Back to Basics: Degrees of Separation part 2
The arena lights flicker, then die completely. Mike stands tensely in the ring, hands curling into fists as he wonders what is going on now, when yellow strobe lights pick up, flashing around the crowd before converging on the top of the ramp, a familiar theme suddenly echoing through the ringside area, not heard in the WWE for years now. "No, no way," Miz mutters, still unable to see much of anything. "It... it can't be..."
But then the lights kick back on for real, the crowd cheering wildly, as Ain't No Make Believe plays on, all eyes on the entrance ramp as John Morrison himself steps through the curtain, his hair billowing around like it used to weekly years back as he poses, his cinnamon red coat shifting with his slo-mo movements. Mike feels dizzy, watching through tear-blurred eyes, as his best friend stares down the ring at them, taking in the shock on all eleven men's faces with a grin before he begins to walk down towards them, each step self-assured and determined.
The Shield look far from impressed, 3MB squabbling behind them as Heath stares on, jaw dropped in disgust and horror at what had just happened to their advantage in this match. John ignores all of them, his eyes only on Mike and Alex as he enters the ring, the former NXT rookie's hand tight around Miz's shirt sleeve, both of their eyes widening as he approaches them, the reality of the situation hitting them anew as they stare on in shock. "Hey, guys. Surprised to see me?"
Mike gapes at him for a few moments longer before swatting out, hitting him across the shoulder. "You jackass! How- when... I mean... what the hell?!"
John just grins before ruffling Mike's hair. "Good to see you too, Mike," he says teasingly as his best friend slaps his hands away. "I forgot how well you treated your tag partners."
Then it clicks and the tears fill his eyes faster, Mike shaking his head. "You- you're our sixth partner? Really?" He sounds younger than he's felt in years and Morrison's eyes soften, the dark haired man reaching out and wrapping Mike up in a hug, the former WWE champion clinging desperately to him, remembering just how comforting these damn hugs always were, especially when John still had his coat on, and it felt like Mike was being blanketed in warmth on all sides. "But- but, how-"
John laughs, pulling away solemnly as he quickly wipes at his friend's face. "Hey, we'll discuss all of that later. But right now, we have a match to win. Right?"
Struggling to regain composure, Mike releases a shaky breath, catching sight of a sneering Reigns waiting behind Morrison, the referee still doing all he can to keep those six on their side of the ring, before nodding. "Yeah. You're right. Let's do this thing." He claps John on the back before turning to his team, feeling rejuvenated. "I want to start," he tells them simply as John hands off his coat to a nearby tech. No one argues, the other five ducking behind the ropes and allowing him to do as he wishes, Mike glaring down Roman as he gingerly approaches, arm outstretched.
The large man seems unimpressed as he stares down at the waiting Miz, dark eyes glinting evilly when he finally grips his wrist, twisting it backwards with the smallest bit of pressure. Mike immediately releases him, kicking him until he frees him with a tight smirk, seeming almost amused by how badly that had failed for his opponent. "Ok, bad idea," he mutters. "No lock up... now what should I try..." He glances over at John, still amazed that the other man had somehow found his way back to be involved in this match, and turns around just to get punched solidly in the jaw, crashing to the mat. He grunts and grips his face, shaking his head as he tries to regain composure. Well, that sucked, he thinks, barely inching away from the point of impact when a boot lands repeatedly on his midsection, causing him to curl up in an attempt at defending himself.
He thinks he's close to blacking out when the ring fills up, his teammates finally fighting people away from him, and he looks up painfully to find John and Alex fighting off the members of 3MB, Del Rio and Zack working at keeping The Shield back while Ricardo kneels down by him, trying to sit him up. "Mike," he exclaims when he sees blue eyes peering up at him. "Ay, finally. Come, come." He supports him as he fights to sit up, the two men awkwardly making it to their feet. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah," Mike grunts, hating that the match has broken down this quickly, The Shield's apparent lack of weakness showing early on to his disgust. Ricardo forgets all about Miz when he looks up and finds Zack down in the corner, Roman holding Alberto in position for their trio bomb again, flanked by the other two members, their backs to Mike and Ricardo.
