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Supercard Archives / Re: ARTIE v CONNOR v KRIS v BULLDOG v JUSTIN v GUY - KING FOR A DAY

« Last post by Bobbie Dahl on May 23, 2025, 07:08:27 PM »

A Royal Address
Paris, France
Broadcasting Around The World

It has always been known that the coronation of a new king or queen is always a grand affair. Generally these coronations take place months, sometimes even longer than a year, past the date in which the king or queen ascended to the throne. Regardless of when the coronations are held, it is always a spectacle that no one wants to miss. Sometimes even a once in a lifetime opportunity to witness.

For Sin City Wrestling, such an event will happen every year. Granted their King and Queen are crowned in much different circumstances but a King is a King and a Queen is a Queen right? In just two days time, the King and Queen for A Day matches will be held and everyone will find out just who will hold the honor of King and Queen for A Day…for the next year. Confusing, isn’t it? Come on, this is Sin City Wrestling. Nothing has to make complete sense!

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. You all are about to be graced with your next King For A Day giving his first Royal Address, and everyone around the world will bare witness to the greatness that will ascend to the SCW throne this Sunday. He is all too eager and happy to speak to all of you and show you why he will be the greatest King For A Day that SCW has ever seen and will ever see!

The Royal stage is set. A backdrop of a beautiful palace is displayed and on either side of a podium are stationed two “royal guards.” The camera focuses on the podium for a few moments until it pans out enough to see Artie, or King Arthur rather, walking up to the podium. He is wearing his crown and is dressed in his royal attire complete with a long robe draped around his shoulders. The sounds of camera’s flashing in the background are heard and as he steps up to the podium, he waves to those who may be in attendance, and those watching.

Artie: Bonjour! Hello and good day to all of my royal subjects and those watching at home. Today I stand before you, a humbled man, ready to take on the duty of being your SCW King For A Day. It is a duty that, up until recently, I never imagined I would have the incredible honor to have.

He pauses for a moment, gripping each side off the podium and maintaining a grateful smile on his face. He looks around, as if looking at anyone who may be in attendance but off camera before turning his focus back into the camera.

Artie: I did not imagine I would be your King For A Day, but as the day quickly approaches, I have had many visions and realizations that have proven to me that I will indeed be crowned your SCW King For A Day despite the several obstacles that will be standing in my way. Obstacles in the form of five other opponents. But try as they might, they will walk away disappointed and empty handed!

As he pauses again, clapping and cheering can be heard in the background, the sounds of a large group of supporters. He smiles again and nods his head slowly.

Artie: Before I am crowned your new SCW King For A Day on Sunday, taking over the throne from one of the very men I will be facing, I want to take a few moments to address that very man. He has held the crown and the title for the last year, but I can not stand before you and say that he has held either well or with grace! Not at all, because King Guy With a Cape has been a disgrace to the crown. He does not know how to be a true king because he was never meant for the role in the first place.

He takes a few moments to gather his next thoughts and his hands still grip the sides of the podium.

Artie: King Guy has treated this crown, and the responsibilities to you the people as nothing more than a joke. He talks in such a way that proves how uneducated he is and it proves that him winning the crown last year was nothing more than a fluke! A fluke that I unfortunately could not stop happening in the first place, because I fought for the crown last year as well. But, you see…I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t worthy and in my weakness, it allowed someone like Guy With a Cape to take the crown for himself. And he believes I am trying to steal it from him?

He raises his right hand and index finger, waving it back and forth in a “no, no, no” fashion.

Artie: Wrong, King Guy! Very wrong! It is YOU who stole the crown from ME last year. And I am simply doing what needs to be done to bring it back to where it belongs! To the one true king, King Arthur! You had your moment, King Guy. You made the matches of your choosing for an episode of Climax Control, but it simply will NOT happen again! On Sunday, you return to your role as a peasant and royal subject to ME. And maybe if you are nice, I will give you a decent match in return. But we shall see.

He smiles and rests his hands on the podium for a moment, giving them a break from the grip he had on it. He looks around at all of his “royal subjects”, smiling proudly before moving on with his address.

Artie: And then we have the four remaining men looking to take the crown for themselves, no doubt if that should happen would prove to be an even bigger embarrassment than King Guy. Men like “Bulldog” Bill Barnhardt. No doubt Bill is just short for William, but to avoid any confusion by addressing him as such and any of you mixing him up with the future King of England, I will simply refer to him as the theoretical…King Bulldog. Because he definitely stinks like one.

He pauses and laughs, as other laughs are heard in response. He waves his hand in front of his face as if waving off a terrible stench.

Artie: Can you all imagine a King Bulldog? I for one, can not. His performance as King would no doubt be just as terrible and lackluster as his wrestling career has been, which proves to not only me but to each and every one of you that Bulldog Bill Barnhardt is NOT meant for the crown!

His hands return to the sides of the podium as his address continues.

Artie: I listened to the words Bill had for each of us in this match last week. I listened, and I laughed because I think it killed a few of my brain cells in the process. He feels that addressing each of us alphabetically has any bearing on him being biased, which is absurd. But, address us in whatever order you wish, Bulldog Bill, because it won’t matter in the end. You will still walk away disappointed and empty handed. And let me just add, perhaps you should get your facts straight before addressing the men you are facing, because when you speak nothing but nonsense, it makes you look even less intelligent.

He chuckles and shakes his head.

Artie: I don’t know what world Bulldog Bill is living in, but to my knowledge there were no qualifying matches for this King For A Day match. Rather the participants were chosen by Mark Ward and Christian Underwood as those they thought were worthy of fighting for the crown. How they thought Bulldog Bill was worthy to be put in this match, again, is beyond me, but I will not question their decision. Instead, I will show them why going forward, he should not be given another opportunity to fight to be King.

Clapping is heard in response and Artie nods.

Artie: Dare I say that Jusin Smith would hypothetically make a better king than Bulldog Bill Barnhardt.

He shudders and shakes his head.

Artie: No. I can not say that, because it is an impossible thought. Just as Bulldog Bill will not be King, Justin Smith certainly will not. There will be no King Justin as long as I have anything to say about it, and as you can tell, I have quite a lot to say. Much more than Justin Smith ever has to say to any of his opponents. If he spoke any less, he’d be a mute and we simply can not have a man…a child, such as that being your King For A Day!

He shakes his head again and speaks more determined than ever.

Artie: Justin has so little respect that he didn’t even bother to address each of his opponents one by one, but rather as a group. And he thinks he could defeat us as a group? He is sorely mistaken! He needs to do his homework and learn more about what it is to be a wrestler because if he doesn’t, he will never achieve anything. And surely his mentors will continue to be disappointed by their student.

He lowers his head as he pauses for another moment. Once he gathers his next thoughts he looks back up into the camera.

Artie: It amazes me that there are still people out there that believe Justin Smith is more worthy of being King For A Day than myself. It’s astounding, really, because what has he done to be worthy of being your King? What could he possibly do as your King that would make him such a great King For A Day? I have wrecked my brain over and over again and I just cannot figure out the answer, so if anyone knows, please let me know.

He shrugs and shakes his head yet again.

Artie: I will give Justin Smith props for one thing, and not just him, but Guy With a Cape and Bulldog Bill Barnhardt as well. They did something that the last two men in this match did not, which is an even bigger disrespect. They all at least had the decency and respect to address their opponents, doing what is expected of you leading into such a big match. I had expected so much more from Kristopher Ryans and Connor Murphy. Kristopher Ryans I had even placed as having decent odds of somehow walking away with the crown, but now?

He brings his hand up to cup his right ear, as if trying to hear something.

Artie: What does he have to say for himself now? What words could he possibly speak to prove that he deserves to be King For A Day now when he has been radio silent against the men he is looking to take the crown from? There is absolutely nothing he could say, that is what. He has proven himself a disappointment and if I am honest, I no longer fear going up against him. If anything, I am much looking forward to it! Because I, King Arthur, will embarrass the Hall of Fame former World Heavyweight Champion!

He smiles and slams his fist into the podium with increasing determination.

Artie: Kristopher Ryans…never should have returned to SCW. He should have remained in the shadows where he disappeared. He has done everything there is for him to do in SCW, and adding the King For A Day crown will not be added to those accomplishments. He is not worthy and he never will be! And for the disrespect he has shown, I already have an idea just how to punish him on my edition of Climax Control. And it will be glorious!

He raises his fist in the air and cheers follow.

Artie: And the same goes for that silent Nobody, Connor Murphy! He, too, returned recently to SCW and has been attempting to return to the glory he was in once before, but sadly for him, he just can not seem to shake his past away to be seen as somebody. Or somebody worthy of a crown and being called King For a Day!

He suddenly removes the crown from his head, holding it forward and closer to the camera.

Artie: He does not have what it takes to wear this crown or take on the responsibilities that come with it. He may be trained by the great Vixen, but either she has not taught him well, or there just is no hope for Connor to ever achieve any sort of greatness. And I shudder to think of what he would do if he somehow managed to steal the crown for himself.

He puts the crown back on his head and shudders.

Artie: Not to worry, my royal subjects! We will not find out what he would do, because I will be the one winning this match on Sunday. I will take on the name of King Arthur and then I will ensure that for my episode of Climax Control, it will be a show no one will ever forget! This world has been filled with a lot of fear and uncertainty, but fear not!

He takes one step back from the podium briefly, gathering his next thoughts. All is quiet as they wait for him to continue. After a few moments he steps back up and speaks again.

Artie: You can all have hope. You can all think positive thoughts and look forward to the future because the future under King Arthur is a bright one! Put your faith in me, my royal subjects! Believe in me! Listen to the words I have spoken and know that I am ready to be your SCW King For A Day and I will not let any of you down! I will wear this crown with dignity and be the greatest King of all time!!

Louder cheers and applause follows and he throws his arms out to his side with pride and confidence.

Artie: All Hail King Arthur! All Hail King Arthur!

Everyone starts chanting All Hail King Arthur in return and he steps back and away from the podium, closing his eyes. He listens and takes in the energy, using it as fuel for his desire and need to win the crown on Sunday. And the way he is feeling, there is absolutely no one that can stop him.

What. Just. Happened?! Artie had never saw himself putting on such a spectacle as he just did moments ago, but he somehow felt…great. The cameras were off and his performance was done, but he felt like he could have continued for much longer. As he walks out of the room where his promotion was just taped, he’s quickly caught off guard as Bobbie throws her arms around him and hugs him tight.

Bobbie: Oh. My. Gosh!!! ARTIE! That was…the greatest thing I’ve ever seen! I’ve never even done anything like that!!

Artie smiles and laughs as Bobbie releases her hold on him.

Artie: You really think so? I don’t…I don’t know how I was able to do that, but it all just…came to me.

Bobbie: I KNOW so, sweetie! That was epic! And I’m soooo proud of you!!!

She takes his face with both of her hands and gives him a big kiss. He smiles even bigger as Bobbie steps back a bit.

Artie: I hoped it showed just how much I want to win this match on Sunday. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I think I stand a fair shot. It’s just too bad you’re not in the Queen for A Day this year like last year.

Bobbie waves off this tought.

Bobbie: Pfffft. I wouldn’t stand a chance because even on my best day I’ve never been as great as that! You’ve got this in the bag!

Artie shrugs as he removes the crown from his head and the robe from around his shoulders.

Artie: I hope so, but I guess we’ll find out on Sunday. I just don’t want to let you or anyone down. I haven’t exactly been doing very well since deciding to become an active wrestler.

Bobbie: I didn’t either when I first started, but then again I was just having fun. I wasn’t taking it seriously so I didn’t care if I won or lost. But don’t ever think you’re letting me down in any way! You’ve always done right by me.

Artie: I know, but…

He stops and goes silent for a few moments unsure of what he even wants to say. Bobbie stares at him, waiting.

Artie: What about when we finally have kids? I don’t want them to think I’m a loser or a failure. I want to be a dad that they can be proud of and tell their friends, that’s MY dad. If I keep up with this wrestling and just keep losing, I’ll be an embarrassment.

He walks over to a nearby chair and sits down, holding the crown in his hands and just staring at it.

Bobbie: Listen to me.

Bobbie takes a seat next to him and places her hand on his, and he looks up into her eyes.

Bobbie: You will never be an embarrassment. You’re going to win this match on Sunday. I can feel it. And then you’re going to achieve more success than I ever did. Our kids will be proud every single day.

Artie: I want this more than any of the other guys I’m facing, Bobbie. Even Guy With a Cape.

They both share a laugh.

Artie: I mean he wants it, just not for the same reason as I do. I dunno. Sorry to be such a bummer all of a sudden. I’m just super confident but nervous at the same time. Does that even make sense?

Bobbie nods and laughs.

Bobbie: Absolutely! Happens to me all the time, especially with big matches like this. You just gotta let the confidence be more than the nerves and doubt. You shouldn’t even be nervous after what you just did with that whole Royal Address. You were really in your element. Never seen that before.

Artie: Well I couldn’t do this without you. I’m trying my best for you. You’ve always been the strong one, so that’s what I’m trying to be. Even if it’s hard for the both of us.

A pained silence falls between the both of them as their thoughts quickly drift to Bobbie’s recent miscarriage. Artie was having a difficult time with it, but he was doing his best to be strong, and Bobbie hadn’t really noticed. Until now.

Bobbie: We haven’t really talked about the miscarriage. I’ve been so distant myself I guess I didn’t see that you are hurting just as much and needed me. I’m really sorry.

Artie shakes his head and rubs Bobbie’s back.

Artie: Don’t be sorry. It’s different for women, so I understand. I was just giving you the space and time you needed to process it.

Bobbie: Yeah, but we’re a team! We always have been and always will be. But now that we’re sort of talking about it, I don’t think I want to try and get pregnant again. I don’t think I can be one of those women who go through miscarriage after miscarriage.

Artie nods.

Artie: Okay. I mean, it’s your body, Bobbie.

Bobbie: I want us to adopt.

Another silence falls between the two. Artie thinks about what she has just said and nods slowly, processing it all in his mind.

Artie: Okay. Let’s do it. We’ll be awesome parents to a child needing a family.

Bobbie smiles and throws her arms around Artie in a huge embrace. He smiles in return and for the first time in weeks, it feels like an incredible wait has been lifted off his shoulders. And while the pain over Bobbie’s miscarriage would always be there, the excitement over their now agreed upon adoption plan was helping to heal any of that pain.

The future was starting to look a little brighter.

Supercard Archives / A Likely Story

« Last post by HBCarter on May 23, 2025, 06:20:53 PM »

The Kasey Homestead
London, England

The residency of Brianna and Garrett Kasey in which they shared with Brianna and Miles’s mom, Mora, was one of relatively quiet calm and familiarity - at least on this day. The house was empty, save for Miles himself and his niece and nephew. Morrigan was sound asleep in the playpen in the corner of the living room, surrounded by an army of stuffed toys, all standing guard over their little charge. Riley busied himself playing with an impressive array of toys that Carter and Miles had gifted him, much to Brianna and Garrett’s chagrin.

Miles and Carter had taken their duties as the “fun uncles” seriously when they had taken their nephew and niece on a little outing to give their parents a little time to themselves. Of course, had Mom and Dad known what was to come, they might have put a little more thought into the Uncles having free reign for that morning. Because Carter and Miles took the children to the nearest toy store - which just so happened to be Hamleys. This store was, in Carter’s own words, what Toys R Us had strived to be. With a massive selection, it was the prime spot for the Uncles to commence spoiling.

Being less than five months old, the baby just watched from Carter’s arms as they offered one soft plush after another. That was until Miles dangled an Eeyore plush in front of her and her little hands snatched onto it like it was a life preserver. And the moment Eeyore’s nose went in her mouth, the decision was made. Carter then insisted that she couldn’t have just Eeyore without one of each of his ‘friends’ from the Hundred Acre Woods, so plushies of Whinnie the Pooh, Piglet and the rest of the gang were added to her tally.

Riley had struck it rich with his Uncles spoiling him as well, what with toys like the Hot Wheels Shark Car Wash and others. But it was the Sneaky, Snacky Squirrel Game that had both the three year old and his Uncle engrossed. That was until Miles heard the unlocking of the front door and turned his head to see his twin sister entering her home.

“You’re home early.” Miles observed, his sister working as an Esthetician. Brianna paused, taking in the sweet scene and privately felt that her children didn’t get to see enough of her brother - or his husband. Brianna dropped her keys in the ceramic seashell on the accent table beside the front door and she said casually, “I had a light schedule today.”

She then paused and looked around, then found herself asking, “Where’s Carter and Mum?”

Miles, his attention focused solely on the tweezers in the shape of a squirrel, trying to pick up a pebble in the game, answered, “Mum took Carter to her store to explore a bit.” Miles glanced up and added, “I’m hoping she can get him to open up a little.”

To which his sister nodded, having learned from Miles earlier in the week Carter was going through some self doubt issues and needed an impartial ear. It was one of the main reasons they were here - not that Carter knew that. Brianna then asked, “Didn’t you say Carter loved to read?”

Miles nodded, “Mm. He usually has his nose buried in a book in his down time.”

“And he’s something of a shop-o-holic?” She added, her eyebrows raised.

Miles laughed, “Carter got a wedding invite from two different Amazon delivery drivers!”

Brianna then said, her tone taking on a trace of amusement at her brother’s expense, “So you sent him to Mum’s bookstore, a place he might feel obligated to support?”

Miles glanced up, staring at Brianna and she could tell the moment the reality struck him as his eyes went wide and he pursed his lips, “Ooo! I didn’t think of that!”

Brianna sighed, walking past him and she patted him on the shoulder, “Carter’s lucky you’re cute.”

