The trip to Brazil that follows Monday Night Raw goes unimpressively. Mike keeps to himself, moodily staring around as the roster rolls on with their business despite him. He does this media event and that, only paying attention when he butchers the Brazillian language on purpose. Even some drama involving Jericho and the Brazillian flag barely garners his notice, his heart just not in much of anything this tour. He notices Alex in his peripheral vision every now and again but they never talk, the younger man content to walk in the opposite direction. It disgusts him how lonely he's starting to feel, even tempted to watch old episodes of The Dirt Sheet. But that's a slippery slope that would lead him to call Morrison, further proving just how badly he's alienated everyone and make himself feel even worse.
He sighs, pressing his fingers against his eyes. Despite how hard he tries to ignore the words still echoing around in his head, Alex's words from the week before aren't that far off the mark, he knows it. They both deserve better than me, constantly using them to try to get ahead. It's amazing they put up with my BS for as long as they did.
That weekend they return to America to prepare for Raw in New Orleans. Mike spends the flight to Louisiana trying not to stare as Zack Ryder and A-Ri, sitting a few aisles ahead of him, talk heatedly about something, the angry look on Zack's face growing with each passing second. "Enough," Alex finally snaps at his friend. "I get that it didn't work out for you, but we're not all..." His voice fades away as he realizes whatever he's about to say might be going a little too far.
"Not all what, bro? Huh?" Zack glowers up at him, his eyes flashing behind his ever present sunglasses. Alex sighs, mumbling something that Miz can't hear from this distance. As he walks towards the back of the plane, passing Mike by, Zack yells after him. "You'll learn, bro!"
He itches to reach out, grab the younger man, see what has Ryder up in arms like this, but the moment passes as he leans down in his chair, not even looking up as Alex returns a few minutes later, only sharing a few more tense words with the Long Island Iced Z before forcefully pressing earbuds in his ear and losing himself in music for the rest of the flight.
Alex and Mike both try to make it to the exit first upon take off, only succeeding in bumping into each other. They stare at each other for a while before Alex steps back, Mike's work at ingraining respect to those who'd been in the business longer holding steady in the younger man as he waits for his former mentor to go on ahead. His eyes soften slightly as he brushes past, trying to quell the sudden need to grab Alex around the neck and drag him along so they could go hang out at the hotel or some nearby bar, like he might've in the past. When they could be in each other's presence without wanting to scream or pick fights.
He sighs, dropping his bags into the waiting rental car and looks up as Alex leaves with Zack Ryder, the two still barely talking as they pass by. "Well, at least I'm not the only one miserable," he grumbles.
Since Laurinaitis' rise to power in the WWE, especially after he'd won full power over Teddy back at 'Mania, the locker rooms usually are full of guys avoiding the permanent GM of Raw and Smackdown, not to mention his two associates. As if the thin wood door is any kind of protection against them. Mike shakes his head as he looks around at his fellow wrestlers, all forced to step carefully where Laurinaitis is concerned, sneering to himself. Even he isn't safe, despite being the main reason that Big Johnny even has this power in the first place.
With everyone so desperate to avoid notice, in case their careers would go the way of Big Show's, it's almost like an earthquake when the locker room door is open from the inside, everyone looking up in surprise. Mike glances up and over, looking back down, before what he'd seen actually registers and he looks once more. Alex, of all people, is leaving the room. He looks around, finding Zack Ryder glaring mulishly at the now closed door, a frown growing upon his face. What are you up to, Alex?
There's a monitor on in the corner, barely interesting any of them beyond a few glances now and then. At least until Mike sees Alex talking to Eve, his lips parting in shock. Is he... trying to flirt with her? Dear God. What is he doing? Disgust and annoyance war within him until finally Big Show interrupts them, a whole new set of emotions welling up within him as Eve leaves him callously behind with the much larger individual.
Alex stammers around, trying to convince Show that he shouldn't be his opponent, looking ridiculously relieved when the big man tells him that he's not his selection. All relief is wiped out in seconds as Show explains instead he can still use A-Ri to prove a point, roughly grabbing him and slinging him into the wall face first. Mike blinks, surprised to find that he's on his feet, glaring at the monitor with his hands curled into fists. "Dammit," he hisses, pushing past Primo and Epico as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
No matter how mad he is at Alex, the younger man getting in Big Show's path of destruction wasn't anything like what Mike wanted for him. Even so, he can't bring himself to enter the trainer's office and actually check on his former protege, taking to pacing outside of it before his match is about to begin. "Ugh," he sighs at his own cowardice, rushing for the titantron as his music keys up.
He's distracted by everything going on and, even though he manages a few promising offensive moments against Christian, his chances dry up and soon enough he's rolling around, holding his ribs after a Frog Splash and pin. As the show breaks to commercials, he forces himself to his feet, brushing off the referee who's trying to get him to leave. "NO!" he snaps right in the middle aged man's face, smirking viciously as he recoils and leaves the ring.
It's obvious when the show comes back, the cameramen moving around to catch different angles of the ring, him, the audience, everything. He begins to talk, knowing that at any time Laurinaitis or Eve or anyone else could interrupt. Laying it out there simply, he delves into how pointless it is, the way he's being treated, after everything he'd accomplished for Laurinaitis and otherwise, once more putting the show on strike until he gets the things he feels he deserves.
There's barely a moment to breathe between words when familiar music hits and he looks up with a glare, watching as Randy Orton storms into the ring, his grey eyes locking on Mike's suspicious glower. "What do you want?" he asks, just to be shut up by an abrupt RKO. It was obvious from the moment the music hit that that was Orton's endgame. He rolls away, punching the mat. I hate that move!
Ignoring the lurking referee, he stumbles back to the trainer's office on his own, holding his ribs and neck, just to wait patiently as he's checked out. Alex is still sitting across the room, an ice pack pressed to his face. As Ferdinand Rios finishes muttering to himself about Mike's injuries, the former champion looks over his shoulder before nudging the trainer. "How's he?" he whispers.
Looking back and forth between the two, Rios shakes his head. "Nothing serious, just some soreness. At most it's a broken nose," he mutters back, proving again why a lot of the guys in the back like him well enough. He remains professional, never allowing himself to be dragged into their individual dramas.
Mike nods, standing up to leave. "Thanks." He feels Alex's eyes on him as he's leaving but doesn't turn around, not willing to give the younger man the satisfaction.