"No!" he exclaims, rushing forward and snapping off a solid enzuigiri kick to the back of Reigns' skull to rescue his employer, sending him toppling forward. Alberto lands awkwardly on the mat as Seth and Dean turn their attention to the ring announcer, Alex and John still busy keeping 3MB down while Mike fights to maintain his balance, feeling the effects of The Shield's earlier attack. Ricardo is cornered by the two men when he looks over their shoulders at Del Rio, who is struggling to sit up, their eyes locked. He glances around at the crowd, uncomfortably aware of all of the cameras focused on them, shaking his head as he looks once more at his employer.
"You can do it," Alberto says, his words indecipherable over the crowd noise and everything else, but Ricardo can tell what he means when he watches the movement of his lips. "I believe in you, mi amigo." Gulping, the ring announcer looks over The Shield members' shoulders and catches Mike's eye, breathing in deeply as he, too, nods in encouragement, the younger man closing his eyes before taking action. He hooks his arms on either side of the top turnbuckle and kicks out, planting his feet on Seth's shoulders, kicking him back and using the momentum that comes from it to send himself clean over the ropes where he lands on the apron, just regaining his balance in time to look up, and- duck hurriedly as Ambrose lunges at him, causing the leader of The Shield to plant himself in the post.
Relieved that, for now, Ricardo is safe on the outside, both Seth and Ambrose knocked off-center, Alberto makes it to his feet and turns his attention to Roman, who is staggering to his feet also. As soon as he's upright, Del Rio grabs him and backcrackers him in the middle of the ring, the large man writhing away in pain as Alberto rolls back onto his feet and nods at Mike, moving to check on his ring announcer while Mike takes over beating up the legal man. The referee finally seems to be getting control of things once more, all three members of 3MB on the apron, Morrison, Alex and Zack joining the Mexicans on their side of the ring. Dean and Seth are still angry from earlier but when the referee threatens disqualifying them both, they give in and duck under the ropes, each movement bleeding disdain and disgust.
Mike punches Reigns, trying not to panic as he regains his footing quickly, too quickly, but grabs him and tries to pull off his neck and backbreaker combo, just for it to be reversed, Roman sidewalk slamming him into the mat. He rolls around in agony before finding himself close to his corner. He knows that he can't take much more, thinking maybe someone else would have better luck against the brutal man, so he dives forward and tags blindly, relieved when Alex and Morrison reach out and help roll his limp body under the ropes so the referee doesn't continue to yell at him. Except that he regrets the tag the instant he opens his eyes and finds Zack Ryder struggling to get free from Roman's tight hold, kicking desperately until finally the larger man throws him clear across the ring and stares at him while he fights to his feet, barely able to lift his hands before Reigns spears him nearly into the turnbuckles before dragging him away from the ropes and tangling him up in an uncomfortably painful looking pin.
When the bell rings to confirm the elimination, Mike's eyes closing in regret, his team now at 5 on 6 for real, Alberto enters the ring, patting Ricardo on the arm as he goes. Reigns sneers at him before, apparently bored with all of this, turns and stares at his corner for a moment before roughly tagging Drew in, going to stand with his own team. 3MB looks startled but soon Heath and Jinder cheer on their fellow bandmate, the long haired Scot staring down the Mexican aristocrat with a sneer. "'Ey, Del Rio, it may be better off for ya to tag out right about now. I don't wanna hurt ya, after all. Maybe let in your little ring announcer, huh? We still have some unfinished business with 'im from December."
When Ricardo tenses next to Mike, he pats him on the back, frowning as Del Rio glances back at them, his eyes dark with displeasure. "Shut up, perro," he calls out to his opponent, slapping himself on the arms to refocus as he circles Drew, looking for the best place to start with. Finally he lunges forward and they lock up, evenly matched for a brief bit until Del Rio pushes back and gains some leverage against him, looking like he's about to snap his arm against his knees when McIntyre somehow lands a headbutt, dazing both of them a bit. Mike's team loses the bit of confidence they'd regained after that first elimination as Drew kicks Alberto, unbalancing him further
"El Patron," Ricardo mutters, stomping on the steps to try to get the crowd behind his employer when the Scotsman locks him into an armlock, twisting his wrist behind his head and causing him to kick out, desperate to get free. Finally Alberto begins to fight, staring right at the corner where his ring announcer, Miz, Alex and Morrison are watching on worriedly, all encouraging the crowd to urge Del Rio on. He elbows Drew in the ribs time and again, finally winding his opponent enough to wiggle free and elbow him from the other side, quickly diving away and getting the tag in to Ricardo, who only hesitates a moment before slipping into the ring after making sure his employer is settled on the apron safely.