*****

On a side street in London’s Bloomsbury district, there was a small shopping district that favored the tastes of more independent shops and cafes that tended to draw the attention of the tourists and passers by. But there was something special about these smaller shops, particularly the book store that stood nestled between a cafe and a flower shop. It radiated a quaint and timeless charm, its exterior a deep red brick with black awnings over the windows which displayed a variety of employee recommended reads. Golden fairy lights lined the underside of the awning that protected the small exterior nook with two round tables for patrons to sit and enjoy a coffee and a read in the fresh air. And above the door - the name of this locally owned business - “A Likely Story”. This store was the dream realized by the matriarch of the Kasey clan, the very woman who pulled her Nissan Leaf into the reserved parking spot.

Mora stepped out of the driver’s side, followed by her son-in-law, Carter. The young man never grew tired of visiting London, and to discover his mother-in-law was the proprietor of her very own bookstore absolutely enthralled him. She watched with no small amount of pride as Carter’s eyes darted everywhere, taking it all in. The window displays. The chalkboard on the pavement that announced local poetry nights and book club meetings. Even the ivy that perfectly framed the front door held a special charm to it. Carter turned to Mora who had joined him at his side and he asked, “This is yours?”

To which she nodded with a smile as she took his arm as a lady does and they walked toward the entrance. Carter took the initiative to open the door for her and he followed her inside and whatever he had expected to find inside failed by comparison.

Well-loved novels from local authors took prominence in this store’s displays; names such as Richard Osman and Colleen Hoover. Obscure titles and handpicked staff favorites along with the usual popular and classics titles by more well known authors filled out the displays. Soft lighting cast a golden glow over reading nooks with comfortable chairs, some filled by the store’s patrons. Mora followed Carter as he found himself exploring, savoring at first that scent of paper that any avid reader could recognize. Then his nostrils took in a new scent as he turned a corner to find a small coffee counter, all the better to draw in readers who enjoyed a coffee while reading something new. Behind the counter, a chalkboard menu listed local drinks and homemade pastries.

“I should have known you would have zeroed in on the coffee.” Mora half joked, well aware of Carter’s coffee addiction. He turned to respond when the pair were interrupted by a cheery voice, “I didn’t know you were coming in today!”

Carter turned to find an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties and to be perfectly honest, resembled Diane Wiest from the film “Practical Magic”. She approached the pair with a charming grace and the type of friendly familiarity that made you instinctively just adore her.

Mora answered her, “I wasn’t planning to, but I wanted to show my son-in-law around.” And that was all the woman had to hear for a gasp, but not one of shock but a delighted surprise.

“Is this Miles’s husband?” She gushed, her older eyes sparkling almost with the delight of a girl a third her age.

“It is.” Mora answered. “Carter? This is my dearest friend, Cora Adkins. She manages the store. Cora, this is Carter…”

Carter took a step forward to offer Cora his hand but found himself suddenly enveloped in a big hug, the woman reacting as if he was some long lost relation, exclaiming, “Oh it’s so nice to meet you!” While Carter himself reacted with surprise, “Oh! You’re a hugger! That’s alright. I am too.”

Carter finally managed to separate himself from the syrupy sweet friend of Mora’s. She then looked over his shoulder to Mora and said, “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

Carter watched her walk back behind the counter piled high with books and he turned to Mora and observed, “I bet she knows the words to every Mary Poppins song, doesn’t she?” To which Mora took his arm again and allowed him to guide her as he explored her store.

Carter instinctively wandered to the fantasy section, his preferred genre of books. His eyes roamed over the selection of titles when he stopped on one in particular: a very nice hardcover edition of the Lord of the Rings.

“Carter, what are you doing?” Mora asked as she watched Carter pulled the volume from the shelf and tuck it into his arms. He sheepishly glanced around until he shifted his eyes to her and answered, “Uhhh, we’re in a bookstore? I’m buying a book.”

“You’re my son’s husband.” Mora stepped up, pointing to the volume in his possession. “Do you honestly think I’d charge you?”

But Carter proved to be equally as stubborn, stating, “You’re Miles’s Mom. Do you really think I wouldn’t support your business?” Leaving her without an immediate response but still, a pleasant feeling as she watched him continue to explore.

He picked up an edition of the literary classic, “the Picture of Dorian Gray” and finally, his gaze fell on “The Priory of the Orange Tree” by Samantha Shannon, its vibrant cover and promise of dragons too tempting to resist. That was when Mora felt best to reel him in, stating, “Okay, I think that’s enough for now before that son of mine has a fit.” Pulling him away before Carter could make for the small table adorned in rainbow colors and filled with books representing the LGBTQ community for the upcoming Pride month….

*****

Carter had just settled into a corner table near the window, his newly chosen books stacked neatly beside him, when Mora appeared with two steaming cups. She slid one across the table to him with a smile, the rich aroma of roasted beans curling between them before taking the seat opposite him. Carter nodded his thanks and took a drink, savoring the surprisingly rich and flavorful taste.

That was when he found his mother-in-law's hand covering his own, drawing his attention to her warm, caring expression. She said “So, how have you been?”

“Me?” He questioned, seemingly caught off guard. “I'm fine. Miles and I are doing…”

“Carter,” Mora said softly, her fingers curling around his own. “I'm not asking about you and Miles. I want to know how you're doing.” Emphasis on the "you're”.

Carter stared into her eyes, trying to decipher what brought this on when it suddenly struck him. The answer. He closed his eyes and exhaled, “Miles talked to you, didn't he?”

“Of course he did.” Mora answered calmly. “Why else do you think he decided to take a detour from the capital of romance to visit home? He's worried about you.”

Carter shook his head “He doesn't have to…”

“Well he is.” She cut him off. “You know that son of mine. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He makes other people's troubles his own.”

“It’s one of the reasons why I love the man.” Carter said with a smile, setting his coffee down. “But he can’t keep doing that for his own mental health. Plus, this is as much a professional issue as it is personal. And Miles isn’t exactly impartial when it comes to my career.”

“He wants what’s best for you.” Mora smiled. “Being confident in someone you love isn’t a terrible trait.”

Carter said, “I know. He’s my biggest supporter. But with what’s going on, I think what I need is the exact opposite. That’s why my first instinct was to call my own Mom.”

“What do you mean?” Mora frowned. “Doesn’t your Mom support your career?”

“She never wanted me to be involved in wrestling.” Carter answered, shaking his head. “Every time I get hurt, it’s just another tally on her list of why I should get out of the sport. She and Grams barely watch my matches because it scares them so much.”

“That last match must have really done a number on them.” Mora observed, to which Carter nodded and said, “Yeah. My phone was lighting up before I ever made it to the hospital and … Wait, you watch?”

“Of course I do.” She said, “I might not be the biggest fan of wrestling but I am a fan of my son. And you.” She gave his hand a shake. “So talk to me.”

“I couldn’t even talk to my own therapist.” Carter shook his head, even though deep-down he felt the need to confide in someone. “I didn’t come all the way to London just to unload on you.”

Mora took Carter’s hand and wrapped it in her own, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. She said, “You listen to me, Carter. I have always - always - told my kids that they could come to me wherever they needed someone. And like it or not, for better or worse, you’re one of my kids now.”

Their eyes remained on one another’s until Carter’s lips turned upright in a smile and he nodded. He picked his almost forgotten coffee up again and slowly confided, “I really don’t even know what’s wrong with me. That’s the problem. I was fine going into the Elimination Chamber, even though everyone thought I’d never make it to the end. Then even after I did win, I was left wondering if I even should have because Jayden was a sitting duck thanks to Vincent Lyons.”

“Questioning the past is not going to do you any good.” Mora observed, her chin resting on her curled fingers. “You can’t change the past and if you continue wondering ‘what if,’ you’ll drown in self doubt.”

“Yeah, well… I’m already at that point.” Carter admitted in defeat. “I’ve had so many chances at the World Championship - and every time I’ve fallen flat on my face. In the tournament, I was eliminated in the first round. I challenged Finn and he beat me. Hell! Alex Jones even beat me and he hasn’t shut up about it since.”

Mora just sat there listening rather than intervene, knowing he needed to vent. Carter continued, “And ever since our match was made official, I keep having people tell me that I’m a failure. I always come close to the gold but I’m unable to go that extra mile to actually win it. Alex especially has been running me down, telling the world I don’t have what it takes to get the job done.”

“I imagine he means fighting dirty.” Mora said, to which Carter nodded. “It looked like you did pretty well for yourself when you were fighting with him. You’re not the one who was left running away.”

“I know.” Carter whispered. “I just-”

“You can’t let him get into your head, Carter.” She said, "That’s exactly what he wants: to throw you off your game before it even begins. You’ve trained too hard and come too far to let kindergarten mind games unravel everything. Stay focused on what you can control, not the noise he’s trying to make. Trust your instincts, trust your training. Block him out and play your game. Not his.”

Carter sat still as Mora’s words settled around him. He didn’t speak or nod, his hand still held lovingly by the woman seated across from him. Slowly, his shoulders eased, and his breath came a little more evenly. He looked up and into her eyes and just smiled.

“Thank you.”

The room was bathed in white - from floor to ceiling, and entirely empty save for the matching sofa and desk. The uniform whiteness reflected the overhead track lighting intensely, erasing depth and distorting perception, evoking feelings of isolation and sterility. Without any decor, the mind may begin to drift inward, amplifying thoughts and emotions.

The lone door that was almost invisible opened and in walked Miles Kasey in bleach-white scrubs, carrying a mannequin draped in a straight jacket with a magazine’s likeness of Alex Jones pasted on its face. Miles nonchalantly dropped the mannequin onto the sofa and turned to look off camera.

“Oy! That basketcase patient of yours is ready doc!”

“Ah! Excellen Seig Heil!”

A voice with an obviously fake German accent called out. And there in the camera's range walked Doctor Carter Von Bottom. Clad in a suit, his hair clicked back, thick rimmed glasses and to top it off, a pointy beard glued to his chin. He stepped up to the sofa and as he left, Miles was unable to resist grabbing a handful of the good doctors backside.

Dr Carter watched as his aide took his leave before he turned back toward his patient, the viewpoint being from the mannequin itself seemingly.

“So! You haf kome to me Alex Jones fur help since you haf a problem vitt your noodle!”

He tapped a forefinger to his temple before clasping his hands behind his back.

“Zis is fery good! I always tell mein patients zat ze first schtep to recovery is admittingkt zat you haf a problem. Undt between you undt me…”

He leaned in closer toward the patient.

“I haf never met a more problematic man above ze neck zan you Alex Jones. You are a vorld class azzlete who has been respected by fan undt peer alike, undt here you schtand - or lay - ready to yust throw it all aside. Just fur ze sake un taking ze easy vay out razzer zan earn your vay to your position as you vere once known to do. You cheat, Alex. or shall ve say, your schtrumpet Aaron Asphyxia, cheats for you. Undt vhile ze respectable zing vould be fur you to earn vhat you haf, much like vhen Aaron lays on your bed undt gives you ze full cowgirl, you take ze easy vay out.”

Doctor Carter began to pace back and forth in front of the patient.

“Now you must ask, vhy iz zis? Vhy do I cheat vhen I haf proven many times zat I do not need to? To get to ze root uff ze problem, ve must first explore vhy so many ozzers in sports uff all kinds feel ze need to cheat. People cheat in sports for a variety uff reasons, often schtemmingkt from a desire to vin at all kosts, wezzer for fame, financial reward, or personal ego. It iz ze allure uff victory, ze pressure to perform, undt even personal feelings uff inadequacy zat kan all contribute to cheatingkt behaviors.”

“For some athletes, vinningkt isn't just about ze trophy, but about proving zeir worth undt maintainingkt a positive self-image. At zis schtage uff your career, Alex, zis might just be ze answer zat ve seek. You vant people to remember you beingkt at your very best, even vhen zey are vatchingkt you at your vorst. For men like you, any attention is goot attention.”

“Vhile it is true zat some athletes may feel zey lakk zee natural ability or hafe an injury zat prefents zem from performink optimally, leadink zem to cheat to compensate. In your kase, zis is far from true because you have proven many times in zee past zat you neet not go zee low road to achieve ultimate viktory. You serft as a vonderful example to zee younger generations - both fan ant peer alike. So vhy zen do you not compete nov as sie dit once before?”

“Could it be because you look at zee kurrent playink field, your fellow wrestlers in zee locker room, ant sie see zem as younger. More fit? Perhaps efen shtrategikally superior inside of zee ring? If zis is zee case, zen zee answer voult be klear. Zee shtrong desire to excel ant outperform others can also kontribute to cheating, as athletes may see it as a vay to level zee playink fielt or gain an unfair advantage.”

“Or, could it be simple because…”

Dr Carter proceeded to remove first his glasses and then he stripped the fake pointy beard from his chin and he stared hard into the camera.

“Because you’re a fucked up asshole with all the morals and self respect of Donald Trump on his knees beneath the desk in the Oval office, giving blowjobs to Vladimir Putin!?”

Reaching back blindly behind him, Carter grabbed the one lone chair in the office and swiftly pulled it close behind him and dropped to it, still staring into the camera - IE the patient Alex Jones.

“Why don’t I just do the both of us a favor Alex and cut the bullshit? You can try to delve into the psyche of any one person who cheats in sports but there is one universal truth amongst the many: they are not victims. You - are not a victim! The truth of the matter is that your moral compass is obviously broken! Or maybe it was just never installed. You're like a GPS for ethical dilemmas, leading everyone straight into a pit of shame and regret. It really is impressive how you can navigate your life with a sense of right and wrong that’s as nonexistent as your ability to make a decent decision. Which leaves me to wonder, just what the rest of Wolfslair think of your recent life choices? In retrospect, I would like to think they remember just how you thoroughly chastised and reprimanded Miles for when he attacked Finn from behind. You lashed out at him verbally for his actions, leading such names as Alicia Lukas and Austin James Mercer to agree and turn their backs on Miles, acting as if the man never even existed!”

“And then you turn around and do not the same, but much worse. You beat the shit out of Finn badly enough that you ended up getting yourself disqualified. You pressured the higher ups for a rematch so that you could tie up your loose ends and what did you do? Oh we all know what you did! You embarrassed yourself and dragged the reputation of Wolfslair down into the mud by relying on Aaron to win the championship for you! I can’t recall Alicia ever needing help in order to pull off a win! Even at his worst, when did Austin ever have to rely on outside interference to pull off one of his many impressive wins? Maybe, just maybe… Everyone else in Wolfslair is about to open their eyes and see you for what you’ve become; a hypocritical shell of his former self! A blight on this sport that is going to drag their names down with you, the longer they bother associating with you!”

Carter stood up so fast that the swivel office chair beneath him was sent spinning back, settling hard against the desk.

“So let me ask you this, Alex. Why now? Before that first title match against Finn, you seemed quite content with your role in catering and being at best, a mid card Superstar. So what crawled up your ass and made you change your outlook on things? Because let’s face facts; your head is so far up your ass that it’s probably wher4e you do your best thinking! I am going to hazard a guess here and theorize that you decided that you were at a pretty late stage of your career. There’s been whispers in the locker rooms about that back injury of yours long before Finn Whelan ever made it public. And the rumors of a possible imminent retirement had tongues wagging for months. And yet there you were! Sitting in the background, away from the cameras and listening, allowing all of these people to give voice to your own self doubts. Your back concerned you as it should, and everything they had to say was only making it worse. You wondered how much longer you could go on inside of the ring from a physical standpoint and here your peers and the fans were speculating the same! Maybe even thinking it was time that you hung up your boots and let the younger generation take control and lead things from hereon in. And that right there is where you snapped.”

“Because when all is said and done, you are a self-admitted, self absorbed, egomaniacal twat waffle! You were watching the younger generation Superstars like myself take center stage and you just couldn't stand to share the spotlight! You truly believed that the further up the ladder men like me made it, the farther down you were getting pushed! So you shoved us out of the way and went to take back the spotlight that quite frankly, at this point in your career, you didn't deserve!”

“Try something new for a change Alex, and be honest. Who the hell did you defeat to earn that title match against Finn in the first place? You can't say that you beat Miles because for all your bravado and bluster, he took you to the absolute limit in a time limit draw! Yet somehow the very next week you get announced as the Challenger against Finn!”

Carter held out his arms in stark disbelief at the reasoning.

“I don't know if you played nice and played some bullshit political agenda with Mark or Christian, but in no way did you deserve that title match! Even less so did you deserve the rematch afterwards because you fucking blew it! You got disqualified by your own accord! And yet you have the balls to strut out here and question my validity as to why I'm your challenger!? At least I earned my place against you! At least I had the balls to step inside the Elimination Chamber which is a hell of a lot more than you can say! I had to go through six other men in order to get this chance against you for the Championship! I even went so far as to fight my own husband to get to this point, so don’t ever fucking tell me that I don’t have what it takes to go the distance against you! Don’t you believe for one second that I am not in my rightful place because I am exactly where I belong!”

“But you, Alex? It is truly impressive how you've managed to stumble upon success recently without even breaking a sweat. I mean, who knew that being an ass kisser and ‘being in the right place at the right time was an actual talent? Bravo!”

Carter applauded openly and quite brazenly.

“Alex, your success is like a participation trophy for a race you were too slow to even enter. It’s a pity that mediocrity can still find a way to stumble into the spotlight. You're like a broken pencil: pointless and always trying to take shortcuts, but in the end, you just prove that cheating is the only way you can even pretend to compete against men who have a longer and brighter future in this business than you could ever pretend to.”

“And yes.”

Carter nodded knowingly, but there was anything but merriment or even sarcasm in his eyes. It was something harder - darker.

“I am well aware I probably said some things that you were expecting. But in my defense, it's hard not to be predictable Alex. One can only say so much of variety week after week when dealing with an asshole that's as one dimensional as you are. It's like your personality took a shortcut through a flat field and forgot to pick up any depth along the way! You are not the unique and trail blazing star that you like to believe yourself to be! Do you think yourself unique? Do you believe that you’re something special and that everyone around you looks on in envy?”

