Six days before Wrestlemania. Morrison shakes his head as he runs a hand over his face. It's honestly come up fast- quicker than he expected, and although he can understand the advantages of being in a match with a celebrity, what it could mean for any future career plans he may have inside and out of the WWE, a part of him misses the Money in the Bank match. At least I would've had a chance to be in it and it would've kept me out of ridiculous situations like this, he thinks, watching Vickie Guerrero mimic his slow-motion entrance.
Daniel Bryan is waiting to go out too, warming up slowly close to the gorilla position, but before John can join him to go over last minute ideas, Miz's loud, hard-to-ignore voice cuts into the tense silence that takes over the backstage area before every Mania, each person in the building desperate to get things right, to hold momentum leading up to the biggest event of the year.
"Hey, Morrison, if you need some help with Vickie tonight, you know where to find me," Mike says, smirking as he comes level with his former tag partner. "We've all seen what a tough opponent she can be. Especially last week."
"Ha ha," is all John says dryly, glancing over at Miz. To any other person, they'd think the champion was the very picture of confidence and calm. Morrison can tell better, by the tight, white knuckled grip he has on his redesigned M belt. How his eyes fail at focusing on John for more than a few moments before shifting down the hallway, as if on the look out for something untoward. How Alex stands closely, keeping a paranoid eye out as well.
Despite the year being successful as far as title runs go for Mike, it's been far from easy between the Raw GM and all of his shenanigans, the off and on drama between them, and then not even getting to take all the focus in his first 'Mania main event because of the Rock's issues with Cena. Morrison softens slightly as Miz glances over at Alex. I wonder if he realizes with Cena's attention more on Rock, he might be lucky enough to pull this whole thing off at Mania. Sometimes that's all that's needed.
"You have a match next?" Mike asks, finally turning his own attention back on John.
Someone's been too distracted to check the board, John thinks, glancing over at Daniel Bryan briefly. "Yeah, a tag match."
Mike's eyes track John's gaze, a hissed grumble huffing out of the champion's mouth. "Seriously? They're making you team with him? Against who?"
Before Morrison can even think up the proper response, Sheamus appears on the scene, US title held proudly on his arm as he glowers at them all.
"No way," Miz mumbles, his grip tightening even more against the strap of his belt.
Sheamus pauses and turns, staring across the hall at Miz. "Well, well, if it ain't the man I beat to win this beauty here," he says, his accent deep and boastful as Alex glances back and forth from Miz to the Irishman, unsure if he should intervene or just let this confrontation play out. "Better watch yourself, Miz. I might just start wanting more gold after 'Mania... Hell, if you can hold both the US belt and the WWE title for months, it can't be that difficult, right?"
John steps forward as Miz stiffens, his eyes turning icy and threatening. Before anyone can say or do anything, however, Dolph pushes away from the wall where he's been waiting for Vickie to finish introducing him and brushes past Sheamus, distracting him from glaring at Miz. "Come on, it's time to beat these idiots."
They leave, Morrison watching quietly as Miz slowly deflates, his eyes falling to the floor.
"Mike?" Alex mumbles, just to be ignored. He looks away with a sigh, not wanting to anger his mentor further.
"Hey," John reaches out for him but Mike brushes past him.
"Shut up, John," he mumbles, storming back towards the locker room area.
John tries to hold his own in the match, he really does, but his mind is stuck back on that confrontation in the back, the look on Miz's face, and he never really gets out of the gate. In the end, he's thrown out of the ring and hits his back hard on the barricade wall, dazing him long enough that Daniel gets taken out by Sheamus and pinned quickly.
Once their opponents leave, he rolls slowly back into the ring and, trying to reach the ache in his back, kneels by Daniel, who still looks dazed and confused about what exactly just happened. "I'm sorry, man. That loss was my fault."
Daniel just stares at him for a long moment, frowning thoughtfully. "No offense, Morrison, but did you do that on purpose?"
John sputters for a long moment, his eyes wide as he brushes wayward hair out of his face. "What do you mean? Of course not."
"I know you and Miz are ... kind of friends," Daniel continues, ignoring Morrison's denials. "Or whatever. It's complicated. Fine. But he's never liked me and now I'm going after the US title so quickly after he lost it. I saw how he was looking earlier- not exactly how you'd expect a champion going into Mania to look. He puts on a good act but I see through it. We never got along but he was still my NXT pro for awhile, I sorta got to know him. Enough to know this cocky attitude he has going now- with the flipped belt and crap- is all an act. So did you ensure our- my- loss tonight to make him feel better?"
The referee is prodding them to move it along, there are other matches to come, the audience is getting restless, etc. etc., so finally Daniel stands and pulls Morrison up with him. "Listen, I understand- like I said, it's complicated. Maybe you did it subconsciously without really knowing but... you've been able to hold your own against Sheamus in the past a lot better than what I saw tonight. That's all." He pats Morrison on the shoulder, a curious, thoughtful look in his eyes, before heading for the ramp.
As crazy as it sounds, Morrison can't help but wonder if maybe the guy was perhaps onto something.
"This sucks!" Miz's yell is detectable all the way down the hall, as Morrison wanders around, trying to distract himself from Daniel Bryan's earlier suggestion, find some way to tell himself that the aspiring US champion was wrong.
He instead finds himself hovering outside of Mike's locker room, peering in through the partially opened door. He flinches as Miz kicks the lockers, the toe of his shoe thudding loudly against the steel and causing Alex to jump as well.
"Six days before Mania and all people can talk about is Rock or Cena, Fruity Pebbles, everything but me," he fumes. "It's like I'm not even in this match at all." His hand splays across his chest, where the People's Elbow had slammed into him only a bit ago, and he shakes his head in fury. "I'll show them. I'll show them all. They can't ignore me. I won't let them."
When Miz finally falls silent and Alex moves closer, their voices little more than quiet murmurs as they begin going over strategy for the pay per view, Morrison slinks back into the shadows, a vague sigh slipping from his lips. Yeah, he thinks quietly, heading back to the locker room he had been using this evening. Daniel Bryan was right about one thing. It is complicated.