Drew sneers at him, eyes glinting dangerously, while rubbing his midsection. "Well, well, look who it is," he calls over to the younger man who digs his fingers into the black tape covering his knuckles to his wrists.
Ricardo glances around the arena once more, taking in the crowd and cameras, bright lights, and... But it all fades away. More important than all of the eyes on him around the world are the four men behind him, supporting him and depending on him to at least survive this match. They can't afford another elimination, not when there's still six on the other side, and... and Drew had dared use armbased offense against Del Rio, the utmost sign of disrespect in this business. He swallows and inches closer to McIntyre, watching him and the five others closely. The taller man looks upon him derisively before holding a hand out, Ricardo swallowing as he meets him halfway, locking up with him and struggling against him. Drew keeps the upperhand, pushing the ring announcer down to the mat in an uncomfortable bridge but Ricardo squirms out of it, making it to his feet while McIntyre mocks him from the mat, receiving a solid kick to the skull in response, causing him to slump to the mat in surprise.
"Hey!" Heath snaps, distracting Ricardo for a moment but the ring announcer turns his attention back to the other man when the referee goes over to warn the members of 3MB as they try to get into the ring.
Ricardo takes a breath, closes his eyes, and decides to take the chance, stuffing down his nervousness as best as he can. For El Patron and Miz and the others, he thinks before trying to snap off a standing moonsault right there, in the middle of the ring. He knows immediately when it hits, the wind taken from him almost as thoroughly as from Drew. But he forces himself to his feet and looks around at, first, his employer, then at the opposing side of the ring where Jinder and Heath are nearly apoplectic, before spotting the free turnbuckle nearest to where Drew is laying. He grins, an idea coming to him.
Dashing over to it, he climbs up to the second rope and stands there, his back to everything as he tries to psych himself into doing it. Fear overwhelms him, however, when he hears the ring rattling behind him, certain that either The Shield or 3MB or Drew himself will climb up behind him, counter whatever he's about to do and take it all away from him. Before he can worry too much, however, he hears more action in the ring behind him and a moment later, Alberto is in front of him, grinning encouragingly. "Go ahead, amigo, the ring's clear for you. McIntyre's waiting."
He nods, swallowing. "Gracias, El Patron," he tells his employer before standing up straight and completing the corkscrew moonsault off of the second rope, landing it perfectly on top of the 3MB member. As he lays there, automatically hooking his leg for the three count, it hits him. I eliminated someone... better yet, I managed the first elimination for my team. He sits up, grinning, as Drew rolls out of the ring, spitting angrily as he slams a fist into the mat on his way out.
"Tag me in, amigo," Alberto calls out to him, halfway back to their corner, and Ricardo nods, rolling over just in time to do so, Alberto into the ring and across to meet Heath. The bright haired man fights as well as he can, considering, but he doesn't last long- a punch attempt gets countered into his arm slammed across Alberto's knees, which quickly leads into the armbar. Although Heath struggles and tries to get to the ropes, it's too much for him and he eventually ends up tapping, almost landing on top of Drew when Del Rio kicks him towards the ropes to prepare for the next opponent.
It looks like Jinder is going to be the next one in and Alberto sneers at the Punjab before turning to point at his ring announcer. The crowd cheers and begins chanting si! si! si! but the Mexicans fail to notice as Jinder turns back to the members of The Shield, raising an eyebrow. Roman sneers at him before reaching out and roughly tagging himself in, Jinder relieved to slip back onto the apron as Ricardo enters the ring and pauses for a minute to exchange words with his employer before he returns to the apron, nodding quickly. It's over as soon as it begins, Ricardo turning, clearly expecting to see Jinder coming at him, but instead it's the dark blur of Roman Reigns barreling right at him, spearing him down to the mat.
Alberto freezes on the apron, his back to the action, when the bell ringing announces another elimination, Del Rio spinning around to find his ring announcer down, motionless on the mat, Reigns on top of him with a dark sneer on his face. "Ay dios mio," he snarls, staring at the muscle of The Shield with no lack of anger. It's clear that he wants in, wants revenge for Ricardo, but Mike grabs him before he can force his way through the ropes. "Let me go," he snaps.
