((Who am I to tell the masses no? I was going to do them separately, but I have a bunch of prompts to be done, so these are being put together. Inspired by some posts in the Sandow tag.))
Your muse’s revenge fantasy comes true, at a horrible cost.Â
Always protect the Moneymaker. That was the major task given to Damien Sandow when the Miz discussed the deal with him. The role of a stunt double was to follow the lead of the star and to take the brunt of the damage they would take.
What wasn't part of the agreement was the complete dismissal of his own skills when they weren't being used to accentuate the Miz.
This didn't escape the Miz's notice.
The Miz tested the crowd. A serious expression passed over his face every time the crowd roared for Damien "Mizdow" instead of him. His stunt double wasn't doing anything to discourage them either. Instead, a look of bewildered joy would tease his expression.
Damien Sandow could barely believe his ears when he heard the first chant for him what was then weeks ago. When he realized it was catching, it was too hard to resist the temptation to egg the people on. When one had once been a Money in the Bank contract holder, the allure of the people's support was too delicious to the taste. At any point he could, Damien gave the crowd a taste of what they wanted.
He forgot one basic fact.
The stunt double isn't supposed to outshine the star.
One night after a taping, the Miz decided to remind him what exactly the role Damien "Mizdow" was supposed to be playing.
Stunt double.
Second fiddle.
Butt monkey.
Replaceable.
As the Miz ranted these words in Damien's face, the patience he prided himself on having ran out.
Once, Damien Sandow became Mr. Money in the Bank. Once, he stood on his own. Once, he bowed to no one he didn't choose to. Once, he had pride.
It was time for Damien's resurgence.
"Shut up!" Damien Sandow roared at the A-lister. He placed his palms on the smaller man's chest and shoved him.
The Miz fell back.
However, instead of hitting his back against the sound equipment, the Miz vanished.
Damien Sandow's eyes bulged as he stared at the empty air where the Miz should have been. His eyes turned from the unoccupied space down to his hands. What just happened? Where did the Miz go?
"Practicing for your next movie, Miz?" Cody Rhodes' voice called out.
His eyebrows furrowed as he turned to give his former tag team partner a dirty look. "Very funny, Rhodes. Just because I copy the Miz in front of the cameras doesn't mean I want to be called by his name backstage."
This time, Cody looked confused. He drew back. "Go see one of the doctors," he said. "I don't understand any of what you just said. Â No one wants the 'A-lister' to suffer from a concussion." With only a shake of his head, Cody walked away.
Damien frowned. He considered what just happened, reaching up to stroke his beard.
On his chin was nothing but peach fuzz.
His eyes grew wide.
The man bolted to the nearest bathroom, shoving people out of his way. He looked in the closest mirror.
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