Carter rolled his eyes.

“Bitch! You are not the special snowflake that you’ve led yourself to believe! Trust me when I say this: that there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of wrestling promotions around the world - and in every single one of those promotions, there is a man just like you! When God or whatever deity you may choose to believe in made you, he, she or they did not break the mold! They just took one look at you and hit factory reset and churned out one right after the other! Hoping to eventually get it right but thus far have fallen short. You're like something limited edition. Everyone pretends to care, but deep down, we all know you're just another common print in a world full of masterpieces.”

Carter nodded.

“Yeah. You got one over on me. But here’s the thing: that was back in March. You act as if it was a cakewalk but it took two of your curb stomps to put me down! I gave you a bigger fight than you were ready for and deep down, that’s what got into your head. The fact that you practically passed out from the pain and exhaustion to pin me in that match. And when I won the Chamber, you realized that you and I were going to meet again but this time? The stakes would be higher. So you went the extra mile with the insults, telling me that I didn’t deserve to be where I am now. How I always get close to the brass ring, only to let it slip from out of my grasp. Sound familiar, Alex?”

“And all this time, you thought that you were in my head when the opposite has been true.”

Carter took a step closer to the door and opened it up, giving the camera one last look.

“I’m in your head now Alex, and after you see me holding up what used to be your precious World Heavyweight title? You’ll never get me out!”

He slammed the door shut behind him.

Supercard Archives / “ 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗨𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗗𝗘 ”

« Last post by Jayden on May 23, 2025, 06:19:54 PM »

Every hospital always seemed to be the same. It was chilly. It gave a bit of an ominous and even at times scary feeling. Most hospitals didn’t exactly feel the most inviting place on earth. Jayden would know that feeling more than most. With all the time he had spent in the hospital within the last year thanks to numerous injuries. And he was feeling it right now as he walked through the halls of the Necker-Enfants Malades Hospital. It was himself, a nurse, and a translator. Hearing the nurse speaking up as they approached a set of doors.

Nurse: Bienvenue dans notre aile terminale pour les enfants!

Of course Jayden’s expression said it all. Not the most fluent in any language other than his own. Oh and enjoy spanish to get himself in trouble. Right away the translator doing their job,

Translator: She said welcome to our terminal wing for children.

Jayden: Why is she saying it so excitedly?!

Translator: Jayden!

Jayden: What? She is. Seems kind of fucked up if you ask me. Especially if these kids are terminal.

Translator: Just go!

The two of them started to follow behind the nurse. She pushed those doors open into a separate wing of the hospital. Several rooms were on each side of the hall. Each room has a child in it. Some alone. Some with their families. It was a haunting and very sad sight to see. The three of them kept walking until a nurse stopped right outside of one of the rooms.

Nurse: Voici la chambre de George. Il a hâte de te rencontrer, Jayden !

Again. Jayden’s attention went right to the translator.

Translator: She said this is George’s room and that he very excited to meet you.

Jayden: That’s dope. Can we go in?

The nurse at least understood what he was saying and didn’t need any translation of her own. She eagerly nodded her head and opened the door for the two of them. Jayden walked in followed by the translator. George opened his eyes from the bed he was lying in. A very faded smile crossed the young man’s lips. He looked exhausted, but the fact he was able to smile said a lot. In an attempt to make things easier. The translator spoke to the young boy first.

Translator: Parles-tu anglais George?

George: Quelques.

This led to the translator turning her head to Jayden. Giving him a small nod. Almost as if it was okay for him to attempt to communicate.

Jayden: Hey there man.

George: Bonjour Jayden!

Jayden: How are you hanging in there?

George: Fatiguée.

Jayden: Tired? I am sorry to hear that. Hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I got to Paris and I was told by a couple of people. You were a big fan of wrestling. Big fan of mine too from what I hear.

George: Yes! Been following your career.

Jayden: Eh, it ain’t much of one. I am still trying to find my footing. Trying to figure out what works. What doesn’t work. Got a lot of work to do still.

George: Soon. You’ll be a champion.

Jayden: I can only hope, but it’s not so easy. Excited for a big event to be happening in your hometown though? I don’t know how often SCW has even visited Paris before now.

George: Very excited. I waited for SCW event here in Paris. Long time now. My twin sister and I both.

Jayden: That’s awesome man. I’ve always wanted to compete here in Paris at least once. Kind of got this bucket list of my own of countries I want to wrestle in. This is crossing one off. But I know it is probably a bummer. You’re not going to get to be there in person on Sunday. I’d be willing to bet you and your sister are going to get together to at least watch it online right?

Silence immediately fell over their conversation. The sick boy kind of lowered his eyes some and he shook his head from side to side.

George: No. She is no longer with me.

Jayden: Aw. I am sorry to hear that.

George: Diagnosed with the same rare disease. Miss her daily. But she told me before she left. We’d be seeing each other soon.

Jayden: Soon? Nah man. You’ll see each other again one day, but not soon. I can tell you’re a fighter. I can tell you got one hell of a heart inside of you. You got the ability to overcome whatever the doctors told you. I can get that vibe out of you.

George: But My twin. We did everything together. We had big dreams together. Big goals for each other. I am very tired of fighting without her.

Jayden: You may have done everything together. It doesn’t mean that you have to give up your fight because she’s no longer here. I guarantee you, that’s not what she would have wanted for you at all.

For a moment. Jayden just shook his head. Not really believing what he was hearing. Not something that he himself was willing to even accept.

Jayden: You are still here. You got to live for yourself. You got to fight for yourself. You’ve got to overcome this for yourself. It’s okay to be selfish at times. Those dreams and goals of yours can still be accomplished. You’ll just have to do it on your own. It doesn’t mean you’re disrespecting her or her memory. It doesn’t mean you are forgetting about her. If anything you’re honoring her. And nothing would make her smile more as she’s looking down over you.

George: You really believe that?

Jayden: I do believe that. So, I’m telling you. As someone that you are a fan of and as someone that believes in the fighter you are. I want you to fight hard for yourself. I want you to start aiming to accomplish those goals and dreams. I want you to watch Into The Void this weekend and enjoy it just as much as you would if your sister was here. Because I am going to check back in before I leave. I want to hear what you thought of the show. I want to hear some progress with you. Do I make myself clear?

George: I understand. Merci Jayden! Merci!

Jayden: No need to thank me, dude. Thank you for being a fan and thank you for being an inspiration. You might not know it right now, but you are.

That smile was a little bigger and a little warmer on the child’s face. Jayden reached out with his hand. Leading to George doing the same with a small fist bump. From there Jayden and his translator walked back out of the room. The nurse just outside waiting for them to start walking them back down the hall.

Translator: What was that?

Jayden: What was what?

Translator: You’re out there giving that little boy false hope. He’s terminal Jayden. There is no coming back from this.

Jayden: I refuse to believe anything like that. Diseases suck. Cancer sucks. Yes, it claims lives. Lots of them every single year, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up. He shouldn’t give up. Damn sure shouldn’t give up just because his sister isn’t here anymore.

Translator: You don’t understand that a bond twins tend to share with each other. It’s a bond that normal siblings don’t even have with each other.

Jayden: You’re right. I don’t understand the bond. And I don’t care to understand it either. I’m dealing with that bullshit with my career. With an idiot that can’t think for himself all because of his sister. But this is real life. That kid needed someone to give him a dose of reality. He can do something for himself and it will be okay.

Translator: I still think you are missing the point and I don’t really think you had the right to infringe on that child’s relationship with his deceased sister.

Jayden: Believe what you want, but when that kid ends up overcoming all of this. Goes on to be a success story. I’ll know the decision I made was the right one.

Back out those doors the two of them went being led by that nurse. Jayden wasn’t one to back down from anything. It did not matter the situation. If he felt like he was right. If he feels like he was justified. He was going to make it clear that he wasn’t going to budge. And now more than ever he realized that he had people that actually looked up to him. So therefore he was going to be the hero that they needed. Even if some people felt like he was wrong.

Every bit of Jayden had felt busy since he had touched down. Media appearances. Meet and Greets. Signings. Press conferences. It all took up his time and when he did find a moment or two to spare. He found himself dedicating his craft in the gym like he always had. But today? Or rather tonight. Jayden was making time for himself. A nice bar just right down the street from the hotel. Didn’t look like it was a rowdy bunch. Nothing more than the old locals. That was do-able. Sitting there in the corner of the bar to himself. As the bartender approached him.

Bartender: Americana?

Jayden: Yes.

Bartender: You’re in luck. I know most english. What can I do for you?

Jayden: A double blackberry Mojito.

Bartender: Fancy fella huh? I’ll be right back.

There was a bit of a nod from Jayden as he acknowledged the bartender just before he walked away. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone. All while hearing the bell to the bar’s entrant door ring directly behind him. Not paying much attention to the person that blew right by him and took their seat at the bar just a couple seats away. That was all until Jayden heard their voice. Couldn’t have been more noticeable.

??: Jack and coke. Keep them coming!

Placing his phone down on the bar. Jayden looked up in the direction of the voice. Sure enough sitting there at the bar with his back turned to Jayden was none other than his father. Jayden’s face just crippled with confusion.

Jayden: Dad?

His calling out forced the legendary wrestler to turn around. His own confused and shocked expression.

Michael: Jayden? What the hell are you doing here?

Jayden: I’m wrestling on Sunday. You already knew that... But the better question is what the hell are you doing in Paris at all?

Michael: Oh. Blair wanted to go on a shopping spree. But apparently it’s a surprise for me, so I came to get a drink or two while she finishes up.

Jayden: So you come to Paris?!

Michael: She’s a woman of taste and class. We’ve got the jet. We might as well use it.

Jayden: But Paris? For a shopping spree?!

Michael: Give it time, kid. You’re a newly wed. Won’t be long before Saraia is asking for things like this.

Jayden: The fuck she will.

Michael: Used to say the same thing at your age.

By then the bartender was sliding his father his drink. Before walking down to Jayden to hand over his. Michael snatched his glass off the bar and took a couple of steps towards Jayden to sit a little closer. Jayden was mid drink when he could hear the judgemental tone of his father.

Michael: You really think you should be consuming anything with alcohol in it this close to a big match, kid?

That glare in Jayden’s natural expression began to take shape a little more. Taking the glass away from his lips.

Jayden: That’s rich coming from a guy who was involved in the hayday of somas and steroids. Don’t really think you should be passing any kind of judgement onto me.

Michael: It’s not coming from a place of judgement. It’s coming from a place of concern for your career and everything you got riding on it.

Jayden: And we had this talk not that long ago when you tried to tell me I was not coming back after that bullshit with Alexander Raven. I’m a grown ass man. My career and the decisions I make around it are mine and mine only. I don’t need or want your input on any of it.

Michael: Fair enough, kid. You’re right. You are a grown man. Just not sure you’re making grown man decisions. If you feel the need to remind me what a grown man you are.

Sarcasm coming from the older Harris. Something that the both of them were very fluent in. All it did was make Jayden glare a little harder as his father took a sip from his drink.

Michael: But there is just one thing that I do want to say.

Jayden: Of course there is. Of-fucking-course there is.

Michael: Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kid.

Jayden: Spit it out. I really don’t want to spend the one moment I have to myself listening to you all night. It was bad enough listening to you every day for twenty years.

Michael: And one day when I’m not here anymore. You’re going to long for my words of wisdom and wish I was around to give it. But I don’t hold that against you son.

Taking another sip from his glass. He finally turned back to face Jayden looking his oldest son in the eyes. His usual harden expression was anything but that. Very soft and unlike him. That was enough to grab Jayden’s attention more.

Michael: All I want to say is. I see more and more of me in you. Each time you step through that curtain. Each promo you cut. Each move you hit in the ring. I’m proud of that, but what I am not proud of is how personal you take things. The same way I did. You obsess about it. You let it eat away at you. You let it fuel you, make you angry, and become a source of anger. That I am not proud to see. Not even in the slightest.

Jayden wanted to say something right then and there. It was his nature to just be stubborn and argumentative but something in him stopped him this time.

Michael: I wish I had someone tell me to not be that way. Because despite how well my career turned out. It could have been even better if I hadn’t made things personal with so many people. From friends to opponents to companies I worked for. It got me a reputation and now that I’m older. I wish I could take a lot of that back. But you are still young. You’re still learning. You can learn to stop that shit now.

Jayden: And what if I don’t want to? What if I like making it personal? What if I like crossing the line? What if I like the ‘heat’ that comes with it all?

Michael: Then twenty years later. You’ll be regretting most of it like I am. But I can’t make you do what you don’t want to do. Just promise me. You’ll think about it?

For a second the silence consumed both men. Jayden just looked at his father. Trying to get a read on the situation. But he finally nodded.

Jayden: I cannot make promises. Especially not with Vincent in my horizons. But I’ll consider it once this is all said and done.

Michael: All I can ask for.

A firm nod came from the older Harris. He picked up his glass and held it in his son’s direction. Jayden picked up his own and clicked it against his father’s. Both of them then indulged in their drink. Nothing left to be said. Michael had to let go and let his son be a man, but Jayden also had to understand he was always going to be his son. The circle of life.

In less than twenty four hours. Sin City Wrestling would find themselves invading Paris, Franche for Into The Void. It was all anyone was talking about and rightfully so. History was set to be made in a lot of ways. The cameras were rolling in to reveal the sun was just starting to set right there at the Seine River. Almost right away footsteps could be heard. Cameras panning out to reveal the Brat walking along the edge of the river. Taking in the sights. His voice being heard right away.

“ You know at just twenty three years old. I have already lost track of the amount of times I have been called a spitting image of my father. ”

His sneakers just kicked up the little bit of dirt right there along the edge of the river.

“ It hasn’t been just from people in the business. It hasn’t been just from people specifically in SCW. It has been from my close personal friends. It’s come from my family a lot more than others. Especially my mom. And for a long time it used to bother me. It used to get under my skin. Not because I felt like being compared to my father was an insult, but because I never had a desire to be Michael Harris Jr. No desire to be Michael Harris 2.0. Instead I wanted to be my own man. I wanted to be the first Jayden. That’s what I was after. ”

Jayden placed his hands inside the pockets of his basketball shorts. Finding himself coming to a stop on his journey. Looking out at the water in the river. The last bit of the sun’s reflection bouncing off of it. Creating quite the image.

“ But more and more in the last couple of weeks. I’ve began to understand why I got compared to my father so much. He wasn’t a man that let things go. He wasn’t a man that turned the other cheek when someone disrespected him. He wasn’t someone that walked away when someone insulted him. He wasn’t someone to give someone a free pass when they put their hands on him. My father made it personal with just about every person he ever shared the ring with. All qualities I see in myself.

I didn’t let the shit with J2H go. To the point it might have done more damage to my career long term than I even realize right now, but it didn’t matter. He disrespected me. He couldn’t go unpunished for that. I have not at any point in time forgiven Alexander Raven for the almost six months of my career that he cost me. There will come a time and a place where that sorry sack of shit gets what's coming to him. And then there is you, Vincent. You have been the bane of my existence for a good little while now. Ever since you cost me the one thing I wanted most. ”

There was that slight sound of annoyance in his voice.

“ Taking the chance to compete for the World Championship away from me was the worst thing you could have done, Vincent. The worst thing you could have done. And the shitty part about it all for you is you don’t even have a good legitimate reason for why you did it. I get it Vincent. You think you are some knight and shining armor to your sister. I get that you think you’re defending her honor over some bullshit I said. I get that you think this is going to be your way into heaven one day for showing loyalty to family. But like I said before. This is stupid.

I could have respected you more for what you did if you felt jaded about not being in the chamber. I could have understood more if you were pissed that you weren’t even given a chance to earn a shot at the chamber. I would have even gave you props if you said you wanted the World Championship more than I did. All of that would have been more legitimate than your sister getting her feelings hurt. Well, newsflash man. She’s a cunt that deserved whatever I said about her. Much like you are a big baby back bitch that deserves what’s coming to you. ”

He remained rocking back and forth on the heels of his sneakers. There was so much to say, but deep down. Words didn’t mean shit. He knew that. Vincent knew that. That’s why he preferred to throw hands, but there was still some time before that could happen.

“ And trust me. That’s not the only thing that I have latched onto. I’m not nearly as stupid as you have liked to imply that I am. Not even close. I’ve listened to your little warnings. About how I should have just taken what you did to me as a hint. Should have taken it on the chin like a man. Apologized and moved on from it. You talk about how big my ego is and how my ego is blinding me from making the right choices. Talking about how my ego has walked me right into this execution that you’re aiming to carry out against me.

All of that stuff is very amusing to me. For one, you carry yourself to be much-much bigger than you actually are. You talk like you’ve got years of experience under your name. You walk around here like you’ve dominated SCW inside and out. But the reality of it all is you’re nothing more than a rookie. A rookie out here making rookie mistakes. To which I can say that because I was once you. I was the rookie with a big mouth and acted like I ran the show. I’m still like that and some would even consider me a rookie still. Difference between us is that I'm far more talented.

I showed up on the scene here in Sin City Wrestling. I went after one of the biggest and baddest dogs in the yard. People might have their opinions about that, but the point is I did it. I held my own against that dog several times. I proved to not be the nepobaby that so many have tried to paint me as. On the other hand you show up here and you prove to be a nepobaby. Prove that you were signed because of your last time. You think you can just coast on by because of it. Can’t deny it when everything says that with just your first match in SCW. ”

Again, the man could just be seen shaking his head from side to side. Vincent did not impress Jayden. Not in the slightest and he had no problem letting that be known.