"No," Mike commands attention, gripping his arm tightly. "Listen to me. Going in there now, when you're so angry, will do none of us- Ricardo especially- any favors. You want to try to get back at The Shield, right? Let one of us go in now," he orders, motioning to himself and his two best friends. "You can calm down some, focus your anger, and get in there later, when you won't get yourself DQ'd. Just... go check on Ricardo before they make him leave ringside."
Alberto closes his eyes, seeing Mike's logic, as painful as it is to admit. "Fine," he grouses. As he drops onto the floor to check on his ring announcer, Mike looks into the ring at the waiting Roman Reigns.
"Well-"
"I'm going in," Alex says before either of them could say anything. John and Mike both blink as he ducks through the ropes and stares at Roman, standing impassively. The man seems unimpressed with him, turning back to his corner and roughly tagging Jinder in before joining his other teammates. Alex rolls his eyes and crouches defensively, waiting for Jinder to finally enter.
When The Fun One makes it inside, Alex uses his momentum against him and scoops him up immediately in a slam, getting to his feet and kneeing him solidly between the shoulderblades. Jinder falls forward against the mat, groaning and complaining in Punjab, when Alex grabs him in a sleeper, wrapping his legs solidly around him so he can't get away as easily. It only lasts a minute or two, Jinder elbowing his way out of it after the referee counts a two, but it's enough to give Alex time to think and wears Jinder down some, his movements following that just a little slower, less coordinated.
Causes Mahal to miss wildly with a clothesline and opens him up to be scooped up for Alex's sit out powerbomb, followed up by a pin that achieves the three count. Alex laughs, rolling himself free, but has barely gotten back to his feet when all humor leaves him: the mentally off-balanced Dean Ambrose takes his turn, staring at the young man with deadened eyes. A-Ri swallows uncomfortably, flexing his fists, before deciding to just go for it. He's barely taken a step, however, when Dean's on him with punches and kicks, each strike landed vicious and leaving his ears ringing. He can distantly hear Mike and John calling out to him, but he can't do anything about it- one minute he's on his feet, the next he's being slammed face first into the mat, his whole body rattling at the impact, Ambrose all but laughing in his face as he pins him.
Miz and Morrison exchange uncomfortable glances, growing all too aware that the match is heading down to the wire now, them and Alberto against The Shield. As if sensing that they're thinking about him, the Mexican aristocrat chooses that moment to slide into the ring, staring at the three men. Dean smirks dismissively at him before turning to tag Roman in, he and Seth urging the big man to do to Del Rio what he'd done to his ring announcer.
Mike knows immediately that this is the wrong tack to take, only serving to anger the older man further. He paces back and forth in the ring, staring darkly at Reigns, his movements rough and jerky. Reigns, growing tired of being ignored, lunges after him, trying to take advantage of his apparent distraction, but Del Rio sidesteps and listens more than sees as the larger man rams into the turnbuckle, his pride smarting more than anything else when he once more goes after Alberto. As if waiting for this, Del Rio once more steps away but this time catches him in a drop toehold, using it to bridge Roman into a chinlock. The longer that they sit, Alberto wrenching back on his face, the more he remembers how dazed Ricardo had been when he'd dropped down to check on him, and he begins kneeing him in the sternum, unsurprised when the referee begins to count.
He's on three when Alberto looks up, finding Miz staring down at him with cool blue eyes, a demand lurking in their depths. He's not close with Mike, not like Ricardo is, but he can tell what that look means, especially after what Mike had told him earlier. For that reason, when he hears four, he releases the hold and kicks Roman away from him, standing up and glaring warningly at the other two members of The Shield as he ponders what else to do to his opponent. 3MB's status in the match hadn't been important to The Shield, but none of them doubts that, when it comes down to it, the two on the apron will get involved whenever the man in the ring is in danger. So it's Del Rio's turn to stare at Mike, and Morrison, until they seem to understand, nodding slightly while he turns back to the still recovering Reigns, kicking him solidly in the arm to weaken the appendage. He's just landed a second and third kick when there's two streaks of red over his head, Alberto glancing up in time to see the former tag champions tackling The Shield through the second rope to the outside, where the four of them lay tangled up in each other, Miz and Dean quickly exchanging blows as Seth and Morrison trade kicks.
Taking advantage of the opportunity this provides him, Del Rio resumes ramming his knee into and kicking Roman's arm, pausing when he's starting to get back to his feet to snap off another stiff enzuigiri to the side of the man's skull, stalling him once more. Although he enjoys weakening him slowly, the brutally abrupt way Reigns had taken Ricardo out of the match sticks with him and something comes to him finally. He glances from the ropes to his opponent before grabbing the arm he'd been working over the past few minutes, twisting it until Reigns begins to scramble to free it, knowing that he could easily dislocate it at this angle.
