. She takes it to mean he's forgiven her, but he doesn't return her hug and Mike pauses midbite, watching as she slowly pulls back, staring up at him. He reinforces that they're broken up, leaving her once more in tears. "That's not gonna end well," he mumbles around a mouthful of cake crumbs.
"You think, bro?" Zack asks, face twisting with some worry as he examines the easily deranged girl on the TV, pondering what it could mean for his sometimes friend-rival-enemy all rolled up into one depending on the day.
Mike doesn't say it, but he knows. And sure enough, just when it looks like Ziggler might be once more nearing victory against Del Rio, the unexpected sound of the bell ringing echoes through the arena. The referee looks confused, waving it off that he hadn't called for it, Dolph rolling away from Alberto to look. It of course is AJ, standing at the timekeeper's area, ringing the bell, which allows Alberto to take advantage and kick Dolph solidly in the skull before rolling him up to retain the title. Once more dashing out of the ring, belt held tightly in tow, he rushes up the ramp as AJ enters the ring and screams at Dolph that he'd broken her heart, solidly slapping him repeatedly.
He's just pushed her off, his back to the front of the ring, when Big E appears out of nowhere and lays him out, leaving him motionless on the mat as AJ drops to her knees, painfully stroking his hair back before kissing him a very short, bitter goodbye, allowing his head to slam against the mat before leaving, Big E right behind her. She's barely half up the ramp when her face crumbles again, tears filling her eyes as she sobs.
Catering is quiet and tense afterwards, Mike stabbing his fork moodily into what remains of his cake as Zack finds his way to his feet. "Be back later, bros," he mumbles, probably going off to check on Ziggler.
Disgusted, Mike pushes his plate away and stands too. "I need some air." Not waiting for Alex to offer to follow, he heads outside at a quick walk and leans against the door, breathing in deeply. It's a nice night, considering how bad things are inside, the breeze soft and cool against his flushed skin, but he can't properly enjoy it. Sinking down against the wall of the building, he stares out at cars driving by on the street, bright red lights casting a glow on the pavement as they go. He's still sitting there when the door slams open next to him and he jerks aside, the person storming out into the darkness unaware of him even being there. It's obvious who it is before his eyes even adjust to the darkness once more, the light pouring from the arena door dazing him all over again.
AJ stands a few feet away from him, hands held in tense fists at her sides. "WHY?!" she screams out into the night sky, folding in half at the energy draining cry. "WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAPPEN?" Her words turn into broken sobs as she drops onto her knees, Mike wincing at the sound of impact against the pavement. "Why... why does no one love me?" Her words turn subdued, quiet, broken, and Mike feels his chest ache for her. "Daniel, Punk, Kane, Cena, Mike... now Ziggly," she wails. "He was supposed to be different, he was- he supposed to be the one. He was supposed to never leave!"
It sounds like she's approaching hyperventilation, slamming her fists against the dark concrete, and Mike is starting to worry for her, wondering where Big E is at. Unable to watch much more of this, he makes his way to his feet and walks over to her, not touching her or saying a word as he hovers there. She sniffs and finally freezes, looking up through tear-filled eyes, unable to see who exactly it is with her in the darkness. He sighs and leans down, scooping her up and adjusting his hold on her, marveling once more at just how little she is before making sure she's secure as he heads back to the building, relieved when she begins to respond, wrapping her arms around his neck, her cries muffled into his merch shirt.
He's not sure where to go with her once he's inside, sure that Big E will come and knock him out at any moment for even looking twice at her, but ultimately his feet take him to the trainer's office, aware that her knees and hands have to be killing her by now. He takes a deep breath and kicks the door open, ignoring the trainer as he follows him around, demanding what happened. He stares ahead blankly as he stops next to the cot, leaning over and carefully depositing the petite woman down on the padded surface. When he stands up straight and looks back down at her, he's floored and subdued to find she'd cried herself to sleep in his arms, his eyes heavy with sympathy and always present guilt as he stares at her. No matter what she'd done to him over the past few months since his admission, her pain is choking and horribly raw, and he can feel it even now, the tears still clinging to her eyelids as she frowns in her sleep.
He sighs and closes his eyes, gently stroking the hair out of her face. "You're gonna be ok." Turning to the trainer, he raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to say anything. "Check her knees and hands out thoroughly." He's just left the room when he looks up to find Alex outside waiting for him. "What?"
He swallows and claps a hand on Mike's shoulders. "She alright?" He hesitates and nods, Alex's lips twitching into a small smile. "Good, man. We're wanting out at the entrance ramp to hear Cena's big decision. C'mon."
"Yippee," he mumbles, following him out though he has no doubt that the decision won't be him, or anyone he necessarily cares about. Sure enough, it's Daniel Bryan and, although he's somewhat happy for the former member of Team Hell No, he has too much to think about, consider, worry over, to really care in the long run.