A/N:
Note for my guest reviewer: Hello. Again, I appreciate all of your reviews but it's impossible to respond to your comments when you're reviewing as a guest; if you review while logged in, I could send you PMs to respond directly. Anyway, I hope you see this. My bonus stories, such as "When It Sleeps", are just that: Bonus. They're not connected to the story, they're just extra things I write every 30 chapters, or on the fic's anniversary (such as today) that contain the same characters but won't affect the usual BtB plots. Stand-alone story type things. This story here is another one. If you have any other questions, please let me know and thank you for the review.
It hadn't been that long ago that The Shield had self-destructed, all caused by its architect, Seth Rollins. He had planted the seeds to activate the killswitch for his creation, and when the time came that he was ready to push it, he did so with no hesitation or sense of nostalgia. It was good, great even, to be away from the mold that he had built for them, preparing to push away and create his own persona, be his own person in the business, not defined by Roman Reigns or Dean Ambrose's actions, limited by their overshadowing personalities or match stylings. He had his own way of speaking, of acting, of fighting, but none of it seemed to matter much in the overwhelming actions of his 'brothers'.
And ordinarily he would've been fine to let them crash and burn with their temporary tag partners, until they'd finally accepted that there was no one who could replace him, but then the article on had happened, suggesting six possible replacements in The Shield, as if Seth Rollins could ever be replaced by anyone. And he had found himself staring at it far longer than he should, its verbage disturbing him. How he had honestly been compared against any one of the six men on the website, he's not sure. But it's ridiculous and leaves him gritting his teeth the longer he skims it, anger boiling in his veins. Most are worthless wanna-bes, one hadn't been in the business for close to three years, and the others are still in developmental on NXT, where he had been champion long before any of them had even been considered for a developmental contract. He's light years above all of them.
He finally turns his phone off and stares up at the arena, a thoughtful look on his face. This'll take planning, but he'll figure it out. First things first, though. HHH wants him to do an interview to explain why he did what he did, though he doesn't feel like he deserves anyone anything, but HHH had been his easiest way out of being stuck in The Shield's overwhelming shadow, so he resolves to do it, get it over with.
Then he'll plan on how best to handle that article...
Miz sighs as he opens his eyes, glancing over at AJ. Leaning over to kiss her, he smiles before wandering off to the bathroom to get ready for the day. One of those rare days with no media, no WWE events, the two of them have plans to do nothing but stay at home and relax, explore the beach around where they'd gotten married, and go visit Morrison later. He's been looking forward to this opportunity for awhile, missing his wife but understanding her needing time off. Though he hadn't expected it to be for this long, but if she needs it, then he can't deny her. No matter how much he misses her.
He's just finished brushing his teeth when she slinks up behind him, trailing her hands up his abs as she presses kisses in the middle of his back, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Morning, sweetheart," he murmurs.
She beams against him, kissing his spine once more before pressing close to his arm, staring at him in the mirror. "Morning." He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head, enjoying the sight of her so close to him. "I love days like today," she murmurs, standing on her tippy toes and kissing him on the lips. He smiles and lifts her up, sitting her on the counter before parting her knees and easing between her legs, pausing to absorb how well they fit together.
He brushes his fingers through her hair, lightly kissing her eyes down her cheeks to her lips, sighing as she presses her fingers against his jaw, holding him in place as she digs her feet into his thighs. "I love you."
She hums into his mouth and scrapes her nails down his back, smirking as he arches deeper into her, her eyes fluttering. "I love you too."
Seth stares at the printed copy he'd made of the WWE article, every word about this guy, that guy, the other guy, and how well they could replace him eating at him. He sneers as he scrunches the paper up, meticulously straightening it back out. "I created The Shield," he whispers. "There's no way in hell they could replace me with anyone, and if they honestly think I'm gonna let 'em try... Yeah." He rocks back and forth on his feet, smirking angrily. Pulls his phone closer, starts research on who is who, where they're at, what they're doing.
"Hm, developmental, blahblah, blah... fired, injured." He rests his jaw in his hand and stares blankly at the list. "Yes, what a fine set of choices to be my replacement. All meaningless, all weak." He sneers. "Sounds about right for Ambrose and Reigns... not that they'll have the chance." He looks up at the Welcome to Orlando sign stretching over the airport wall and laughs out loud, ignoring anyone who stops to look at him. "Let's get this party started then."
There's absolutely no hesitation in his step as he walks towards the exit, only a small bag thrown over his shoulder to hold him through the duration of this short visit.