But Alberto is stubborn and determined to see this through, twisting and tearing on the already injured body part until Reigns follows, struggling to punch the quickly moving Mexican to get free. Nothing helps, however, and before long, Del Rio has him in the corner, bending his arm even further, ignoring his angry growls and desperate swipes that pound across Alberto's back in his attempts to get free. Climbing out of reach, the Mexican aristocrat holds his arm in the painful position while wrapping an arm around his face, holding him in place before he leaps forward, swinging around and dropping Roman head first into the mat before finally releasing his arm.
He checks to make sure that Miz and Morrison are still keeping the other members busy before rolling over and, holding Reigns' arm nearly in his usual submission hold, tweaking it just enough that he can feel how tense it is, he covers him and closes his eyes as the referee counts it, 1... 2... and the 3 feels like the first full breath of fresh air he'd had since Ricardo had been eliminated so suddenly.
He moves back against the corner, using the turnbuckle to stand back up and observe what's going on on the outside, laughing when Seth and Dean realize that their muscle'd been eliminated, Seth rolling into the ring, but before he can approach, Morrison makes his way inside and hits Rollins with a spinning kick, barely down on the mat for a moment before he makes it back to his feet, impressing even Del Rio, who motions him over to the apron.
John, guessing what he intends on doing, follows his directions, quickly tagging himself in to continue his and Seth's outside physicality. Finally the referee gets Miz and Dean's attention by threatening again to disqualify them both if they don't get to their corners, so Mike joins Del Rio to watch as Morrison and Seth face off, it hitting Miz yet again that this is the first time since late 2011 that his best friend has been in a WWE ring.
The two men exchange punches and kicks, John not seeming to miss a step, all of his Indy dates and the work he'd put into the OOYM fitness DVD sets seeming to be enough to keep his ring rust at bay. Miz half-smiles as John levels Seth with a enzuigiri before going to the top rope, landing a diving crossbody on him, burying him deep into the mat. Dean gets twitchy at the cover that follows, but Seth kicks out at 2, Mike shifting on the apron as he wonders how long those two can go at it, aware that John and Rollins had fought just as long on the outside as he and Ambrose.
John takes the opportunity while Seth's still down and, using the top rope for leverage, hits a springboard elbow drop, Seth choking and massaging his midsection as Morrison, tired of waiting, pulls him up-right and tries for a European uppercut, just for Seth to catch him and, surprising all of them, sends Morrison face first into the turnbuckles, dazing him. John staggers away, right into a forearm, which Seth follows up with a second, sandwiching John into the corner as Mike watches, unable to do anything without risking John's pride on what technically is his return match to the WWE.
When Del Rio moves like he's about to do something, Mike hesitantly stops him with a hand on his arm. "Wait," he mutters. "This is John's fight."
Alberto glances over, well versed in the pride most athletes abide by. "Si."
After another forearm that rattles John all the way down to his gums, he staggers out of the corner and turns in time to eat a clothesline, landing painfully on the mat. Seth reaches down to grab him, force him up to his feet once more, when John kicks him in the skull, an obvious act of desperation. But it gives them enough space as Seth falls back and shakes his head, glaring ahead just before- John hooks his arm around Seth and then moonsaults backwards, slamming the other into the mat roughly
Mike thinks people in the nosebleeds can probably see that Seth's looking disoriented after that, John untangling himself before climbing to the ropes in front of Mike. So many memories flash through his tag partner's head as John steadies himself up there, leaping back for the Starship Pain that lands securely across Seth's heaving chest, the pin that follows all but a formality as Dean slams his fists against the turnbuckle, now the only member of The Shield left. Pride before the fall, Mike thinks with a sneer as Seth is rolled out of the ring.
John seems willing to continue, even as the more fresh Dean enters the ring, but Mike calls out to him. "Hey! John!" When his tag partner turns around, Miz holds his hand out. Dean is the only one left and, somehow, it seems fitting to Mike that the leaders of the two teams go head to head. Not to mention, between Del Rio and Morrison both competing relatively recently, Mike is the freshest man currently out there. And this must register with John because he nods and accepts the tag, switching places with his best friend.
