Last week had been the beginning of a breakthrough for Miz, as he slowly began accepting what had come and would come after. His whole career had been a struggle, to get noticed, to be taken seriously... to become world champion. With the Rumble looming, the last thing he wants to do is focus on R-Truth and all of that nonsense right now. He's working on some media scheduling for the lead in to the Royal Rumble when Alex walks into the locker room, pale and a little shaky. The pen he's holding slips to the tip of his fingers as he peers up at his former protege, frowning. "Alex? What's wrong?"
He shakes his head, turning the TV on as the last bit of commercials cycle through, Raw returning. Cole and Lawler both sound subdued so Mike looks away from his paperwork, sitting up straighter as they reair footage of Kane totally descimating Zack Ryder from minutes earlier, throwing him back and ribs first into every surface possible before eventually chokeslamming him straight through the stage onto the concrete below. Memories of another sobering beatdown flashes through his mind as he watches, remembering that it was in that same area of the ramp that he had ended Morrison's WWE career only a few short months earlier. Except that that had been this side of planned, everything from the pipe shot to the final Skullcrushing finale designed to not seriously injure John.
Kane's attack on Ryder is vicious and determined to leave him out of action for awhile, if not permanently. He shakes his head- Ryder is far from his favorite person, the kid anywhere from obnoxious to annoying depending on the day and Miz's mood, but it's still sobering to watch this play out, even in a condensed recap. He looks up at Alex, whose face is shadowed in the faint glow from the monitor and he stands, resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Hey, you ok?" Despite his own feelings about Ryder, Alex and he had tagged a time or two in the past, and Mike knows that Alex considers the Long Island Iced Z a friend. With Morrison gone, both are a little limited on those anymore so he understands as the former NXT rookie takes a shuddering breath, frowning at the TV.
"Not really," he admits lowly, eyes downcast. Injuries had been on the uprise in the WWE lately, and neither of them had been safe either- between Alex's hip and Mike's knee, shoulder and various other minor things. With each passing week adding more people to the injured list, tension in the locker room grows- everyone growing more and more uncomfortably aware with the knowledge that one wrong move could cost any of them at any time, their livelihoods at risk almost every time they step into the ring. Despite it all, competition and determination to make it to the top of the mountain keep them all coming back, no matter what.
Sighing, Miz kneads his shoulders a few times before releasing him with a slight shake. "Hey, Alex, I have to go do an interview. I'll be back in a little bit, alright?" At Alex's nod, he nods and heads for the door. "Take it easy, man. I'm sure Zack'll be alright." The interview is going smoothly enough, his thoughts slowly tunneling into a simple thing- his former tag partners. None of them had lasted, none of them had reached a very high level after allegiances with him, and he ignores the uncomfortable guilt niggling at him as he mentions Morrison in that group.
He's about to wrap up and return to Alex when Truth interrupts, dressed in some lame attempt at business attire, claiming to be a research analyst or something equally as ridiculous. Mike zones out as Truth drones on, like he had done many times during their partnership. He's just started to snap back at the other man when Laurinaitis storms in, his voice almost sending Mike to sleep- until he announces a match between the former tag partners for later in the evening... with the loser being #1 in the Sunday's rumble match. He pales and storms off, slamming into the locker room that he had vacated minutes earlier.
Alex looks up at him, surprised. "Mike?"
"Were you watching?" he snaps, throwing himself down on the bench across from him and glowering angrily at the floor.
"Yeah, I saw-"
"I wanted this to be over with, I wanted to turn my attention to the Rumble... but does it happen? Of course not! And why? Because Laurinaitis thinks that Truth deserves to face me!" He angrily runs his fingers through his hair over and over and over, tugging slightly with each pass. "DAMMIT."
Alex shakes his head, leaning forward. "Mike, Mike! Man, come on. Losing it like this won't help you any. You can't lose your focus or do something stupid because you're so angry. You don't want to be stuck with the #1 slot in the Rumble, do you?" Mike shakes his head grimly. "Then focus, alright? You need to be on top of your game for this..." His voice drifts slightly and he sighs. "Look, I just... want you to be careful; I can't take something else happening tonight, to anyone else."
Mike's features soften slightly as he takes in the worried look on the younger man's face. "I'm gonna be fine, Alex. I just want this to get over with, I want to beat him and make him beg for the #1 slot, and then move on to the next stage of my career. Such as winning the Rumble and moving on to main event Wrestlemania. Again. Everything's gonna be fine, especially after this match."
But famous last words are killer, and despite his fighting as hard as he can and even holding the advantage for awhile, Mike loses. He stumbles to the back, sweaty and hurting and beyond aggravated. Alex meets him at the door to the locker room, looking sympathetic and worried. "You ok?"
"I'm fine," he snaps, pushing into the room. "Dammit." He throws his discarded wrestling shirt to the ground and stomps on it, his control slipping more and more with each passing second. He slaps his open fists against his thighs as he grabs some street clothes from his bag. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yea- yeah, sure, man," Alex agrees quickly, wide eyed. With no matches or segments tonight, he hadn't even bothered changing into his ring gear. "Let's go." Despite usually being meticulous with his appearance and how he carries himself, Mike pulls on a shirt and pants over his trunks before slamming through the locker room door to the exit, dragging his bag with him carelessly. Alex bites his lip, grabbing his own bag before rushing after him.
Alex drives as Mike angrily flips through his texts, reading various tweet alerts and other notices he's gotten during Raw. Everything fades away as he catches sight of one of Morrison's tweets from earlier in the evening. "Ah, hell," he groans, rereading it with a worried grimace.
first surf session since hurting my ankle... and squashed by the ocean- #TypicalMonday
"What?" the younger man asks, looking over with a pensive frown. "What's wrong?"
"Morrison," he mumbles, hitting a few buttons on his phone until it rings in.
Two rings in, he answers. "I'm fine, Mike," he says before Miz can get past opening his mouth. "I didn't reinjure anything, I just got thrown around a bit."
Mike pauses, momentarily relieved at the sound of Morrison's voice, before chuckling. "Y'know, if I hadn't read your tweet and just called to talk, that would've been a weird conversation starter."
"Yeah, well, I know you too well for that," John says, his smile bleeding into his words. "You never call just to talk."
He snorts. "Which is what happens when you're the-"
"Most watched superstar ever," he says along with Mike. "But seriously, I'm fine."
"Your ankle doing alright?" He presses a knuckle to his forehead, sighing. He had tried hard to protect Morrison late last November, but he had still walked away with a bad enough ankle injury that he had had to have rehab for it for weeks. How it had happened, Mike's still unsure, the whole match a blur of emotion and regret.
"Yeah, I'm pretty much a hundred percent now. Rehab's done, now I just have to get into ring shape for that event in February."
"Knowing you, that won't be too difficult," Mike comments, remembering all of the time John used to put into keeping toned no matter where they were at or what was going on at the time.
"Yeah, probably. So, getting ready for the Rumble?"
He grimaces, leaning against the cold window, a headache growing behind his eyes. "Well, I guess you could put it that way. Laurinaitis put me in a match where if I lost I'd be the #1 entrant." They pause, and Mike knows that Morrison more than likely already has guessed where he's going with this. "I lost." He doesn't mention Truth, not wanting to talk about the other man anymore than he already has, or remind Morrison of his own downward spiral in the weeks, months leading up to his firing.
"That sucks," he says slowly. "I'm sorry, man."
"It's alright. I'm not giving up." He takes a deep breath, not sure where his failing confidence ends and the false bravado he had been clinging desperately to for awhile now begins. "I will be champion again."