“ Nothing screams nepo baby more than your first match being for a championship contenders match. Nothing says Christian Underwood favors certain talent more than just handing out freebies like that. You got an easy win, and then was quickly smacked back down to reality when the Internet Champion. Proved to you without a shadow of a doubt that you weren’t on the level you thought you were. You get smacked down with ease. You get your ego crushed in a matter of minutes. You fail to deliver on a promise that you would become a champion in just your second match here. Yet, you’re expecting me to still feel threatened by you? You’re still expecting me to check my ego? You are expecting me to feel like I can’t beat you, just because you roughed me up real good one time? Man. Get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit! ”

Jayden simply just scoffed at the entire idea of it all.

“ Of course. You yourself are too damn dense to understand what I am saying. To even take into consideration that you don’t have what it takes to take me down. Which is why you are going on and on with all this talk about being this dark shadow that covers me. It’s why you keep talking about how this isn’t just a match. How this isn’t about wins or losses. And how this is meant to be the execution of me. Putting a permanent end to my existence around here. You believe all of your own hype. It’s got your chest all puffed out. You think you’re this second coming of Jesus Christ that has a hand in people’s lives. Cool story, bro.

But again. I am someone that lives in reality and I am someone that only deals with realistic situations. Everything you’re saying isn’t realistic. First and foremost. You’re not casting any dark shadow over me. If anything you’re someone that’s living in my shadow. Trying to find a way out of it. You see, because no matter if it's a good talk or a bad talk. People talk about me. They talk about what I am doing. I am a subject of conversation. Whereas you are only being talked about right now because of your association with me and this match. If it wasn’t for that, you wouldn’t be a person of subject.

No one would be talking about you. Hell, no one would really even care about you outside of your stupid sister. That’s just a fact. But I will say you are right. This isn't a match and while I kind of agree that it isn’t about wins and losses. You are however flatout wrong about this being a public execution of me. Instead Vincent. It’s a fight. A fight between two men. A fight between two men that in their own right are a little crazy. When a match becomes a fight. There’s nothing those individuals won’t do to hurt the other. I am aware of that. I embrace that. I look forward to that. More than most would. You might say you do. That is until I punch you right in the mouth. ”

His smirk was starting to take form on his expression. The more and more he thought about the things he was going to be able to do to the man once they got in the ring with each other. It was just a situation where Into The Void couldn’t come soon enough.

“ But as much as you want this to be my execution and my end of existence here. Like I said that’s not going to be the case. You don’t have that dog in you to make any of that happen. Not to mention far better men than you have tried. Only for them to fail. I’m one relistent bastard. And I admit that I am my own worst enemy when it comes to making choices that are actually good for me. I just can’t give up. I cannot stay down. It goes back to the start of this conversation. It’s not in my DNA to roll over and die. My old man didn’t. I’m not going to either. This is however for you... career suicide. ”

Finally, Jayden took his eyes off the water. Bringing them right to the cameras. The look in his eyes gave off the impression he was truly addressing Vincent.

“ It’s career suicide because the moment I defeat you. No one is ever going to look at you the same ever again. The moment that I prove to all of SCW that you were nothing but hot air all along. Not a single person is ever going to want to hear anything you have to say ever again. The very second that I prove that you’re not this bad ass that you think you are. No one is ever going to walk on egg-shells around you ever again. Instead when I walk away without a scratch on me, my head raised high, and a victory to my name. Everyone around here will just look at you as just another average joe.

Another Logan Hunter. Another Bill Barnhart. Hell, another Justin Smith. No one is going to have reason to fear you, pay attention to you, or believe that you can get anything done that you promised. You tried with me and you failed. So when you think about it Vincent. In reality, maybe just maybe. The biggest mistake you ever made was defending your sister’s honor. Maybe just maybe making me a target was by far the most foolish thing you could have ever done. Maybe just maybe you should do the right thing and save yourself from embarrassment. Save yourself from this career suicide. There’s still time. All you have to do is not show up. ”

Another simple shrug left the shoulders of the man they called the Brat.

“ The choice is yours, Vincent. I can’t make it for you. Your sister can’t make it for you. This company can’t make it for you. It’s all up to you and what you decide to do in the end. As for me though? You don’t need to worry. I’ll be prepared either way. I will be the Moment Maker. I’ve always been. I’ll be the man that lives up to his own hype. And I’ll be the man that puts your fucking career six feet under if that’s what has to be done! ”

Everything about the look in Jayden’s eyes said he believed everything that he said. There was no getting through to him and it would be a hill he died on. Only time would tell whether or not the man turned out to be right. That being said Jayden turned his back on the cameras starting to walk back down the edge of that river in which he came. The cameras slowly fade back out. Leaving the entire SCW Universe wondering what would actually happen when two men considered to be the future clashed.

Supercard Archives / Re: KAT v CRYSTAL v ALEXANDRA v JULIANNA v SELEANA v CASSIE - QUEEN FOR A DAY

« Last post by Crystal Zdunich on May 23, 2025, 06:08:03 PM »

All roads have brought me here to Paris France. I have so many different thoughts that are racing and pacing through my mind. Every single week it’s like I get caught up in hearing the same old thing. It’s like people don’t even believe in me but to be honest. I don’t even believe in myself. Sometimes I even question why I even bother to do this anymore. What is it that I am really trying to achieve?! I could retire and my legacy would definitely be intact.

It would be easy for me to leave on a high note granted my career hasn’t really been the best as of lately. I have been dropping match after match and people are beginning to question if I even care about doing this anymore. It’s apparent that something needs to change. Something has to change.

Years ago I was one of the most feared women in all of the company. I would take down anybody who came in my way. I would physically break down the rest of the competition and nobody was even close to me in skill level. I was considered one of the best of the best and it was a long hard fought road to get to a point where I was on top of the world as a World Champion, as a former Internet Champion and as a multiple time Roulette Champion.

I even got inducted into the Hall of Fame but those days seem to be but a distant memory. It’s hard to even reach that status anymore and I am going to be very honest. I don’t even know what I am doing. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I am far beyond the days of old when the red carpet would be rolled down to the ring and I came out knowing that I was the superstar that everybody had paid to see. However since that day I am a broken shell. I am nowhere close to that or where I wish to be and it is hard to get motivated when everybody thinks you are the joke of the company.

I know there is a huge Queen for a Day match ahead of me. At one point in my career I was in this position before. I had done everything in my power to emerge as being the Queen for I really didn’t do anything with it. I think the biggest thing I have ever done with that right was give my wife a chance to win the Roulette Championship which she capitalized on.

However as far as myself it really didn’t go anywhere.

So now the question comes do I even have what it takes to move my career in the right direction?! Where do I go from here?! What do I do?! There’s so many questions left to be answered but not one of them is something I can really do unless I go out there and prove myself.

Time to showcase what I can really do.

Supercard Archives / Re: KAT v CRYSTAL v ALEXANDRA v JULIANNA v SELEANA v CASSIE - QUEEN FOR A DAY

« Last post by Seleana Zdunich on May 23, 2025, 03:58:12 PM »

Off-Camera

Room 310
Hilton Paris Opera Hotel
Paris, France
Friday, May 23, 2025
1:36 PM

Seleana Zdunich sighs heavily, looking down at her phone. Rewatching the moment with Cassie Wolfe and Mercedes Vargas had not helped anything. The moment on the following Climax Control had not helped things at all.

In fact, it had probably made them much, much worse.

Now they would both be a part of the Queen For A Day match along with Kat Jones, Alexandra Calaway, Julianna DiMaria and Seleana's wife…

Crystal.

The fact that Crystal had been hanging out a lot with the other person involved in the Cassie moment, Mercedes Vargas, calling the woman her best friend just seemed to make it even worse, at least to Seleana. She bows her head sadly again just in time for her other wife, Alexandra "Diamond" Caldwell, to walk into the room and siut next to her.

ADC: Sel?

Seleana nods, looking up.

SZ: Ja?

ADC: What's wrong?

Seleana sits back, kicking herself for allowing her worry to show so much. She starts to answer, stops herself and then considers her words. Diamond just shakes her head at seeing the hesitation.

ADC: Seriously, what's wrong, Sel?

She nods, indicating the back of the room where the kids have been hanging a lot lately.

ADC: Rori and E have noticed too, Babe, what's wrong?

Seleana shakes her head sadly, visibly ashamed.

SZ: I try not to let bleed on them.

She inhales sharply, trying to convince herself it's ok to tell Alex.

SZ: A few weeks ago, we were in Sweden, ja?

Diamond nods.

SZ: I was a special referee. I start the show and get crowd revved up. The match was between Cassie Wolfe and Mercedes Vargas. Cassie I have never had a problem with. Mercedes I have never not had a problem with. She is one of many that has never liked me, never respected me. During the match, Mercedes kept trying to bait me, to get me to do something stupid.

She shakes her head in both shame and despair.

SZ: She finally find right button. She press, i fire at her. I miss. Hit Cassie.

Diamond nods, understanding completely.

ADC: Like with me and Christina in WRR?

Seleana nods, on the verge of tears.

SZ: Cassie did not deserve that at all. There are many in the company that would have deserved. Kat Jones, Julianna DiMaria, Mercedes, Kayla Richards…

She pauses to allow herself a nod of acknowledgement.

SZ: There is an argument that Christina has deserved before as well.

Seleana shakes her head.

SZ: Might be one that she deserves it now for spending so much time with Mercedes lately.

Diamond frowns.

ADC: Mercedes who never liked or respected you? That Mercedes?

Seleana nods and Diamond just shakes her in disbelief.

ADC: Christina really doesn't bother to read the room does she?

Seleana shrugs.

SZ: So now we fight again with Kat Jones, Alexandra Calaway, Julianna DiMaria and Cassie Wolfe in there with us.

She looks back down to the floor.

SZ: Kat, Julianna have never liked me. Alexandra is a tough, em, cookie? You remember her from NFW, ja?

Diamond nods as if the answer is she remembers this woman all too well.

ADC: Yeah.

SZ: Cassie is not happy with me at all now and Christina is…

She trails off as if she was about to say a bad word.

SZ: Again.

Diamond shakes her head and then embraces her wife.

ADC: Is this gonna start the #FreeSeleana stuff again?

Seleana shrugs.

SZ: I do not know.

She shakes her head.

SZ: I do not want to be "free." I want my wife to start acting like my wife.

She turns to better face Diamond.

SZ: Is too much to ask?

Diamond kisses her lovingly on the mouth.

ADC: No, it's not.

Seleana nods gratefully and Diamond kisses her again.

ADC: I love you, Sel.

SZ: I love you too.

Supercard Archives / Re: ARTIE v CONNOR v KRIS v BULLDOG v JUSTIN v GUY - KING FOR A DAY

« Last post by JustinSmith on May 23, 2025, 01:49:28 PM »

The scene opens up with Justin Smith standing in outside Musée de L’Orangerie (Orangery Museum) in Paris, France to enjoy the museum. Before he buys his ticket, he decides to call his friend and former trainer Casey Williams

Justin-Hey Casey, looks like I am in the King for a Day Ladder Match against Artie, Connor Murphy, Kris Ryan, “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart and Guy with a Cape. What do you think my chances are?

Casey-I think you have as much a chance in that style match as anyone else, as it’s a matter of who can climb the ladder to retrieve the briefcase!

Justin-I am aware, I’m not worried though, I am going to do whatever it takes to win.

Casey-I know, and I should expect you to be confident in yourself despite your record.

Justin-Yeah, and I will do my best to climb the ladder and get the briefcase.

Casey-I’ll send Dying Breed and Hitamashii to train with you.

Justin nods and waves off the cameraman, asking him to leave so Justin can continue his conversation as the scene fades to black.

The next day, Justin is seen at his hotel room, getting ready to go to the gym to meet up with Dying Breed and Hitamashii. He arrives at the gym to see Dying Breed members Andrew Garcia and Ivan Darrell already there sparring with each other and Hitamashii.

Andrew-You’re late!

Justin-Sorry, got lost and stuck in traffic.

Ivan-Let’s work on some different techniques.

Justin-Let’s do this!!![/b]

Andrew-At least your skill set can truly shine in a ladder match!

Justin-How so?

Ivan-You are known for your power and speed, right?

Justin-Yes.

Andrew-Let us see how we can use that to your advantage in this match, given majority of the guys are more agile than you. Let’s see you do a spear.

Both Justin and Ivan get into position and Justin attempts the spear.

Andrew-That’s good. Now I want to see you try it again.

Justin and Ivan get into position and Justin hits the spear with more ease than the first time.

Andrew-Good job!

Dying Breed and Hitamashii continue working with Justin as the scene fades to black.

Later that night, Justin is seen at Bouillon Chartier for dinner, but turns to the camera with an evil look in his eyes to call out his opponents in Artie, Connor Murphy, Kris Ryan, “Bulldog” Bill Barnhart and Guy with a Cape.

Justin-Gentlemen, I I know you guys think very little of me and my chances in winning this match due to my past in the company, but I am going to prove you all wrong when I climb up that ladder and secure the briefcase, and there is nothing nobody can do to stop me. I will prove that I truly belong here in SCW, despite all the negativity about how I am a terrible wrestler and how I should not even be considered a threat. That is the kind of stuff I heard my whole life, so hearing it again here is no surprise. It just shows me how pathetic you are all, because you are all nothing more than bullies and when I stand up on that ladder, briefcase in hand, I will have had the last laugh, because I have shown my resiliency and toughness through thick and thin and nothing that anybody can say will keep me from achieving my dreams of becoming SCW World Champion.

The scene fades to black with Justin hums his theme song “Madness” after he orders the Roast sea bass with sauce vierge and enjoys the culture of Paris.

Supercard Archives / Re: FRANKIE HOLLIDAY v MIKAH v LAURA PHOENIX - 2025 BFTP FINALS

« Last post by Laura Phoenix on May 23, 2025, 12:48:13 PM »

Together Again. Gee, it's good to be together again.
Paris, France

The flat just outside central Paris had the kind of charm you’d expect from an old postcard—arched windows, wrought iron balconies, and the golden wash of late afternoon light settling over the hardwood floors. But inside, the Madison-O’Connell clan were anything but peaceful.

Laura stood in the corner near the wide window, arms crossed, watching the traffic on the street below. She didn’t say much—she didn’t need to. The silence around her was just a pause in her storm.

Behind her, chaos reigned.

Aaron darted around the living room with his toy airplane, zooming it through the air with sound effects that echoed off the walls. “Watch out! Crash landing!”

“Airrrplane!” Máire squealed, chasing after him in tiny, wobbling steps. She wore one of Nick’s oversized Yankees hats, which kept slipping down over her eyes.

“Careful with her!” Bella called, jogging behind with a sippy cup in one hand and a half-tied ponytail swaying as she moved.

“She likes it!” Aaron yelled back. “She’s chasing me!”

“Because she thinks you're a snack, not a pilot,” Malachi muttered from the kitchen, cutting up apple slices with one eye on the mayhem.

From the couch, Aileen O’Connell watched it all with a smirk, nursing a mug of tea and giving Laura a once-over. “You gonna let the chaos win, or are you still planning to raise hell in that ring next week?”

Laura’s lips curled into a dry smile. “Who says I can’t do both?”

Nick came up beside her, handing her a fresh cup of coffee. “You’re not even trying to relax, are you?”

She took it without looking at him, eyes still fixed on the Paris skyline. “I relax when the job’s done.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

There was a pause, filled only by the shriek of Máire attempting to scale the couch like Everest, followed by Mal plucking her off mid-climb.

Laura turned away from the window and walked slowly toward the center of the room. She crouched down to Aaron’s level just as he buzzed by again.

“You ready to watch me win again, champ?”

He nodded fiercely, pushing imaginary buttons on his plane. “You’re gonna beat ‘em all. Boom! Like that!”

“Boom,” she echoed with a grin, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Máire waddled over next, hands out. “Up! Up!”

Laura scooped her up, the little girl giggling as Laura gave her a spin and rested her on her hip. “Even my biggest fan believes in me.”

“Gammy strong!” Máire declared, her voice slightly garbled but proud.

Laura chuckled. “That’s my pretty girl.”

She looked to Bella, who stood a little apart now, watching her mother with a softness in her eyes. It wasn’t reverence exactly—it was respect. Earned. Reinforced. The kind you couldn’t fake.

Laura handed Máire back to Bella and turned toward the hallway, motioning to Nick.

“I’m gonna get some air. And maybe… talk a little shop.”

“What If You Could?”
Paris, Late Evening

The apartment was finally quiet.

Aaron had crashed, tangled in a blanket on the pullout. Máire was tucked into her travel crib, one fist curled under her cheek. Even Nick had turned in, a book still open on his chest.

And Laura? She was alone on the balcony, nursing the last of a glass of wine, a hoodie zipped over her tank top, her hair messily tied back. Paris sparkled in front of her like a dream—but it felt a million miles away.

She pulled her phone out and opened her notes app. Not to write. Just to look.

Names. Matches. Bullet points on Mikah. On Frankie Holliday. Promos watched. Interviews analyzed. She’d always done her homework—obsessively, quietly, like a scholar preparing for war.

But tonight… she didn’t feel like a student. She felt like a relic.

“Maybe they don’t want me to win,” she murmured aloud. “Maybe they just want the drama of watching me fall.”

She hated how the thought lingered.

Because the truth was… she used to think that way too. Back when she was the one clawing for a shot, back when her name wasn’t followed by "legend" or "return." Back when she was dangerous for being new.

She set the phone down and leaned forward over the balcony, breathing in the cold bite of the Paris night.

“I’m not here to show I still can,” she whispered. “I’m here because I should. Because I am.”

And because when you’ve been through the hells she’s survived, it’s not enough to still be standing.

You need to burn.

The city was quiet now, or at least as quiet as Paris could be. A few muted horns in the distance, the soft hum of life far below. The lights of the Eiffel Tower blinked in rhythm like a beating heart.