Mike stares across at Dean, his jaw tight as he tries to figure out where to begin. As Ambrose sneers across at him, he walks back and forth a bit, working his nerve up. Glancing over his shoulder for a moment at Del Rio and Morrison, he nods, squaring his shoulders. Let's do this thing. It might be stupid in hindsight but he does it, grabbing Dean in an impromptu lock up and, sure enough, regretting it immediately as the man elbows him roughly in the skull, dazing him.
He stumbles backwards and rubs at his temple, shaking his head to try to stop the ringing in his ears. That moment of hesitation is enough as Dean rushes forward and snaps a dropkick, sending him back against the ropes. He blinks a time or two, staring on as Morrison and Del Rio's voices call across to him, trying to get him back into it. No one's been able to really defeat The Shield, only Undertaker able to boast a victory against Ambrose, but even then, he'd been beaten down and taken out of action immediately afterwards. What am I going to do?
Glancing over again, Mike locks eyes with John, who nods at him, lips twitching up into a confident smile. Bolstered by even that small show of faith from his best friend, he knows he can't just give up. Not now, not this far into the match. When Dean lunges at him again, he ducks aside and kicks him in the legs, the back, anything he can think of as he tangles up in the ropes, trying to wait out Miz's melee. And he thinks it's working at holding the somewhat insane superstar at bay until Dean regains himself and grabs Mike by the neck, whiplashing his face against the top rope and sending him back hard against the mat.
As he writhes around, the referee checking on him, he wonders again what he could do to keep Dean down, how he's going to get back to his feet, he glances over to his corner and finds John and Alberto both still cheering him on or working at getting the crowd behind him.
Mike slowly makes it to his feet and stares at Ambrose's back, still not sure what to do to keep the off-balanced man down. The commentators love going on about how The Shield puts the team before the individual, he thinks, staring at Del Rio and Morrison through tired eyes. Maybe...
Working more on instinct than anything, Mike takes a breath and runs forward, clotheslining Ambrose clear out of the ring. He moves to join him, try to chain together some sort of offense, ignoring the referee's warnings, when Ambrose surprises him by getting to his feet in the blink of an eye. Before Miz can even think of anything else to do, he's snagged and dropped roughly to the floor below, his face and body throbbing at the impact of the move that had eliminated Alex earlier. He's groggy and disoriented, sure that it's over now, but Dean doesn't follow up.
Forcing his eyes open, Mike struggles to sit up, look around, feeling the mat he's sprawled across shifting. Brows furrowing, he finally regains some strength and looks up, uncoordinated and weary. He finds Del Rio standing at attention in front of him on the apron, Morrison running towards Ambrose and striking him in the side of the skull with a high knee, staggering him. They're not done, however, as Alberto follows it up with an enzuigiri that sends Ambrose into the table, the commentators quickly scattering.
John quickly turns to him and helps him to his feet, the referee's sharp commands echoing over their heads, but Morrison ignores him. "You alright?"
"Yeah," he mumbles, still barely able to see as his vision wavers. John pats him on the back a time or two before joining Del Rio back on the apron, not wanting to raise the referee's ire any further. Staggering a bit, Miz finally grabs ahold of Dean and pulls him towards the ring but The Shield member swings out, striking a harsh blow to Mike's face, causing his vision to black out even more. He groans and winces, shaking his head in an attempt to regain control of himself. This has to end, he thinks.
They're still by the table, Miz barely able to see where he's at, much less anything else, when he responds with punches of his own, trying to continue what Del Rio and Morrison had begun. He senses more than sees as Ambrose finally staggers, fumbling around until he has ahold of his arm, moving him into position. When he hits his Skull Crushing Finale, he lands heavily next to him and twitches, unable to move, his reserves finally just tapped between Dean's finisher and the impact of his own on the floor.
He can hear John's voice faintly over the referee's count, but it's not enough. He can't move, he can barely blink. Either way, when the referee finally makes it to ten, both men counted out, Miz's team is deemed the victor anyway because Morrison and Del Rio hadn't been eliminated. Mike's fingers tighten against the blue mat he's once more sprawled across, somewhat relieved that at least they had beat The Shield in the end.
John joins him, hand warm on his shoulders, and he laughs, leaning closer so he can be heard. "Hey, Mike, we won," he says, tugging his tag partner into a sitting position and helping to support him. "Are you ok?"
