Mike has a week to stew. To weigh both Morrison and Ciampa's decisions. To come up with some decisions of his own, on his own. He keeps it to himself while he plays with the kids, he doesn't say a word while he and AJ talk about their lives, the kids, wrestling, everything and anything in between.
First moment he arrives at the arena Monday, he goes to Adam Pearce's office, and demands a rematch with Ciampa. It's granted, and he's somewhat amused as he walks back down the hallway. Everyone expects a normal match, expects Ciampa to kick his ass, leave him laying all over again, just because of no texts for nine months, what kind of friend are you?!
Well, he's always been a shit friend. All Tommaso would've had to do would be ask Morrison. Ask Alex Riley, Damian Sandow, R-Truth, Shane McMahon, a thousand other partners and friends and whatever else he's left facedown in the dirt over the years. Maybe, he thinks, maybe George wasn't too wrong when he would make his comments, maybe he always saw the cruel, weak man that Mike actually was inside, ready and willing to do anything to get ahead, no matter who or what it would cost him in the long run.
So Ciampa is also expecting another match like last week, but that's far from something Mike's willing to put up with, and he attacks first. Takes Ciampa down, targets his hip, makes sure to leave him helpless and gasping in pain before going back for another couple of cheap blows.
This sort of thing doesn't make him feel better or worse any more, just a strange kind of emptiness because, well, it's not the first time, it probably won't be the last time when a friendship disintegrates and is left with him, or his partner, or both of them, defenseless and in pain.
It's just happenstance that it's usually him walking away from former friends writhing in agony on the ground behind him, but he's relieved for it. Even when his phone rings almost the instant he's back in his locker room and he's not terribly surprised to see AJ's name flashing at him. He answers, waits a second, but before he can even speak, her voice echoes back at him.
"What is going on, Mike? What was the purpose of all that?"
And just like that, it all comes rushing back to him- his feelings, his thoughts, his plans. The last fifteen minutes feel like a distant memory. All he can do is breathe in and out deeply, not an ounce of guilt in the varied rush of emotions he's feeling right now. "Self preservation."