Mike squeezes AJ's hand as she peers at the menu of the Italian restaurant they had somehow talked John into meeting them at, smiling at her. He knows the options well enough to not need the menu, but she's still new to the area so she takes her time trying to select, humming softly with the music tinkling through the dining room. Her soft white sundress looks beautiful and he had purposely stared warningly at the conceirge when his lips had parted at the sight of her tennis shoes, the man wisely closing his mouth and taking them back to their table with nothing more than a promise to bring the waiter over to take their drink order while they wait for the rest of their party. She had noticed, he could tell by the slow, soft kiss she had given him once they were alone, her hand warm against his cheek.
When John arrives, the conceirge barely looks at any of them as he leads him back, quickly bustling off to the front to wait for the next reservation and Mike laughs at the goofy expression John makes at the man's departing figure. "What did you two do to him?"
Mike laughs and kisses AJ's knuckles, the girl barely looking up from the list of foods. "Let's just say he doesn't understand our fashion sense."
John smirks, staring down at his own eclectic choice of white jacket, red shirt with black swirls, and black pants. "Well. I bet he loved mine then. Not that you're much better, Mike." Their suits are oddly inversed versions of each other, Mike wearing a black jacket with red dots and a crisp white shirt underneath. They chuckle together before Mike leans in and kisses AJ's throat as she leans instinctively into him, momentarily distracted from the menu. "Having trouble picking something to eat, AJ?"
"Yes," she grouses, pouting slightly as she looks up at her husband's former tag partner. "It all looks good."
"We can both order something and split it, if you want," Mike suggests to her. "I like everything here so you can choose two of whichever you want, I'll be good with it. Then I'll take half of yours, and you can take half of mine." She immediately looks more cheerful, nodding as she once more pours over the list. "If John wants to be helpful, he can order a third and we can make a little teaser platter so the LA newbie among us can try a little bit of all three things."
"Sure, that's fine," he shrugs. "I already agreed to eat carbs, so why not this too." Mike smirks at him, the two of them watching AJ as she picks three things off of the menu, finding it a little more easier with the extra options. "You owe me, Mike. But I guess this can't be any worse than a burger joint."
"Eh, a little real food won't kill you. You'll have it all burned off in a couple of work outs anyway, so why not? Rewarding yourself a little bit sometimes is alright." Mike sips from his glass of iced water before tipping it towards John. "But I'll keep it in mind you'd prefer a burger joint next time. We can go all out, burgers and fries, chocolate milk shakes... it'll be great." As John rolls his eyes, Mike laughs and nudges his ankle with his dress shoe, glancing over as the waiter joins them and waits patiently while AJ reads out to him the three things they'd be ordering, scribbling it down on the pad he has in hand. When he glances at Mike and John to confirm that's what they want, they merely nod at him, relieved when he walks off to place their orders so the three of them could resume talking and teasing each other, AJ's head resting on Mike's shoulder as he plays with her hair.
None of them realize it's the calm before the storm.
The first inkling comes when Mike arrives at Raw that week to hear whispers, suspicion lurking in every gaze. Some at him, most elsewhere. He's still invisible after his time off, barely noticed by anyone. He hasn't been on TV since filming Marine 4, and that's fine. Gives him time to readjust to everything that's changed since he left, everything that's remained the same. Time to listen to gossip and absorb the new vibe in the arenas, spend time with Alex and Ricardo. So he heads off to find them now, curious about what's happened. Alex turns sharply when he approaches, instinctively stepping in front of Ricardo to protect him from whatever might be coming and Mike frowns, not liking the look on his face as Ricardo's fingers curl around his arm to hold him back. "What's going on, guys? What's wrong?"
"Sorry, Mike," Alex mumbles, relaxing slightly upon realizing who it is approaching. "It's just... we, uh, learned earlier today that one of the guys out in developmental was attacked over the weekend. You've heard of Adrian Neville?" Mike nods vaguely, thinking the name sounds familiar- NXT's champion, if he recalls correctly. "He was found bloodied and bruised... it sounded like..." He winces, glances around suspiciously before lowering his voice so much so that Mike has to strain just to hear him. "Like something The Shield used to do." They all fall silent, thinking about how long it's been since there's been such a beatdown, the three men either turning their focus away from letting their voices be heard in backstage confrontations and in-ring ambushes, choosing instead to take it out on The Wyatts or Evolution up until Seth had left the other two floundering in a spree of chair shots.
"So everyone is kind of jumpy right now," Ricardo tells him, stepping around Alex to look at his friend. "But don't worry, I won't let Alex hurt you."
"Haha," Mike deadpans as Alex rolls his eyes, poking his roommate in the side as he laughs at them. "Like he really ever could."
"Hey, there was a time or two-"
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mike whistles innocently as he heads down the hallway, Alex following him, determined to remind him of their feud a couple of years ago. Ricardo watches them go, shaking his head fondly, before remembering why exactly it's more likely than not to be alone right now and bustling to catch up with them.