Inside the apartment, the rest of the Madison-O’Connell clan had long since gone to bed. Even the creaks of the old floorboards had settled.

Laura stood in the kitchenette, arms braced on the counter, staring at the untouched tea in front of her. She hadn’t meant to be up this long, but her body ached in a way that sleep couldn’t mend.

She didn’t hear Nick come in—just felt his presence before his hand gently touched the small of her back.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked softly.

She didn’t look at him. “Didn’t try.”

A beat passed before she turned to face him. His eyes, warm and steady as always, searched her face.

“You do know that after all these years that I can tell that you’re hurting. Even when you are good at hiding it from everyone else,” he said, not as an accusation, just fact.

She gave a breath of a laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. “Physically? Always. Emotionally?” She paused. “Only when I think too hard.”

Nick stepped around her and gently took her hand, leading her toward the couch. She let him. They sat together in the quiet for a long moment, his hand tracing idle patterns over hers.

And then she asked, barely above a whisper, “Do you ever miss it?”

Nick’s expression didn’t change much—but Laura saw the flicker behind his eyes. Pain. Not from his body. From memory.

“Every day,” he said.

Laura nodded slowly. “Do you ever think… What if you could? What if they found some miracle thing and said you could take one more match?”

Nick smiled sadly, then reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think about it all the time. But then I look at Aaron. I look at you. And I remember what the doctors said. One bump. One wrong landing… and I might never walk again. Might not even hold my son again or our granddaughter. Or even you. ”

Her throat tightened. She reached up, covering his hand with hers, squeezing it hard. “I hate that. I hate that that choice was taken from you. And I hate how selfish I am for wishing I could still see you in there.”

Nick pulled her in, their foreheads resting together.

“You’re not selfish,” he whispered. “The one thing I love about you the most is that you’re a fighter. You always have been. But Laura…” He tilted her face to meet his eyes. “You don’t need me to fight beside you to have me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her voice cracked when she spoke. “I just… I don’t want to do this without you. Not the matches. Life.”

“You won’t. You’re not.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” she admitted, tears slipping from her eyes now. “If I lost you… and had to raise Aaron alone…”

He kissed her—soft and sure.

“You’d do it,” he said. “Because you’re Laura fucking Madison. You’d mourn, and you’d break. And then you’d rise like you always do. Because you don’t know how to do anything else.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

She buried her face in his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms tight around her.

“You’re not going to lose me, Laur. I’m being careful. I have to be. Because I want to be with you. With our kids. For as long as this damn body lets me.” He tilted her chin again. “But don’t think for one second that my staying out of the ring means I’m less. You carry the weight for us both now. And you’re doing it beautifully.”

She nodded slowly, trying to breathe through the tangle of love and fear in her chest.

“I need you,” she said.

“I’m right here,” he replied.

And in that moment, for just a while, the pain in her shoulders felt lighter. Because the man beside her wasn’t the warrior she once fought beside.

He was the reason she still fought at all.

Conversations in the Dark

The space is mostly empty, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead the only real noise aside from the occasional echo of someone else far off, slamming a mat or exhaling hard between sets. But in the corner of the ring under a lone spotlight, Laura Madison sat on the second turnbuckle — hands taped, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, sweat still clinging to her neck after her last sparring session.

There was a camera set up in front of her. Nothing flashy. Just real.

And that’s how Laura wanted it.

No glitz. No bullshit.

Just her.

She stared into the lens, letting the silence stretch long enough to become sharp.

Then she exhaled, low and deliberate.

“Let’s talk, shall we?”

Her voice was steady, rich with that low burn of someone who’d heard enough.

“Frankie Holliday. Mikah. You both had quite a bit to say, didn’t you? Felt real brave getting cute with your words when I wasn’t there to answer. But I’m here now. And sweetheart, I’ve got time.”

She slid off the turnbuckle, stepping into the center of the ring like it was a throne. Like it had always belonged to her.

“Let’s start with you, Frankie. You said people are acting like it’s ‘the second coming’ because I’m back. No, honey. They're acting like that because they remember. They remember who built the roads you're walking on. Who was headlining before your voice ever cracked. Who was throwing hands in main events while you were still learning how to lace your damn boots.”

“You think this is a new era? Good for you. You should be proud of where you’re standing. But let me make something perfectly clear…”

Laura leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing with razor-sharp focus.

“This ‘new era’ still runs through me.”

“You’re not the first flavor-of-the-month rookie who stumbled into the spotlight, mouth moving faster than their brain. And you won’t be the last. But I’ve seen your kind come and go. Fast climbs. Faster falls. You earned your shot, Frankie — I won’t take that away from you. But the second you opened your mouth about me like I was yesterday’s headline? You signed your own pain order.”

“Experience doesn’t matter? Baby girl, experience is the reason I know how to take people like you apart without breaking a sweat. Experience is why I know you’ll rush in wide open looking for that one viral moment — and I’ll be waiting with a receipt in the form of a knee to your jaw.”

She took a breath. Calm. Controlled. Lethal.

“Now then... Mikah.”

Laura actually chuckled, low and bitter.

“You said I belong in a museum.”

Her expression turned cold, her voice a hair softer — deadlier.

“Aren’t you one to fucking talk? Have you ever stepped foot in a museum, Mikah? You know what they hold? Masterpieces. Artifacts of power and legacy and permanence. That’s me. What are you? Some Instagram filters and a history of ‘almosts’.”

“Yes, you’re a legend in SCW. That’s the funny part. I didn’t forget. But somewhere along the way, you did. Because instead of showing me the respect I earned, you treated me like I was something to roll your eyes at. Like I’m some washed-up story trying to rewrite history.”

She stepped forward again, the light catching the sharp line of her jaw.

“I’m not here because I can’t let go. I’m here because I chose to remind this company what it looks like when someone walks into a ring without needing a gimmick or a catchphrase or a pity party to be great.”

“You wanna question if I still belong? You should be asking yourself how you’re going to survive standing across from someone with nothing to prove and everything to burn. Because unlike you two... I don’t need this win. Not one single solitary soul expected me to make it even THIS far. But I want it. And that makes me so much more dangerous.”

Laura stopped pacing, planting herself dead center again. Her arms crossed now, tone final.

“I’m not here to take sass. I’m not here to trade barbs and hashtags. I’m here to fight. To dominate. And to win. Not because I have to prove I’m still relevant — but because it’s fun as hell to remind people I’m still better than most of this locker room with one knee tied behind my back.”

“So come Into the Void ready. Bring your best. Talk your shit. Try to make your mark. But remember this…”

“I am not just another comeback story. I am not some nostalgia act. I am Laura. Fucking. Phoenix.”

She leaned into the camera one last time, her voice dropping to a near-whisper:

“And I’m about to give you both a lesson you’ll never forget.”

The camera held on her eyes — burning bright, burning steady.

It’s Okay To Call It Out
Another Quiet Night

Inside, the room was dim. Just the amber glow of a standing lamp in the corner and the city’s golden shimmer reflecting off Bella’s face as she sat curled on the oversized couch, a throw blanket tossed across her legs. Her phone was in her lap, voice recorder app open, unsaved takes stacked beneath a blank one waiting to be filled.

Her thumb hovered over the record button, but she didn’t press it.

A quiet shuffle came from the hallway. Bella glanced up to see Laura, dressed in lounge pants and an old SCW t-shirt, pad barefoot into the room with two steaming mugs in her hands.

“What is it about this damn week? Apparently you couldn’t sleep either?” Laura asked, handing her one of the mugs.

Bella took it gratefully. “Nah. Mind won’t shut up.”

Laura sat down beside her, folding one leg underneath her.

“You’ve been quiet since dinner,” she said gently.

Bella offered a small shrug. “Just thinking.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Thinking? Or spiraling?”

Bella chuckled softly — the kind of tired laugh that hides the weight behind the eyes.

“Little of both,” she admitted. “It’s… it’s my defense. More specifically it’s Mercedes Vargas. I did some thinking today, knowing what I need to say....feeling a tad bit hypocritical with her, especially since she’s got a high ranking vet underneath her. She’s in the Hall of Fame, for God’s sake.”

“I feel like even saying something about it at times feels like I’m shorting you. My own mother who is attempting history herself in winning the Blast from the Past.”

Laura sipped her tea, listening, not rushing the moment.

Bella continued, voice quieter now. “And I know you have an honest to goodness chance of winning the damn thing. But… I can’t lie — part of me feels guilty. Like I’m about to slap the crown off someone’s head who helped build the damn throne.”

Laura nodded slowly, eyes thoughtful. She’d been there — had been the one whose crown they came for.

“You’re allowed to feel that,” she said. “Let me explain something to you. Respect isn’t weakness, Bella. It just means you see the whole picture. It means you care.”

Bella turned toward her, frowning. “Then why does it feel like I’m the villain the second I open my mouth?”

Laura leaned forward slightly.

“Because you grew up watching this business practically under a microscope,” she said. “But that’s the trick of legacy. It makes certain people immortal in your mind — until you’re the one holding the sword.”

Bella’s fingers gripped her mug a little tighter.

“It’s weird, I don’t want to disrespect her,” she said. “But after everything she and I went through, I feel like I just have to prove I belong CONSTANTLY...of course it feels like it’s on a constant basis with her. I want to win and I want to retain. But how do you do that without coming off like every other brash rookie who ever called a vet ‘washed up’?”

Laura tilted her head, then offered a small, knowing smile.

“Well you are far from a brash rookie now. But you speak YOUR truth. The real truth. That’s the difference. You don’t need to tear Mercedes down with lies or cheap shots. Her legacy speaks for itself — so let it. And then speak for yours. This match isn’t about shoving her into the past. It’s about showing that the future is already here. You are already here.”

Bella nodded slowly, the fire beginning to flicker behind her eyes.

“And if she doesn’t see it that way?”

Laura shrugged, casually confident.

“Then you’ll show her.”

She set her mug down and rose to her feet, brushing a kiss to the top of Bella’s head.

“Be proud of your voice. Even if it shakes a little.”

Bella looked up, eyes softer now. “Thanks.”

Laura offered her a wink. “Hey, It’s perfectly fine to remind Mercedes that history doesn’t scare you. You’re writing your own.”

She disappeared down the hall, leaving Bella alone with the quiet again.

One More Time

The lights are dim. There’s a quiet hum from the street below, distant traffic and muffled nightlife. Laura Phoenix sits on the edge of a small table, one leg crossed over the other. Her phone is leaned up against a water glass. She doesn’t bother with a backdrop, or a fancy camera crew.

She's dressed in simple black — a hoodie and jeans. No war paint. No armor.

Her voice? Razor-wire soft.

“You want one more? Fine.”

She glances at the camera. Not with anger.

With certainty.

“But this isn’t a promo. I’m not here to perform for clicks. I’m not here to out-clever you. I’m here because there’s still a part of me — the part that built everything you’re standing on — that wants to make sure that everyone including the both of you understand what’s about to happen.”

She exhales slowly, as if she’s giving the words time to form correctly.

“Frankie Holliday. You’re not a threat. You’re a test balloon. Inflated ego, lightweight, and all air. You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that. But fire without direction? It burns out. Or worse…”

Her eyes narrow slightly.

“It gets put out.”

“You talk like you’ve been disrespected, like the world hasn’t given you your due. But deep down, I think you know you skipped a few steps. That’s why you lash out. That’s why you keep throwing my name around like saying it gives you legitimacy.”

“You want to use me as your measuring stick? Good. Because at Into the Void, I’m going to show you just how far you still have to go.”

Laura shifts, leaning in a little. Her tone drops to an almost maternal cadence — the kind that warns you before the belt comes off the wall.

“And Mikah…”

She smiles, faint. Not fond.

Like a woman watching someone she used to admire lose the plot.

“You used to be something. Truly. You weren’t just a star — you were a standard. But somewhere along the way, you stopped evolving. You got comfortable. And now you’re still here, still talking, still trying to convince yourself you haven’t been passed by.”

“But I’m not your past, Mikah.”

“I’m your present. And I identify as a MASSIVE fucking problem. A very CLEAR and present danger.”

“I get called a relic, a throwback quite a bit. But the truth is, I never needed to rebrand, reinvent, or repackage myself to be dangerous. I stayed dangerous. You just stopped paying attention.”

“That’s the difference between us.”

There’s no yelling. No venom. Just clarity. And maybe that’s what makes it scarier.

“You both think you're about to steal a moment. Make a name off mine. Rewrite my ending to make your beginning shinier.”

She leans closer, resting her forearms on her knees. Her voice becomes whisper-thin.

“But what happens when I don’t let you?”

“What happens when the veteran doesn’t play nice? When the legacy doesn’t fade quietly? When the comeback doesn’t end in loss — but in domination?”

She lets the silence hang — gives the weight of her words space to echo.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Laura slowly rises to her feet and walks to the window. She looks out at Paris, never turning back to the camera.

She looks into the lens like it’s the person she’s about to hurt.

“Paris.”

“Seems poetic, doesn’t it?”

A bitter smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“The city of lights. Of romance. Of legacy.”

She tilts her head slightly, voice calm and level — like a surgeon before the first incision.

“Fitting that it’s where yours ends.”

She pauses, not for effect — but because she chooses every word like it's a loaded round.

“Frankie. Mikah. You came into this thinking this match was about you. That Laura Phoenix was just the obstacle. The name on the flyer. The stepping stone you needed to make people believe the hype.”

She shakes her head slowly.

“But I don’t exist for your validation. I’m not here to give you your moment. I’m here to make sure you don’t get one.”

She sits back, arms folding — not defensive.

Immovable.

“Frankie, you talk like you’ve already made it. Like you're the second coming of someone who’s never even been. You want to spit on my name like I’m holding you back? Sweetheart, the only thing holding you back is your mouth — and the fact that your work ethic doesn’t match your volume.”

“You're not misunderstood. You’re just not there yet.”

Her jaw tightens, but her voice never rises.

“You said you’re not here to be my next chapter. That you’re the main character now.”

“That’s cute.”

She leans forward, steepling her fingers like she’s talking to a child who needs to be set straight.

“Frankie Holliday is a storyline. A side-arc. A spark with no fire behind it. And when I beat you, no one’s going to say damn, look what Laura did to Frankie… they’re going to say, ‘Right. Of course she did.’ Because that’s the difference between presence… and potential.”

And then, Laura smirks — but it’s not warm. It’s cold. It’s earned.

“Mikah.”

“You used to be untouchable.”

The smirk fades.

“Now you’re just uncomfortable. With your place. With the way the world moved on and didn’t slow down for you to catch up.”

“You call me a museum piece? At least they preserve those. You’re just collecting dust.”

“Let’s be honest — you didn’t come back to fight. You came back to be seen. To remind everyone you're still here, still relevant. But the problem is, you’re not dangerous anymore.”

“You’re desperate.”

Laura stands now — not pacing, just rising like a storm that took its time getting here.

“And that’s why you’re both in trouble.”

“Because I’m not desperate. I’m not trying to prove I still belong. I’m not coming back to hold onto a past that’s slipping away.”

“I am the past.”

“I am the present.”

“And in Paris, I am the WHOLE fucking problem that either of you can’t escape.”

She walks slowly to the window. The Eiffel Tower glows in the distance. Laura stands with her back to the camera, but her voice remains clear.

“I don’t need the fans. I don’t need the flowers. I don’t even need the win.”

She turns slightly, just enough for her profile to be visible — sharp. Unforgiving.

“But I’m taking it anyway.”

Cut to black.

Supercard Archives / Re: J2H v ALEXANDER RAVEN v EDDIE LYONS - 2025 BFTP FINALS

« Last post by J2H on May 23, 2025, 09:14:13 AM »

Wednesday 21st May 2025,
Ritz Paris Hotel,
Paris, France.

J2H had been in the country a few days, his wife unable to join him right away because of James Jr's schooling, but he had media commitments to deal with in Paris, as did every other Sin City Wrestling wrestler on the roster. He had no choice but to go along without her. He'd already done interviews all over Paris, three or four a day and tiredness had set in to his bones. He needed some time to just relax but his not so out going self had soon kicked in by the time he reached the hotel lobby. He had hoped by paying for this expensive hotel for himself, the fans would not be present but looking through the big glass doors, he could see a group of people and in his mind, they looked like wrestling fan. He took the smart option in his head and pulled his hoodie over his eyes, are far as he could above his baseball cap and took a seat at a table to the side of the lobby, just out of view from the fans. He had his phone in his hand when he could sense someone approaching him. He had grown a sixth sense being in this business for when he was about to be approached and sighed to himself before looking up. His eyes narrowed before widening, seeing a sight he didn't expect to see in front of him, the face of Ms. Angel Parker, wife to Austin. She pointed to a seat near J2H

Ms. Angel: Is this seat taken?

Ms. Angel was a mother figure to J2H. When he begged Austin Parker to train him better then the shit show that he was, to become the man he is today, Austin was more then reluctant, but Ms. Angel fought on J2H's side, endeared by his will to learn and be better. She'd been around the block long enough in the wrestling business to know that rich kids come and go, walking away from the hard work and sensed there was something different about him. He lived in a small four room building, barely more then a trailer while training for the best part of a year on Austin and Angel's ranch, and she treated him like a son.

J2H: Of course not. I didn't know you was in Paris.

She smiled as she took the seat next to him, looking at him through warm, soft eyes, a look a mother would give a son.

Ms. Angel: Well, Austin told me about this swanky place you got here and I thought darn it, I must see this for myself.

He smiled at her, knowing the three thousand dollar a cost per night he had set himself and Austin up in, while other wrestlers were at much more affordable hotels.

J2H: Well, I thought the old fella needed a bit of a break. Travelling around was never his thing unless it was on horseback. I thought he could do with a little break.