"I think so," he murmurs, gripping John's shoulder as he tries to stand, oversee the aftermath of the match. Del Rio is walking towards the back already, probably anxious to check on his best friend, and Ambrose is long gone, leaving John and Mike alone to regroup as the crowd buzzes about the match. "Count out, huh?"
"Yeah. Sorry, man."
But Mike shakes his head, just glad that it's over, and their team had won in the end. "No, it's fine. Eliminated Ambrose at least, huh?" He groans, scrubbing at his face. "Skull Crushing Finale has never hurt me that much before..." John smiles a little and squeezes his neck, watching closely as he takes a step and another, heading for the ramp to reconnect with the other members of the team. "I'm ok."
"I know." But John continues to watch, staying close just in case. Thankfully Mike makes it all the way to the back on his own and they walk side by side to the trainer's office, unsurprised to find Del Rio there already, sitting next to Ricardo on a cot. Likewise, Zack and Alex share a couch, the trainer looking a little frazzled at them all converging on his room at once. Thankfully there's a second trainer's room across the building, where 3MB and The Shield- if they had gone there- are probably getting looked over, to keep from further fights breaking out between the two teams.
Mike settles in between Zack and Alex, barely blinking as the trainer begins checking him for a concussion. "You guys alright?" he asks the room in general, lips twitching as a chorus of confirmations come from all corners. "Good, good."
John remains on his feet, there not really being any room for him, and he smirks. "So how are we going to celebrate this?"
Mike wants to suggest sleep, certain that he's not the only one who feels like that amongst his teammates, but finally snarks, "By you telling us how you were allowed to compete here?"
John merely blinks, clearly expecting questions like that to come eventually. "Would you believe me if I told you it was AJ?"
The room goes quiet, still. Mike swallows. "What?" He looks around the room, taking in how all of them look surprised...except for Zack. He narrows his eyes at him. "You knew? That's why you've been acting weird the past few days?"
Zack shrugs. "I overheard some stuff, bro. I didn't think a lot of it, but yeah, that's why I stayed with Del Rio and Ricardo last night. I wasn't sure when he was going to show up."
Mike sighs, shaking his head. The situation was more than a little ridiculous, and could've gone badly a number of ways, but when he glances over at John, visibly waiting for him to blow up or overreact in some way, he feels all unhappiness fade from him. No matter how it'd happened, or why, John's here, they'd had a match together on the same side, and had won. He absolutely does not feel like worrying about whatever it is AJ is doing, especially now that he knows it's temporary and before long John will be gone back to California again.
Once the trainer finishes with them all, the room still subdued after John's explanation of the one-night only contract that AJ had provided him with, Mike sighs and stands. "C'mon, guys, let's go find some way to celebrate." None of them are up to much, he's sure, so it'll probably just be some lowkey diner for a quick meal and maybe a couple of drinks before they all go back to the hotel and pass out, but with Morrison by his side, even that sounds pretty awesome, considering.
He's just walked out into the hallway when he spots the girl who'd somehow taken it upon herself to set this all up. Mike breaks away from the group and approaches her, warily eyeing Ziggler and Big E as they lurk nearby, watching him suspiciously. "AJ."
She tilts her head, smirking up at him. "What do you want, Mike?"
"You convinced the board to allow John back? Just for this match?" He's not sure what to think about it. How to feel. He's sure many were making fun of him, coming just short of getting the needed six men for his team, and here the one he'd expected to laugh at his expense the hardest had actually done something to help.
She smirks at him, some unreadable emotion lingering in her dark eyes. "Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you. I did it to prove that I could, for myself. See, the fact that you were using me to rehire him wasn't the only thing that bothers me about that time- the fact I couldn't get him his job back also ate at me. And now, even if it was just temporary, I succeeded at getting him back in WWE." She callously turns her back on him, skipping back towards Ziggler and E. "It was never about you, Mike."
He swallows, watching her go, before shrugging and turning back to his uncomfortable, sympathetic looking friends. "Hey, come on, guys. Let's get out of here. I'm hungry." He's not, not after all of that, but it distracts them from what had just been said and that's good enough for him.
After some driving around, they find an out of the way place that serves decent enough burgers and most kinds of drinks with spacious, wrap around booths that all six of them fit in. Mike finds himself sandwiched between Morrison and Alex, Del Rio, Ricardo and Zack rounding out the other side of the table, and smiles, finding that, even if it's just for one night, things finally feel right again.