Seth flexes his wrists, ignores how his knuckles still sting. Who knew, beating someone down solo would take so much more effort than doing it with two others... But he shakes the thoughts away and turns back to his laptop, staring once more at the article. "Yeah," he breathes. "Comin' your way next..." He slams the laptop away and stands up, seeing no reason to wait. An ugly, evil smirk covers his face as he dusts his hands off on his pants and marches through the halls to find where the man he's looking for loosens up before a match. Ignoring everything, including the vast size difference between them, he finds a chair and clutches it close, cleaning and unclenching his fingers around it as he continues his search.
The man is doing squats just off of the parking lot, his muscles gleaming with sweat and Seth reconsiders for just a second, unable to help being a little intimidated by him. Shaking it off, he squares his shoulders and makes his move, stealthy, quietly... sneaks up on his target and slams the weapon off of his spine, knocking him off balance and, with his second, third, fourth shot, sends him into the concrete and again, and again, until Big E is motionless at his feet and he hears running footsteps heading their way. "You'll never be good enough to take my place in anything," he tells him darkly, throwing the chair down not far from him and rushing off to find somewhere to lurk, wait for another opportunity.
Which comes sooner than he expected. The running footsteps are none other than Dolph Ziggler and he smirks, recognizing another of his targets. "Well, well," he whispers, his good luck continuing as he spots a length of chain and, wrapping it around his wrist, ventures out to approach the Show Off, evil intentions gleaming in his dark eyes as he considers how best to get his weapon of choice, the steel chair, back.
The news spreads quickly. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the attacks, at least so it seems, but something about it clicks with Mike. The men being targetted, the order, something about it seems familiar but he can't just place it. That is, until Cody Rhodes is found next, unconscious and twitching outside of the main locker room, breathing roughly through a yet once more broken nose, more bruises and cuts scattered along his face. It's then that it clicks with him, his breath forced from him harshly. "No way," he mumbles, quickly finding what he needs on his phone.
AJ sidles up close to him and peers at the screen, frowning. "What's wrong, Mike? Did you hear about another attack or something?"
He shakes his head, holding it so she can see. "Look," he mumbles. She tilts her head, staring at it, and it's clear when it registers with her too. "If this article is why these guys are being targetted..."
"The next guy on the list is Morrison," she breathes, eyes wide with shock as he immediately stuffs his phone in his pocket and begins to move, throwing things in his bag hastily. "I gotta get out of here," he says breathlessly. John is a few hours away from LA, filming establishing shots for Boone the Bounty Hunter, and Mike can only imagine- somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with very few people around, just the crew and limited cast for this movie. It's the perfect place for an attack. He worries his lip, still tossing things at his bag that he thinks he may need. "Dammit, I'm not even sure where John's at..." He whistles through his teeth, still rushing around, when he realizes that AJ is on her phone. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asks, stopping short.
She puts the phone down after scribbling something on a nearby piece of paper and turns to him, holding it out to him. "Do you remember when John teased you by giving you the card for the production company that's been handling Boone and Hercules? Well, I found it and called them, explaining that it's an emergency and we need to find him, so they told me where they're shooting at today."
He stares at her, takes the paper, and skims the address for a moment. "AJ, I love you," he mutters, grabbing her and spinning her around. "God, what would I do without you?"
"Well, luckily you never have to find out," she tells him sweetly. "But... all I ask is that you be very careful." He kisses her fingers as she strokes his lips. "Promise?"
"I promise. But I have to get to John before he's attacked too." He leans into her and softly kisses her, stroking her hair. "Don't worry, I'll be ok. Together, John and I can handle whatever this is."
"I hope so," she sighs, following him to the door and kissing him before he dashes out to the car where, with one last wave at her, he backs up and peels off, desperate to find his best friend and make sure he's safe.
It's a long drive, seems unending, and by the time he finally spots the place AJ had described in her notes, it's almost nighttime, only a small sliver of sun visible in the distance. He can barely see and he wonders for a moment if maybe John and the crew's already gone, but no... there are trucks all over the place, and abandoned cameras. A shiver of unease trails down his spine and he forces his car up the valley across the small road, struggling to get up the steep, uneven hill that follows, leads up past where the abandoned equipment is. It's not going to make it, clearly, so he stops to regain his bearings, maybe... Then his eyes widen as they rest on an idling truck not that far away. He wonders whose it is, but that matters little as he gets out of his car and, locking it over his shoulder, races over to the vehicle. There's no one inside or around it, so he slips inside of it and tests it, relieved to find that it's eager to run, zipping across the terrain like it's nothing.