Angel smiled at him once more, she had grown accustomed to J2H's jokes about Austin's age over the years, it was natural and Angel was comfortable hearing him make those jokes, seeing it as a sign of affection rather then insult.

Ms. Angel: So, how are you doing?

It was a loaded question for him, he was tired and although Paris was one of his favourite cities in the world, he had worked hard since the second he landed. He knew out of respect he couldn't lie to the woman who showed him as much concern over the years.

J2H: I'm tired, I'm tired as all hell. I'll be so glad when I get this match out the way, win it and get back home for a solid two weeks off. I feel like it's been non stop for so long, but I know once I get through Sunday, things will be better.

She could sympathize. She watched Austin work up and down the country for huge companies over the years, national companies that did shows all over America. She knew the stress that it could cause on a body and mind.

Ms. Angel: Still, Ms. Melody will be here to help soon, right?

Inside, he always smiled at her politeness when it came to mentioning Melody, he was the only person in to world to call her Ms. Melody.

J2H: They're flying in later and thankfully I got tomorrow off. I've been grinding my butt off for the last few days and people sit there and think I show up when I want and just wrestle.

Ms. Angel: No one sees behind the curtain, darlin'. It's like being on a movie set, no one sees the hours of retakes or how much work goes in to things, just to put something on the screen for a couple of hours.

He never looked at it that way before. He knew he was the hardest working man in SCW by a long way, so many others phone it in every week, but he also knew no one saw that.

J2H: I guess so. I'm just looking forward to getting this match over with. I've worked real hard to get there and I know if I let things slip, then I gotta start over again and I don't know if I want to. I'm missing my boy growing up.

She could understand that all too well, Austin missed a lot of time on the ranch while he was wrestling.

Ms. Angel: I think a lot of people after years in the business, wonder what they do this for, everyone wonders if they will be on top of everything again, when they still have a part to play. No one does this forever and you're still a young man, so you need to ask yourself why do you do it.

It was sage advice, and he knew his motivations for doing it and again, he couldn't be anything other then honest with her.

J2H: Family, I do it for them. My son loves this sport, he's growing up in it, and loves it. He can throw a better dropkick then most of the people on the roster. He even seems to be ok with the fact that I'm away for weekends when he's not at school. I do it because he wants to see me as a champion again.

She took it all in and smiled sweetly at him.

Ms. Angel: Would he look at you any differently if you wasn't a champion?

It was another thought provoking question, not something that had ever crossed his mind.

J2H: I don't know. I don't think so. I think he love the whole thing. He understands it, I think he loves what he sees on television but he's been backstage enough, that he gets how it works sometimes. He's a kid, he lets things blur between what's real and what's not, but the kid loves being backstage. Everyone knows him backstage and likes him. I think if I'm not here, then I take that away from him. To be here, I need to be the champion, I need to be the focus, because that's how he's always known me to be.

Ms. Angel: I think if he loves this as much as you say, I don't think it would matter of the result regardless. There's also nothing stopping you from taking him to shows even if you don't wrestle.

He could tell she was trying to put him at ease and release some of the pressure going in to Sunday's big match, it was something she used to do while managing her husband.

J2H: Here's the kicker though, there's something in me right now that really makes me want to win, get back to the top once more. I've worked too hard for this place not to be at the top again. I sat at home for so long, being a dad and enjoying that. I came back for a little bit and never left. I have given SCW so many big moments over the last couple of years, while sticking to my word and staying away from the top. I did that because I won't be here forever, others need to shine and no one has. All eyes were still on me.

She couldn't help but laugh with her southern tone coming through.

Ms. Angel: As humble as ever.

He matched her smile, unable to ever take offence at anything she said.

J2H: Of course, but I know my worth. I've done matches that others wouldn't have considered, I've worked harder then anyone else in this company for year. I have left my blood all over the world and done everything I could. I can't come this far to fall on my face. If I do that, then it will all be for nothing. It would have been a waste of my time.

Ms. Angel: Is it really a waste of your time if you created memories for so many people? Millions of people will remember what you've already done, millions do.

He knew she had a point, but he knew deep down, he had to win.

J2H: Maybe but I need to win.

She put her hand on his, looking at him.

Ms. Angel: I'll tell you what I told Austin when he was coming up to a big match. Pressure is not always the best thing to drive a person. It can have the adverse effect on things. Pressure makes people over think and make mistakes. It doesn't always make diamonds James, it sometimes crushes things. You're a smart young man, think about that. I need to get doing but dinner with the family?

He stood up to hug her and she put her arms around him, lingering for a few seconds.

J2H: Absolutely.

Ms. Angel smiled before turning and leaving. He knew she was right and for some unknown reason, he felt the pressure lift from his shoulders. He knew that woman had a calming effect on people, but couldn't believe how quickly it had set in. The pressure was off and he was ready to think clear and get what he had set out to do.

Friday 23rd May 2025,
Eiffel Tower,
Paris, France.

The week had flown by in Paris and reunited with his family had put J2H much more at ease, but he knew there was still some work to be done.He knew Sunday was drifting closer and he had to get his head in the game. He had done all he could to relax his mind, put any doubts about anything out of his mind by taking in the sights and sounds of a lively Paris, the tension and excitement in the air for not only upcoming Sin City Wrestling event, but the Champions League final in a little over a week, featuring local football, or soccer juggernauts, Paris Saint Germain. It was an exciting time for the city of two million, one hundred thousand people, looking forward to two big events within a week of each other, and he knew he had to play his part in delivering an unforgettable week for the city of romance.

Night had set in and the lights of Paris broke through the night sky as he stood on top of the Eiffel Tower, the noises of the city seemingly quiet from his high perch overlooking everything and the cameras were there, he knew it was time to talk.

J2H: Yes, it's the top of the Eiffel Tower, yes, it's probably been done by people this week, I don't know, I've not watched shit from anyone else, you know, you slowly being dragged down to everyone else's level and really, I don't give a fuck. This isn't about beautiful fitting settings today, oh no, this is about business. This is going to be a wrestling promo, not a pissing contest about who can come up with the best setting. This is about me getting down to business and talking about what needs to be done, what's going to be done and how I'm gonna do it. If you find it cliche, or something, go fuck yourself, cause this isn't about you, it's about me.

He flipped his middle finger at the camera and smirked.

J2H: Paris is a city of history, this is why we're here, because of the history, it's history with Viking raiders, the battles that made men make the ultimate sacrifices and push themselves to be warriors. There was no fear for a man to charge at another, knowing it's kill or be killed, knowing they can become a hero with one swing of their blood soaked blade, or become a footnote in history. One battle could have made their names forever famous or simply be one of the thousands that died for nothing. See, this is how I feel going in to this Sunday. This is how I feel when I look at what's in front of me and what needs to be done, because I could go in to this match, come out and be remembered forever. I could have my name crashed in to the history books to remind the world for the rest of eternity that I was the first solo Blast From The Past winner and live on forever in the hearts and minds of the world, or I could become the guy forgotten. I could be like those Viking Warriors who died on the losing side, never to have my name remembered again for this. I refuse to work for all these years, go through all these battles, stay away from the throne, only to get so close and be forgotten like others who came before me. I refuse to let this hard work go to waste.

He could feel that he meant every word. It had been a long journey back to the top for him, and he was so close once more.

J2H: Like those warriors, I endured hell. I chose my path to stay away from the gold. I let others have a turn to prove themselves as warriors and that didn't work. I went through epic battles of my own, I did things that prove time and time again that there's a very special heart inside of me that makes me a very special person, because no matter what was thrown at me, I showed the spirit that turned this city in to a battlefield, with a no giving up attitude on either side. I proved my worth and even when I got knocked down, I got back up. The mistake everyone makes with me is the same as in those Viking times. If you knock a warrior down, you better make sure that he doesn't get back up because it will come back to haunt you.

His face stayed in a serious look as he continued to speak.

J2H: No one made sure I stayed down and I found my way back. I might have been shocked, I might have been battered and bloody but no one killed me and I found my way back to get in a position that I too will rule the Kingdoms again. These warriors believe in fate and I don't know if I do, but I do know that it's my time to rule again, as soon as I banish these two invaders from my shore. We know who these invaders are. In times of these battles, you'd think of one as the battle harden warrior who will fight to defend his kingdom, the other, a young arrogant upstart who feels he is guided by the Gods and will be immortal.

He knew no one would know who he was thinking about, when linking these two to people from Viking lore, not only just his opponents, but the rest of the world too.

J2H: No one is immortal and Eddie Lyons certainly isn't.

A small smile seemed to appear on J2H's face.

J2H: Ah, Eddie. I listened to you talk, I watched your body language, I saw your movements, I realized that there was more to you then I thought, but I heard the nerves in your voice. I heard how shaky that voice of yours became when you was talking about me. I could tell that you wasn't convinced by the things that were coming out of your own mouth. The nerves had taken over and that the sense of occasion had hit you and hit you hard. I think you started to see right there and then that what I said was true of you. This match is far bigger then you. This match is way beyond your level and I could hear it every time you opened your mouth. Just like me Eddie, just like Alexander, we're all trying to do the same thing and take that big chance to step up, but I could hear it in your voice that when that camera switched on, when you had to sit and talk about me, you saw the difference between us.

In J2H's mind, the differences between himself and Eddie Lyons was night and day. Eddie had talent, sure but he was no J2H, he hadn't done anything near the levels of what J2H had done in his career.

J2H: I think you saw that my words will ring true. There is less people in this match then the chamber, there is no where to hide from me in this one. I think it hit you that you're in the ring with two former World Heavyweight Champions with a past connection and right there on camera, you could see yourself shitting your pants more and more as the realization set in at what sits there in front of you. You wouldn't be the first, I've had bigger men shit talk me for a longer time and when it came down to it, they couldn't rise to the occasion and step up to the plate. You will not be the last that does that because no one works out how tough it's gonna be till they have to sit there and sell the match to the world and they end up babbling on like a child cause it sets in that you've got a mountain to climb, and you're nowhere near putting on those mountain boots and starting to pull yourself up that rocky ledge.

He was confident in what he said, he saw he and Eddie worlds apart.

J2H: I can tell the difference between real confidence and shit just flying out of someone's mouth. I can sense when the nerves are there Eddie and you could smell the nerves through the screen. Who uses being a talker as an insult in this business? Wake up call for Eddie Lyons, that's half the job that we do Eddie. It was at that point I knew your heart wasn't in it because you're right, I'm a talker bro, but it's not about just being a talker Eddie. Anyone can talk, Justin Smith can talk, he talks shit that sounds like it's out of the mouth of a five year old, but he can talk anyway. Difference is, I can back up my words. When I say I'm gonna do something in this business, I back it up. All those years ago, when I just got to SCW, I was a joke, I was a laughing stock. People threw me in trash cans because they looked down on me. I told myself and I told the world one day, they'll all look up to me and they did. When I first one the World Heavyweight championship, veteran wrestlers, in fact two Hall of Fame wrestlers pissed on me, went crying to Christian, asking why a mid card nobody just became World Champion, and I said I will make them respect me. Beating the piss out of them got them to respect me. I'm a talker but I'm fucking good at backing up my words and showing people I'm better then them. I told you last week I was gonna beat you, I'm backing that up on Sunday.

He looked around the Paris skyline for a few seconds.

J2H: You too, just like me think this is your story. It's not Eddie, it never has been. You pretty much regurgitated what I said, that's a sign of weakness, that's a sign of babbling, that's a sign of I'm in your head. I should be flattered that you're trying to be like me, like the poor version of me or something.

He rolled his shoulders back slightly.

J2H: You mentioned things being below me. Let me let you in on a little secret Eddie. Everything is below me. Cities, wrestlers, people are below me. You are almost certainly below me in every aspect of your life. There's not one thing about you that's actually better then me in any single way. People don't buy tickets to see you. There's not a line out of the door waiting for you to show up, regardless of you putting your heart and soul in to everything wrestling for most of your life. I worked out this business a long time ago. You have to work smarter, not harder. I built myself to the point where I show up and everyone else follows. I don't have to be here every week, I don't need to leave my castle as you put it. I just need to be me. Go kill yourself for this business to get yourself in the fans mind, I don't have to do that. Smarter then you Eddie.

He tapped the side of his head.

J2H: Much smarter then you'll ever be. You can't beat me Eddie and that unbreakable thing you like to call yourself, well, it's about to be broken, mentally and physically because I have no fucking intention of letting my spotlight fade. I have no intention of letting you pass me, I have no intention of falling to someone like you. That don't work for me. You need to see it this way Eddie. This company needs me, Alex Jones is a good champion, better then most, but this company needs me to lead it, it needs someone like me to push it through to keep it going, to keep you in a job, because without people like me who built this place on his back, you wouldn't be where you are today. I did that, you are benefiting from it all. You're profiting from my hard work. The world needs me, this place needs me, they don't need Eddie Lyons. People like you come and go Eddie, people like me, well, we shine forever there Hercules.

He smiled at the camera, taking a second to think about things.

J2H: Now to the battled scared king, Alexander Raven. Never change bro. Maybe I was too quick to judge you last week, it has been a while, but I listened to your words Alexander, I could still feel the passion in you, I saw that the old you is still there inside and I can respect that.

He nodded almost genuinely.

J2H: I watched your stuff and I saw the old you. I expected you to come back broken down, I expected you to come back and not be your usual self. I thought that maybe you had gotten in to your own head once more and become something that is simply not good enough. I admit, I was wrong on that.

He held his hands up.

J2H: Same old Alexander Raven. To wonder if you still have it is a crime because you can still cut a good promo, looking back at your matches so far, there's still something there. It's made me think a lot, it's made me have flashbacks to the days we did do battle, and how much we tore each other apart. It made me think about waking up the next day and hurting, it changed my view a lot Alexander. Last week, I did the me thing, I tore in to you because it was the me thing to do, I didn't know what to expect from you. What do you expect from one of the few friends you had in the business when like you said yourself last week, things got a bit fiery at the end. I was conflicted Alexander, I had it in the back of my mind that maybe you will see this as your chance to get one over on me, pull things back to how you thought things might have ended. I threw shots because I wasn't sure how to deal with this situation. I don't have friends in this business, I wouldn't piss on half this roster if they were on fire, you know this as fact.

He was speaking facts too!

J2H: I felt the respect is still there Alexander, and that's something I can respect. I felt that there is something still there. The end boss is the perfect way for you to describe me, because you know me, you know me better then most on this roster and you know I won't back away. Funny thing with the final boss in everything is there's a reason they're called the final boss and that's because they've earned that reputation. As humans, we all need the same thing, food, water, air, it's the only thing we're all on the same level, but some of us rise, some of us show that we can be better and that's earned through reputation and I get that everyone wants to break the end boss, everyone wants the crown, everyone wants to be at the top of the tree by taking down the end boss, but you know better then anyone Alexander, this boss don't fuck about when it comes to putting people in their place.

He felt proud of that fact.

J2H: But I heard your proposal Alexander and part of me expected that, I didn't expect a lot from you, I didn't know what you was gonna come at me with, but I did expect that and you're right. This match would be much better without Eddie Lyons in it. Everyone wants to see old teammates who destroyed people every single week, that had eyes on them, explode and go for it, see who was the top dog in that group, Eddie is just an inconvenience. Will I accept that proposal? You'll have to wait for Sunday to find out.

A coy smile crossed his lips. He knew he was playing mind games with a man who was a master at mind games.

J2H: Once again, I've lit that fire under you Alexander, it's what I was good at, it's what I knew I could do and maybe you're right about everything you said about me. I do spit venom at everyone, but would you have expected anything less of me?

He stopped as if to wait for an answer.

J2H: Of course you wouldn't have, you'd have no only expected it from me, but deep down, I know you're glad that I did that because you know that's what lights a fire under you and that's what you needed. It's what I needed to do Alexander, because I don't want you to come and half ass everything against me. I need that real Alexander in the ring, that sick fuck who will push it to the limits, I need that more then you need to be that. Weird thing to say against a dangerous man? No, because you don't get that heart racing if you're fighting people who don't care, you don't feel alive if you feel safe, so I need you to be that. Maybe I haven't grown up, maybe I'm still that petty little fuck who needs the control over everything. Maybe I am insecure at my chances, but that drives me Alexander and it gets me thinking, how's it gonna feel for you on Sunday to get beat by an insecure petty little fuck on Sunday?

He knew he was playing mind games with a great, but his ego drove him on.

J2H: How's that gonna feel Alexander, knowing that you just got beat by all those things you claim I am? That's gonna be pretty fucking embarrassing for you Alexander, but I'm gonna be consistent with one thing. Remember what I said to you after I beat you the first time? I told you I hope you stick around and you did, I know, I know, I beat you again after you did stick around, but I really hope you do stick around after this one because even though I'm gonna beat you over again, I still see the heat in you, I still see that you might still have it after all.

He was being completely honest in that assessment.

J2H: I've missed those verbal battles with you Alexander.

Again, he was being honest.

J2H: But it doesn't stop the fact that on Sunday, the unbreakable will be broken, the one true king will fall to the one true god, the fireworks will fire in the air to mark the victory of one person. The battle of Paris, the siege of Paris only ends one way. With the blood of two on my face, with my weapons soaked in the blood of my enemies, with two men heading to Valhalla and one man to sit on the throne and look over his kingdom. This is where I rewrite history. Another achievement with my name on it, another thing for me to brag about for years to come. My name is J2H, and I am your next Blast From The Past winner.... And that's real talk bitch!

And with that, the camera fades to black. >

Supercard Archives / From The Silence

« Last post by Vincent Lyons Jr on May 23, 2025, 08:02:04 AM »

Vincent stood near the window of the hotel, arms crossed watching the lights of Paris dance beneath him. His jaw switched tightly as he stood there in thought.

