The Elimination Chamber is looming ever closer. It leaves everything tense, anxious for what may be on the horizon. There's been enough injuries lately, too much drama. There's a sense of foreboding in the air backstage at Raw, but they all know what they're doing. The show's starting off with the gauntlet match, so Mike prepares, changes into his gear, starts stretching and doing whatever he can do to get himself ready for the match.
Once it starts, however, he sits with Heath, Rhyno, Axel and Bo, and just watches. Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns starts off, and he expects Roman to defeat his brother as easily as he did at Royal Rumble, but that's not in the plans this evening apparently. Even when Seth lands wrong and starts favoring his hip, it's not enough and he defeats Roman. "Wow," Heath mumbles breathlessly, Mike nodding a little.
Cena is a struggle. Of course, he's fresh while Seth's been wrestling for well over 20 minutes already, but no matter what Cena attempts, Seth continues to claw and scratch, working against his own body's weaknesses and fighting back with everything he has. Somehow, someway, he defeats Cena as well and Mike finds himself exhaling in amazement. Beating one of them is impressive enough on its own, but both? His eyes narrow as he thinks about what this means for Sunday, the kind of fight Seth will put up when things actually matter, not just some random gauntlet match.
It distracts him, barely noticing even when Elias takes advantage of his exhaustion and pins Seth, or when things continue on with Finn defeating Elias. This means it's Mike's turn and he hurries out, the Miztourage accompanying him, and the dance begins all over again. Mike's intelligence gives him the upperhand and he eventually gets the pin with some help from Bo and Axel. He's smirking, proud of himself, until... realization dawns and he looks over as Braun Strowman makes his way to the ring. Mike has no chance, but he tries his best, even hits a skullcrushing finale on the man. But it's like flicking a blood-starved mosquito who just comes back even more angry and determined. It's a disappointment, but not fully a surprise, when he loses to Braun.
Braun leaves, but the audience is egging him on, and all Mike can do is bail from the ring and collapse on his back as Braun targets Bo and Axel again, tossing them around like rag dolls while Mike lays on the ramp and watches on in fear. He's not sure what's worse, really, Seth's unwillingness to lose, or Strowman's pure, anger-fueled strength.
Raw going to commercial break seems to thankfully snap the man out of his fugue and while Mike slinks back towards the ring to collect the Miztourage, Braun continues up the ramp, barely looking bothering to look back at him. They both know he'll have to deal with him on Sunday, probably, a thought that makes Mike anxious. First in, no way to avoid anyone, if he wants to survive, and last the entire match to win and headline Wrestlemania. He grimaces and shakes Bo, then Axel, relieved when they come to and, with some assistance from the referees and medical staff that come down, make their way backstage.
"Sorry, Mike," Bo says and Axel echoes, but he shakes his head, brushes off their weak apologies. He has no mind for it right now, trying to think of some possible offense, or defense, something- anything- to help against the man when he'll be all alone, locked up in a cage with him.
He doesn't come up with much, even when he lays in bed, unable to sleep all night because he's too lost in this strategy or that. "Dammit," he hisses, punching his pillow in frustration.
Morning comes too soon and he finds himself back on a plane heading to California before he can wrap his head around everything. Traffic is awful as usual but before too long, Mike finds himself trudging exhaustedly towards his front door, AJ's face softening as soon as she opens the door and gets a good look at him. "C'mere," she says softly, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing. "Come on, let's put your things up." She guides him to the bedroom and lightly pries his fingers off of the suitcases before easing him towards the bed.
He sits down heavily on the soft mattress and blinks slowly. "I have so much to do," he mumbles to her. "And so much to think about, and try to... try to plan, I just-"
"Mm hmm," she says patiently, easing his jacket off of his shoulders, then his shoes off of his feet. His slacks go next and she eases his shirt off until all he's wearing is a tank top and boxers. He's still mumbling, barely coherent, and she nods, pushing him gently down until he's laying half on the bed. She then crawls up behind him and grips him under the arms, pulling him up until his head is resting on her legs and he's more comfortably settled on the bed. "Just close your eyes for a minute, Mike," she urges him, running her fingers through his hair.
It doesn't take too long. Between one barely legible word and the next, he falls asleep.