He's almost at the other side of the hill when he spots something- the clear shape of a human standing over something. He kills the engine quickly and gets out, racing across the shadowy dust-choked ground to make it over there, the lights of the truck just enough for him to recognize the other man- the blond streak breaking up the monotony of otherwise black hair giving him away. "Rollins!" he yells, it all suddenly making sense. He skids to a stop again though, when he realizes that the former SHIELD member is holding onto a steel chair.
Seth laughs, turning towards him. "Whatcha going to do, Miz? Huh?" He sneers when Mike's eyes flicker down into the gloom, his breath forced from his lungs when he realizes that it is indeed John sprawled out on the ground, barely moving.
"Get away from him," he commands, taking a step closer. He stops short, however, when Seth presses the cool, brutal steel of the chair against Morrison's throat, the man starting to struggle and scramble to get the weapon off of his windpipe, to take a breath. "Stop it."
"Like you're going to stop me," Seth laughs derisively, grounding the heel of his boot against Morrison's abs, drawing more oxygen from his lungs. "Try it... C'mon, Miz. Prove to me that some brothers are worth it... prove to me-" He cuts himself off as Mike does rush him then, unable to stand listening to John's desperate gasps and scrambles without trying something, anything. Lifts the chair and swings it, only just missing as Mike ducks, slides past him and catches himself on John, lifting him and trying to drag him under his shoulders, his dead weight counteracting Miz's desperation so thoroughly that he barely gets him shifted upwards before Seth is on him again, his boot missing Miz's skull by mere inches.
"Dammit!" he curses, scrambling backwards and dropping John back onto the ground. As he shifts backwards, his hand snags something hard and metal and he wonders for a wild moment if maybe Morrison had been trying to defend himself but couldn't overcome Seth, but it's irrelevant as he snags the hard steel and draws it towards him. Crow bar, he realizes, spinning it in his hand before sending it out in an arc towards the other man, unsurprised when he does the same with the chair, their weapons crashing together and Mike collapses to one knee, the steel chair slamming into him and leaving him gasping for air, but he realizes quickly that the bars of the chair is tangled up in the curved edge of the crow bar. Holding on with everything in him, he tugs back, slowly getting to his feet, and he thinks for a minute that Seth looks fearful.
"Let go!"
"No," Mike grunts, bracing his feet in the dirt and pulling with everything in him... Seth struggles and curses in turn, the last bit of sun disappearing completely and leaving them in the aftershock of twilight, when Mike throws himself backwards, sending himself into the dust, yes, but shocking Seth to the point that the chair is torn out of his grip. It's Mike's turn to laugh now as he stands up, the chair supporting him on one side and the crow bar on the other, hovering over him, vicious determination in his blue eyes. "You're gonna pay now..." But as soon as he strikes out, he knows it's too late. Seth scrambles away before he can hit, disappearing into the darkness, and Mike sighs, sinking to his knees and dropping the chair and crowbar out of his lifeless fingers, closing his eyes. He wants nothing more than to sleep, right here, right now... But John's strained gasp not far away revives him, reminds him of what he's here for. "I'm here, man, you're safe," he mutters, trying to reconcile himself to pulling both of them to their feet and getting them all the way back to the truck, then driving them back to LA. "Why the hell did you have to do these shots so far away from civilization?" he gripes half-heartedly, clapping John on the leg. "Come on, let's get this show on the road..."
After somehow piecing together the strength to get himself up, and pulling John up as well, making sure to drag the weapons along with them just in case, Mike winces through his own aches and pains as he supports John over to the 4-wheel drive truck, breathing heavily as John struggles to regain consciousness. "Hey, welcome back to the land of the living, man," he mutters, John shifting to look at him.
"Mike?"
"Yep."
He fights to make sense of his best friend being here, blinking sluggishly as he's settled into the passenger's side, a seatbelt being clicked into place around him. "You came all this way just to make sure I was ok?"
Mike huffs. "Yeah, right, John. Always so full of yourself... I clearly came here to make sure that Seth Rollins wouldn't have a chance at getting his hands on Daniel Bryan." John stares at him, confused, when Mike lightly clips him on the shoulder. "Of course I came here to help you out, idiot. We're always going to be tag team partners, even if you're not wrestling fulltime anymore. You're stuck with me."
"Yay," John mutters wearily, closing his eyes against the headrest.
"Damn straight, yay," Mike sighs, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Just rest, we'll have you home before you know it."
"Yeah, that sounds good." John's eyes flutter again. "Mike? Thanks..."
He pauses before slamming the door shut and looks at his friend with a vague smile. "You're welcome, man. Any time."
He's not sure if that'll be enough to scare Seth off of targetting those listed in that Shield replacement article, but for now... it's just going to have to do. He sighs and, after stuffing the chair and crowbar in the back, drives off to get them to his car, wanting nothing more than to make his way towards the bright, comforting lights of Los Angeles just visible from this hill.