Victoria was pacing around behind him when he turned to her.
[/i]
“I'm going for a walk.” he said in a firm quiet voice.

“Now?” she said stopping to look at him “At this hour.?”

“Yeah.” he said grabbing his hoodie “I just need to clear my head.”

She made no attempt to stop him she only nodded slightly in his direction.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” she said “I need to call our lawyer anyway, see if we can't take care of this Queen for a Day situation.”

“Good luck with that.” Vincent said

“Thank you.” she said “And you be careful out there, watch your temper I don't want to have to bail you out of a French jail.”

He smirked slightly and walked out the door without a word.

The breeze was light has he walked the streets of Paris hands in his hoodie pocket, Hood put up.

This city was still awake, late closing cafes, the murmurs of tourists, the rumble of mopeds moving between cars, but Vincent moved through it all like a ghost detached and observing.

The loss to Kevin Carter for the Internet Championship hung in his memory. That match WAS meant to be his redemption arc, internet champion, spotlights, another box to check.

He kept walking, letting his mind wander thinking about the loss to Aiden Reynolds, another L on the record books. Then against Helluva Bottom Carter he had made a decision. Cave in his pretty little skull.

He didn't care about the DQ. Not really. what mattered was the moment, the impact, the memory that split second when the fans realized -oh he doesn't care about winning, he just wants to destroy him.-

That moment taught him more than any title ever could, he didn't need to be a champion he needed to be unforgettable.

Now people were whispering when they saw him backstage, moving out of his path remembering what he did and now it was Jayden Harris in the crosshairs.

Jayden had confidence and fire. Vincent couldn't deny that, it was a little too much confidence and that's what made it fun. Jayden thought he was fighting a man, he didn't realize he was fighting a monster that came back from the dead.

Jayden wouldn’t leave Paris the way he came in it, not after he dragged Vincent's family's name through the mud, and if he really thought the management rules and safety he'd learn otherwise just like Carter did.

Jayden wasn't all that rested on his mind. He had his concerns about Victoria as well, something was off with her she was still doing her job, moving the pieces, and staying ahead but her edges weren't as sharp lately.

The whole queen for a day mess had her hands full, she had strings to pull and people to silence, but Vincent saw what others didn't. That the pressure was eating at her and he owed her more than loyalty.

She was the one who pulled him out of the spiral after the island, after the multiple weeks of isolation she didn't flinch when he came back more animal than man. She had brought him back to himself and now she needed him.

He would stand beside her not has a Lyons, not as a tag partner, but as a brother. As a twin. If she started to slip, he'd be the one to catch her before anyone else noticed or anyone tried to take advantage.

This match with Jayden wasn’t about championships, it was about revenge. Revenge for the transgressions against his sister and his family and it was about reminding the world that Vincent Lyons Jr survived hell, and came back sharper and better.

He was here to hurt people until they remembered his name when they closed their eyes at night. That's what Jayden Harris was going to find out when Vincent made him bleed in Paris and not only would Jayden bleed, but Vincent would make sure that his screams echoed long after the bell.

Into The Void was right around the corner and he intended to drag Jayden into the void itself kicking, screaming, and begging for the light that would never come.

__________

The cameras open on a familiar but eerie silence with that thick clinging fog coiling through a ruined landscape. The camera moves slow and deliberately, creeping pans to reveal Vincent Lyons Jr amid the mist cloaked and a tattered black coat his eyes burning with fire.

“It's easy to forget people like me exist.” he said “When the world is loud and the stage is bright and everyone's screaming someone else's name they forget until the silence comes.”

He tilts his head to the side with a smile.

“Jayden…” he said “You stand in the light and act like a boy who's finally being told he matters. Like the world is waking up to what you always thought you were. But I've been awake Jayden. I didn't sleep not when my boat cracked against the reef, not when that island swallowed me whole, and not when the voices stopped talking. I stayed awake long enough to die and come back again.”

He exhales softly.

“You think what I did to Carter was cowardice?“ he said “You think the chair shot was some betrayal of sportsmanship? No it was survival. It was purpose. I hit him because it was the first time in years I felt clarity. The island stripped me of weakness and the silence taught me things you can't learn in locker rooms and training gyms. Besides you know damn well he deserved it and you can't tell me that you didn't like seeing it happen at least a little bit. Because like I said if there's one thing that you and I can agree on it's that Helluva Bottom Carter is in fact a piece of garbage."

He pauses again mostly for effect

“I crashed Jayden.” he said “My boat, my life, and my sanity out there beyond the noise beyond the chairs and the promos and the championships. I died and I came back with only one voice in my head and it told me to -make it matter-. So you think this is just a match? Just another notch on your rise to relevance? No. This is an execution Jayden and you're the one on the chopping block.”

A short pause.

“You say I should blame Victoria and that I should be angry at her?” he said “You think loyalty is weakness, and that if I was strong I’d turn my back on the only person who ever believed in me without condition. You don't get it Jayden. My sister is the last thread of my humanity. You try to cut that I become something else. Maybe you're just angry that I'm a better brother to her than you are to Mikhalia.”

He laughed slightly to himself

“And then you made your little incest comments.” he said. “Is that the thread you really want to leave dangling? Because I'll tell you now Victoria and I have heard it all before. We heard every Jamie and Cersei Lannister joke and every twincest comment thrown our way in the past.”

He shakes his head.

“It's all just childish remarks from people who think shock value makes them clever.” he said, "You just mock what you can't comprehend Jayden. You laugh because you're too small-minded to understand what real royalty looks like and what devotion sounds like. But when you're choking on your teeth in that ring we'll see how funny you still find it.”

A twitch of the eye and a quiver in his lip.

“My sister didn't beg me for help. She didn't need to.” he said “Because I'm not here to protect her, I'm here to avenge her. I'm here to deal with all the weak men who want to disrespect her, who want to disrespect us. I'm the response nobody saw coming.”

He pauses again and a soft wind powers through

“Do you know when it's like to talk to the wind?” he said “To scream into the waves and get nothing back but your own echo? I do and I'll never stop hearing it; that's silence lives in me now it's part of me. You live in noise and camera flashes, you've never faced silence Jayden. Not the kind that rips you to shreds.”

He keeps his tongue sharp and direct.

“I want you to understand something Jayden Harris.” he said “When you step into the ring with me, you're not facing a man you're facing every second I spent alone. Every night I spent remembering how people forgot me, how they moved on like I never existed. You're facing the storm that raised me, and you're facing what comes after everything dies.”

He takes a few deliberate steps towards the camera the fog curling around him like a shroud.

“You won’t win Jayden.” he said “Not because you're weak, but because I'm inevitable. Because I'm the shadow that follows every step you take to the top to let you feel safe and let you feel victorious, but it's always there lurking, watching, waiting to strike.".

He laughs to himself.

“So bring the fire Jayden. Drench the world in gasoline.” he said “Say my name one more time. Once that bell rings and the fog creeps around you, just know I'm already there and you are not going to face the same Vincent you're mocking. You're facing the ghost that came back wrong.”

Which one final glance he turns and walks back disappearing into the fog his voice echoing through.

“I'll see you at into the void Jayden Harris. Be prepared.”

Then the camera's fade to black amid the howl of the wind.

-then silence-

__________

The key card unlock the hotel door with a beep has been sent Lyons to Junior stepped inside the room was quiet the kind of quiet that felt wrong the walk had been long and slow giving him time to clear the debris that collected in his mind but the Silence of this room felt louder somehow.

It didn't take him long to come to the conclusion Victoria wasn't here the room felt as if it had been holding a breath of its own as a sense of absence hit him in the chest harder than it should have. His eyes scanned around the room.

A jacket was draped over a chair and her boots resting near the bed and on the night Stand rested her cell phone.

That was unusual, Victoria was normally not without her phone. Has he stepped closer to the phone he saw it a glass ashtray with the hotels logo waxy with fingerprints and two cigarette butts inside both bent and crushed into the glass.

But Victoria didn't smoke she had a rebellious face as a teenager, and there was a couple weeks when she divorced that Ace Michael's guy shortly after WWH closed.

That's why he knew that this was desperation frustration and presser a moment she didn't want anyone to see but she had left evidence and Vincent knew her well enough to pick up on it.

That ashtray told him everything he needed to know the Queen for a Day pressure the Fatal four-way match the eyes on her to see if she could continue to dominate as everyone expected, or if she was going to fall in spectacular fashion like everyone wanted.

But where had she gone Vincent racked his brain she was his twin where would she go to quietly keep in her thoughts.

The Rooftop.

He quickly made his way to the hallway and into the elevator, magic road its way up to the roof the elevator doors pulled open and a breeze pushed into his face and there she was perched on the ledge with her back to him in a single cigarette between her fingers its tip glowing in the night was Victoria Lyons.

He said nothing to her and she didn't turn he stepped forward and just stood behind her without speaking the two standing there like statues for a few moments supporting each other without demand.

He didn't ask what she was thinking he already knew, he just waited because he knew she would eventually break the silence.

And then she did.

“What?...” she said.

“I didn't say anything.” he replied “Not yet…”

__________

The wind came steady off the sea as Vincent stood watching. Charlie was gone, and there was no effigy left to converse with. Nothing to make him feel like he wasn't alone. He was and he wondered if he would ever make it off this island.

His mind drifted back through the years, moments, people, things that had gotten here to this point.

He saw his father again, Vincent Sr was a true symbol of pride back before the Lyons legacy fractured into rival bloodlines and bitterness. Vincent had been the unbreakable spine of the Lyons family and after his passing everything had begun to fracture.

He remembered the news of the car crash, the dullness in Victoria's voice when she told him.

The funeral felt like a blur of black disappointment, the first time he learned grief could ride in your chest like a stone that never passed.

He'd always look to his father as a hero when he was a kid back when it was just the three of them Vincent, Victoria and Eddie.

The Pride.

They used to say it was such wide-eyed hope when they were kids. The Three Lyons, bound by legacy, strength and ambition. They were to take the rest of the world by storm. Win every championship, nobody with more gold than them.

But dreams can be fickle, Vincent curled his fingers slightly with a soft exhale the memories still circling.

WWH came and went. He had actually made history there, as the first Affliction champion. Victoria in his corner as his support before she laced her own boots up. He kick-started the new generation ofLyons Den Talent under Coach Kaiser. Vincent Jr was the prodigal son. But then like everything else WWH crumbled.

So did Coach Kaiser procure new contracts for Vincent and Victoria after WWH?

No. Instead he went with the former felon Cleo Phillips. Some street kid from The Bronx snatching the opportunity he and Victoria had bled for. PWS wanted her not them. He was told it wasn't personal that it was part of some sort of rehabilitation program and part of Cleo's probation deal.

Fine let that be as it may. But then appeared Alexander Lyons from the unknown. His uncle Zachary's son. He grew up knowing his Uncle Ray, Eddie's father, quite well. But as far as his Uncle Zachary, he was out traveling spending time with ring rats and apparently they making more babies than Nick Cannon.

So Alexander arrived, angry brooding and desperate to matter, he was given the second PWS contract.

But again, everything crumbles and this time it was PWS. So when SCW was reaching out to the Lyon's Den for contracts, it should have been finally their opportunity he and Victoria would finally stop being sent to mudshow companies that failed before they even started they would finally go to a company that knew what they were doing. SCW would be their return.

But this time Eddie and his sunshine smile was the one that got the deal with SCW came knocking. There must have been no space for VLJ anymore in the story. The Golden Boy, the favorite son.

He was even starting to resent Victoria and that was the final crack. He had to go so he got on the boat with Charlie.

He didn't remember much about what they said on the dock the day they set sail they drank and laughed and we're looking forward to the open sea and then Charlie was gone…

Then he felt a way in his chest his knees began to buckle slowly he wasn't even sure how long he had been here anymore but he had became part of this island and the world had passed him by.

He had become a ghost and no one even whispered about him anymore then he felt a dizziness and the ocean twisted into shapes that didn’t make sense. Vincent felt a faint taste of salt water on his lips as everything went black……

…….
…..
…….
…….

When the light returned it came like static over a broken television. A clatter of an engine somewhere and the smell of fish and boat fuel drifted into his nostrils.

He blinked once, twice, three times. A silhouette appeared before him. A man in a jacket leaning against the edge of the boat with a cigarette burning beneath his lips.

Vincent didn't move he just looked and then saw the man look over at him and speak.

“Dimitri! He's awake!” the man said.

“The American?” another voice called back.

______

The cameras open on a cold empty room with Vincent Lyons Jr sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of this space amid the silence he leans forward slightly with his hands clasped together.

“You had a lot to say about family Jayden.” said Vincent “You made a cute fast and the furious reference, but the truth is you don't know my family at all. There is no history of the Lyons family in SCW pre Victoria, Eddie, and myself. Many in SCW know your father but I can count how many knew mine on one hand. Myself, Victoria, Eddie, and Aaron Asphyxia."

His words come calm and measured.

“That's the nature of this business I suppose. Our name was bigger elsewhere in a place where the Harris name was unknown and didn't mean shit.” he said. “Your father has you stated was an underhanded asshole, a real piece of shit the whole nine yards.”

He takes a short pause

“My father..” he said “My father had his own demons. He helped build an empire but few got to see his dark side. His other half, the one he called Syth. That was his shadow. It was a man who didn't care and only wanted blood and sometimes I feel perhaps Syth still lives somewhere inside me. It was like I could hear him knocking when that chair cracked open Carter's skull."

He lets his words linger about the air.

“Do you really think my family is built on applause and standing ovations?” Vincent said “No we're a fractured dynasty. Just look at the facts, let's take a look at Eddie. Eddie Lyons is a man too busy shining his own halo to notice how many people he steps on. He calls it righteousness, Victoria and I call it a delusion. He thinks that he's the hero of the story but he's just another narcissist convinced the sun shines out of his spotlight.”

He shakes his head.

“And my other cousin Alexander?” he said “That guy?! He hates everybody. He hates the family. He's over in PWS following Alexandra Calaway around like a sick puppy holding their tag team championships with her. He's nothing more than a black cloud trying to scream his way into mattering.”

He scoffs in disgust.

“And then we had some new arrivals this year. Matthew Zayvion and Nayeli.” he said “More of my uncle Zack's mistakes wandering and hoping to find meaning in a name they don't understand. They don't even know what they are or what they want they're just lost little cubs in a forest fire.”

He stands up now with an exhale.

“So who really is rooting for me?” said Vincent “My self righteous cousin? My other cousin who won a tag title out of spite toward Victoria? My deceased father? My uncle who choose to favor their own children? It really only is Victoria and I, and my mother I suppose. If I’m fighting for any dynasty, it’s MY line of the family. Not Eddie’s, and not any of my uncle Zacks mistakes. That means Victoria and Me. That’s it.”

He begins to move toward a wall has the camera follows him.

“So you want to burn my family tree to the ground?” said Vincent “Go ahead. You're only adding gasoline to a fire that was already burning. However since you want to send a message to me about burning my family tree to the ground, I'll send you a message how I feel about your family name as well.”

That's when the camera sees it on a chunk of raw ruined concrete spray painted and red the name Harris. His back to the camera Vincent stands in front of it and unzips.

The piss hits the Harris name and trickles to the ground between Vincent's legs. Vincent moving and wriggling around to cover the entire name, careful not to step in his own mess on the floor.

He finishes, his arm shakes twice, he zips back up and turns to the camera really cocky grin on his face.

“I'm not coming into this match for the sake of legacy.” Vincent said “I'm coming for the end, and I'm coming for the execution of Jayden Harris. You have been warned.”

Then there was a sharp cut to black and then....

-silence-

100

Supercard Archives / Re: FRANKIE HOLLIDAY v MIKAH v LAURA PHOENIX - 2025 BFTP FINALS

« Last post by Frankie Holliday on May 23, 2025, 07:07:27 AM »

Stockholm, Denmark, and now… Paris.

Not the three places I would have expected to wrestle for my debut, but here we are.

Beating Melissa, Lilith Locke and Julianna DiMaria? Also not on the people I would have expected to face and beat to get to the finals. But here we are.

Beating Mikah and Laura Phoenix to win the whole fucking thing? Unexpected, for sure.

But I am the unknown. I am the unexpected.

I am full of surprises.

Ready for more?

Paris is going to be something else.

I am going to win the blast from the past tournament.

A change is coming, and sacrifices will be made.

But it will all be worth it.

Trust me.

My morning routine had been quite extensive once my mother lost her license. She was relegated to the house, and it made her very claustrophobic. I had to get myself up and ensure my mother was first, alive, and then awake. I ensured she took her Zofolt, the upper to get her day started along with coffee. Without those two things, I don’t know if she could function. All before getting myself ready and at the bus stop on time.

Charlie would occasionally be awake when I left the house. It all depended on if he had some job to do. But no matter what, it was up to me to get myself ready and prepared for school. It became like a job. More like an internship or volunteering thing, because it wasn’t like I was getting paid. The point being that my mother basically became a non-factor in my development. Things were happening to me and I didn’t understand them and there was no one to teach me. But when I think about it, what could my mother teach me? She was plucked away from her life before she understood it either.

So, you know, when blood started coming out of my vagina, it was a strange and scary experience. I mean, I was 13, and now, I’m just bleeding. Luckily, I had the internet to show me what the hell was going on with my body. My mother was in no condition to actually help me. I got through it, but it’s a bit much to bleed for 5 days without explanation.

The point is, I was the head of my house when I was 13. I did these things because they needed to be done, and no one else was going to do them. But when I needed help? There was no person to guide me. Only strangers on the internet.

But rather than fold, I just kept going.

And that made me better than most of the other children.

I spent most of 7th grade really trying to find some method to get revenge on Melissa for something she hadn’t done yet and never would. And all she ever did was be nice to me. I hated it. I hated her. Like, I spent way too much time really thinking about how I didn’t like her. I could have done a number of things, but all of them seemed too risky. Although people fought all the time in middle school. For the smallest, dumbest things. I could’ve just thrown food on her, or something like this. Claimed it was an accident. These were my real thoughts at the time.

Then, I just sort of dropped it, because of a boy.

Not a boyfriend or anything, because middle school relationships are weird. But just… a friend. Kind of.

His name was Spencer. I had art class with him. Spencer was a talented artist. He could draw landscapes like Bob Ross. He could draw people, places, animals, anything he wanted. He was also quiet and rarely said anything. I don’t know why I got this connection, but I felt it. I was just infatuated with him. I wanted to know about him.

Then I saw him in the cafeteria. For some reason, I was nervous and I walked over to where he was sitting. No one else was there, just him. I sat down and Spencer was drawing something and looked up at me. He seemed confused as to why I would be sitting there, but he didn’t say anything. I had my ear buds in and sat there, watching him draw, and eating. He was meticulous in his work. After a few minutes, he looked up again and we made eye contact.

“Hey.” I said, pulling my ear buds out.

It took him a second, but he finally spoke up. “Hey.”

It felt like forever again, but I finally spoke again “I like your drawing. You’re really good at it.”

He just nodded. I figured that was the end of the conversation, but he looked back at me, and gestured to my phone.

“What are you listening to?” He asked.

“Oh, just some music.” I said. Yeah, of course I was. That was a stupid answer.

“I know. What music?”

“Oh. Um… Stone Sour.” I finally came back.

“Cool.” He answered, before returning to his drawing.

And that was the end of the conversation.

It went on for a few days, I would come and sit with him, he was always alone and always drawing. But gradually, we started having longer conversations. But the ice was broken and we both saw that the one wasn’t out to get the other.

There was a point where we both ended up staying after school. It was late, so Charlie, if he wasn’t hammered by then, would have to pick me up. But I would have to wait. Spencer saw me and we sat on this little school bench.

“Why did you stay after school?” he asked, sitting down

“I had an extra science lab I volunteered to do.” I said.

“Oh.” He replied. Then a beat. “Do you like it here?”

“I… guess.” I said, not really knowing how to answer the question.

“I hate it here.” He said sharply. “Everybody just sucks.”

“Yeah, some people are really shitty.”

“You mean you like the people too?” He questioned.

“I mean, they aren’t all bad.”

“There has to be someone you don’t like.” He said, now genuinely curious.

“I.. I don’t like Melissa.” I answered.

“Really? Why?”

“ I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I just… don’t like her. That’s really it. What about you? You said you don’t like anybody.”

“Because they pick on me.” He said. His tone was lowering and sounding morose.

“Oh. Yeah, that sucks.”

“Does Melissa pick on you?”

“No. She’s actually really nice.” I answered with a shrug.

“Then, why do you hate her?” He was extremely confused.

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“Oh.”

He pulled out his sketch pad and started doodling.

“You said everybody sucks. Do… do I suck?” I asked.

He looked up at me and shrugged.

“No. I think you’re cool, actually. You don’t judge me.”

The reason why anybody judged Spencer was because he looked like he rolled out of bed with his clothes on everyday. He wore glasses and ratty shoes. When we were sharing our miserable life stories, he told me his parents were divorced and his mom was on disability. He wasn’t really poor but he wasn’t doing well from that standpoint. He also had pretty bad acne when I met him. But he was in a pretty shitty situation, just like me.

I felt a sense of pride that Spencer didn’t think I sucked. We had a pretty nice thing going from art class and lunch. We would talk all the time and eventually, I found out that Spencer only lived like a mile away from me. So, we started foregoing the bus and walking home together. We didn’t really talk unless we were alone, or at lunch. In which, nobody sat with us anyway, so we could talk about anything.

We started talking about music, pop culture, and the music we liked. We stopped walking one day and he pulled out a big black booklet from his backpack. It contained CD’s which I thought weren’t even a thing anymore. Any music I found was on the internet.

We found a bench and he handed me the booklet.

“This is the music I like.” He said, pretty proud of himself.

Most of the music was older than I was. Stuff from the ‘80’s and ‘90’s. Some early 2000’s stuff was there too. I pulled out my phone and used the notes feature to write the names of bands and songs that Spencer found to be good. As he had often critiqued my music style.

“I will give some of these a listen.” I said.

“Cool. I know you will like it.” He said, still very proud of himself.

I went home, and began searching up the bands, firing up youtube and my eyes were opened to so many actually good bands and songs. The only real music was what my mom listened to on the radio when she would sit and read. But all of a sudden, I was hearing Nirvana, Alice in Chains, & The Smashing Pumpkins. But also Metallica, Anthrax, Pantera & Cannibal Corpse. Like my mind exploded with these new avenues of music.

I began listening and getting as much as I could. And things progressed and Spencer and I were talking music, movies and art all the time. It… it was nice.

In 8th grade, Spencer was in some of my main classes, but we kept our little secret of not talking to each other in front of people. We both went about our business until we were alone.

But then, something else started to happen, where people started just… talking to me after a couple of years of saying nothing. I was still killing classes and tests, even though it was just getting less and less interesting except for science, which started to talk about life sciences and physical sciences, and that was interesting to me. But the kids started talking to me, asking me things, being friendly to me. People genuinely started to like me.

At first I didn’t know how to take it. It felt weird and sudden that these kids, who were popular, all of sudden found me interesting enough to talk to and hang out with. I was just included in conversations before school and in the hallways. I had forgotten all about not liking Melissa because she wasn’t around and these new kids were and they seemed to raise me up on some kind of pedestal.

Suddenly I was popular.

And I liked it.

They needed me. They relied on me. I was like a god-king to them because I was so intelligent. My superiority complex reared its head again and I was on top of the world.

Spencer was not so fortunate.

I was spending less and less time with him, but we still walked home together. But I could tell he was distant. It wasn’t the same as it once was. I had to say something.

“You got any new… or… old music still? Do you have that booklet?”

He stopped, and stared at me.

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

We kept walking and I didn’t know what to say to him. He was obviously mad that I wasn’t talking to him as much. I realized that how upset he was and I needed to say something to smooth things over, but what?

“So…” I started “Do you need any help with the homework and stuff?”

“No.”

Again. Sharp, and cold.

“I bet your other friends do though!” He said with another sharp bite.

“You are my friend too though, Spencer.” I said, trying to think of something.

“Yeah, but you like them more than me, Frankie! You are always talking to them and not me!”

He was right, but our thing was different.

“We never talk in class, we always talk at lunch or like we are now though. That’s our thing.”

He stopped again, looking at me and trying to still be mad at me. But I was right, this was our thing. I talked to him at lunch, and I talked to him walking home, but we rarely if ever spoke in class. But the truth was, even lunch wasn’t the same, I had to almost find an excuse to go and sit with him, as he was almost always alone at his table. And even then, it was only for a few minutes. It wasn’t fair to him. I know that now.

But middle school is a confusing time for us all, and my confusion led to a choice.

Spencer would get picked on, but he usually just moved on and ignored it. But there was a day that it persisted. I had finished gym and was headed to our last class of the day, Science. I was with some of my other classmates who were asking me about the upcoming test and how to do certain math problems, But there was a commotion and there were a large number of kids all crowded around a spot. I walked towards it, the others not really wanting to get close, parted ways with me.

And there he was.

Spencer was on the ground, kids were laughing and three boys were keeping him there. Shouting at him that he was a loser and had no friends. He looked around and he spotted me. I had been looking long enough to know it was him, but I turned away before he saw me.

“FRANKIE!”

He shouted at the top of his lungs. He screamed it as loud as humanly possible.

It felt like all the heads and eyes turned to me at that point. I could feel them. I had to make a choice.

I acted like I didn’t hear it, and when someone asked if I heard it, I said no. I acted like I couldn't hear through my ear buds.

I marched right out of his sight, ignoring his cries for help.

Sacrifices have to be made when you are a leader.

He confronted me after school on our walk home. I acted shocked and surprised when I saw his face and how torn his clothes were.

“What happened?”

“You saw it! I saw you!” He said, pointing his finger, extremely angry.

“What? Where? I didn’t see anything happen to you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lied.

“I. SAW. YOU.”

“I’m telling you Spencer, I didn’t see you. If I did I would have helped.”

“I YELLED YOUR NAME!”

“I didn’t hear you. I must have had my earbuds in maybe. I swear, I don’t know what happened!”

Spencer was silent as we walked home. His pace was far quicker than mine. I nearly had to run to keep up with him. When we reached the spot we would normally split and say good-bye, he just turned. He power walked away, and I sighed and continued on my way home.

Then, after a few days of silence and not talking at all despite my efforts to continue as if nothing happened…

Spencer stopped coming to school. I had his number and I texted him, but the messages remained on sent.

Then we all got the news that Spencer was reported missing. And after 3 weeks, they found him.

Spencer had taken his own life in the woods near his home.

The police interviewed me after they searched his home and found his sketch pad. He drew a number of drawings, and some were of me. He regarded me as a friend. I was his only friend. He wrote it in a journal. He very much enjoyed that I didn’t judge him, and I was there. Because he didn’t have anybody else. Until that day. Though he never mentioned it in his journal. Perhaps he accepted my excuse of not seeing him.

I don’t know, and I’ll never know now.

All I could do was move on.

I must ask this question of you Mikah.
Actually, several.

Did you really buy yourself a crown?
Did you really put that crown on your head like you were a queen or deserving of wearing a crown?
Did you think this was a cool thing? Like a physical metaphor?
Did you not think that was silly?
Do you use that crown for other things? Is it like a costume party thing?

I mean, obviously you thought it was cool, and made you look like a badass. You’re the queen! You wear the crown because nobody else can wear it!

That is… really the most insecure thing I may have ever seen.

I just want you to stop and think for a second and understand that you went out of your way to buy a crown to wear to talk to people. Like, you really did that. You are really trying to live up to how good you think you are when you know it’s not true. I respect the determination to go with the whole “If I say if enough, people will believe me” thing. Right on.

You piss and moan about being forgotten one week, and then the next you throw on an actual crown like you, after beating Cassie Wolf mind you, have accomplished the goal of being back. How does that work? What makes a person worthy of wearing a crown? You clearly don’t have any royal blood in you, and hold no authority. So, it was symbolism, but again, there just aren’t many people who put you in the list of great bombshells, and even less that would put you at top. In fact, the only person who would, is you.

I for one, was howling with laughter when you put that thing on your head. “I’m the queen, I’m the mountain. I am the crown” It was a laugh riot to hear you exclaim these things and be so confidently wrong. And what’s even more hilarious is that you don’t even believe the words when you say them. You put an actual crown on your head and said out loud you were the crown. You know that’s so stupid, right? But that’s right, you didn’t come back to chase glory, even though that’s… literally what you are doing, but no, you came back to dominate!

I understand you have to convince yourself of that, and you need a very wide and loose definition of “dominate” in order to do so. You just aren't convincing, Mikah.

If you were truly secure in your legacy, truly able to let it stand on its own, you wouldn’t need to be entering this tournament in the first place. You want to make people your name because you get pushed aside because, let’s face it, others have more important, and more impressive legacies than you do. And we know this, because you keep calling Amber Ryan back to team with you. You really want to just rub elbows with people who outclassed you. T

If Amber Ryan did as you have practically begged her to do, and returned to Sin City Wrestling, what on earth would she need you for? Why would she team with you? There’s no Bombshell’s tag titles anymore, so what’s the point of teaming with you? She can easily win any title she wants. Having you there makes little to no difference. You would be entirely useless to her if she came back.

Amber Ryan does not need you. You need her.

Besides, she likes me more than you, anyway.

She would get no benefit from propping you up, and dragging you along in this nostalgia act. Why do you think she just humors you by politely telling you she’s busy but she’s watching. It’s like you are a child who needs the approval of their mother. Yes Mikah, she’s watching you, you slide down that slide! Good for you!

Wait… do you… do you really think Amber is your friend? Wait… no seriously, you want to have a friend?! Oh my god that’s so precious! Mikah needs a friend. Holy shit.

This fits you a “T” anyway. A desperate, attention whore, who is all “I don’t need anybody’s approval and I’m a bad bitch…” And so on so forth, you know, you say these things all the time. Yet, you continue to need Mark Ward’s approval. You need Amber’s approval. You need Simon Jones’s approval. I mean, you sat there and tried to say that everybody’s attention was on you when it was announced that you were participating in this tournament. But if this were true, you wouldn’t need to reserve your name. This would be something like I would do. I did that, in fact. Because who the hell would know or care about me? You are Mikah, right? You’re supposed to be able to come in and dominate. I mean, if you were that badass, everybody would have just flaked out and canceled and you would have been the automatic winner. But… they didn’t. You hid your entry to try and draw interest when your name was called.

I certainly didn’t see anybody go “Oh no, Mikah is in this!” It was more “Oh, Mikah’s in this? I thought she was retired?”

No one is afraid of you, or your name anymore. If this was 2016? Maybe. But no matter how bad you want it, it’s just not happening anymore.

On the contrary, it is you, who doesn’t seem to know me. It is you who is afraid of me.

I would assume this is why you threw out wild random ass accusations hoping that one sticks.

I am afraid of you?
I am seeking redemption?
I want to go viral?

What are you even blathering about? Why would I be afraid of you? I’ve studied you for a long time, I have no reason to fear you. You wore a crown on camera like it meant something. Stop it.

Also, I can assure you, I don’t ask, or seek redemption. I am terrible and I know that, and I embrace that. Trust me, you will find that out very soon.

I want to go viral? I don’t even know what you’re on about. I tweet some things I find entertaining for fucks sake, I guess I’m wrong for that?

No, Mikah, I don’t think you know me at all.

So when this is all over, and you lose, I will remind you that this will be your biggest failure. You’re Mikah, you’re supposed to dominate and be the end all be all and that happy horseshit, but at the end of this, you will be an “also took part.” You will be another name I came straight out of the gate and beat. I will be at the top, right away, and I will have the right to say I beat Mikah and exposed her for the fraud she really is. I will snatch her stupid crown from her hands, and I will toss it away.

No, Mikah, I don’t seek redemption.

I seek revolution.

And for any revolution to work, sacrifices have to be made. And you will be one of them.

I am the future.

And I will make you believe.

Trust me.

Moving on to Laura…

Laura, I just want you to understand that this isn’t personal.

It probably felt that way since, you know, I said what I said about Bella and all, but it’s not personal. I don’t really care if you hate my guts now because I said those things, what matters is I am after a prize, and you stand in my way. And I don’t intend on losing to you or Mikah as part of a feel-good storybook ending for you, or whatever Mikah wants to call her nostalgia run. This isn’t about you, or her. It’s about me.

I was simply demonstrating that I will go to any depths, and say the things I need to say to ensure I get the best out of you. And right now, you’re kind of failing in that department. I need you focused, I need you motivated, because I don’t want any excuses from either of you when I win. I want you at your best, because I want you to realize that even at your best, it wasn’t good enough.

The things I said about you and Bella? They were the truth, and I hope they upset you. I hoped they made you mad. I wanted to start a fire in you, I want it to consume you. And just to plant a little bit of fear in you. Because when that fear grows, when it takes hold, I’ll know it. I’ll look into your eyes and then when you look back at me, you will know that I know.

Because I want to think about something here, Laura: If I am willing to slag you, your legacy, and your family, just to get a rise out of you, what am I willing to do in order to beat you in the ring? That’s the truly scary part, isn’t it? You don’t know. And you’ll always fear what you don’t know. The unknown. And truthfully, I don’t even know. And that’s half the fun of this Laura. I just want you to know, I’m willing to stoop to depths that are pretty goddamn low.

Because I have a job to do. A mission to accomplish. And it means beating you and beating Mikah. You two have to be the sacrifices, so that the goal can be reached. The only good part for you, is that once this is over, you don’t have to take part in what’s coming. You and Mikah can stay on the sidelines and watch. And breathe a sigh of relief that it’s where you are, and it’s where you’re going to stay.

The same cannot be said for your daughter, but that’s just how this has to work.

I know you may be worried or nervous about my takeover, but trust me, it’s for the best. I am remaking this company in my image and you, and Mikah are the last couple of pawns that need to be sacrificed. It’s just that simple. Had you not decided for one last run and really, not decided to try and call me “kid” and give me the verbal condescending pat on the back you did, this wouldn’t be happening to you.

You will just have to live with the fact that you helped cause all this.

But again, you could have been anybody. Had you not beaten Sam Marlowe, this would have been the same speech I gave here. Because you both are interchangeable. You and Mikah are just different sides of the same coin, the only difference really is the fact that she’s living in denial and you have accepted this as one last run.

But the run is over in Paris.

It all comes to crashing down and it ends in utter failure. But hey, you had fun right? You enjoyed that last look in the spotlight. I know, you’ll want to deny it, but that’s the first step, you know? You didn’t know what would happen. Now you’re feeling guilt, which you certainly should feel. And then we hit anger and bargaining. Depression and loneliness, so on and so forth.

I am going to cure your addiction to the spotlight and ensure that you do not want to come back. Then you can sit at home, and enjoy life. I will take good care of Bella, you don’t need to worry about that. Just understand that you could have prevented this, but you weren’t strong enough. Your time is over, and my time is now.

This is a revolution Laura, and when the old stand in the way of the future, they have to be removed from the picture. You standing across from me, is the worst place you can be, because as the leader of this revolution, I will have to personally see to it that you aren’t in the way anymore. I don’t want to hear the argument in Paris, Laura. It’s too late now. You had a chance to not be the example, but you chose to enter this tournament. You made a mistake, and for that, you have to be punished. I don’t make the rules.

I mean, I will eventually, but at this moment I do not. So I’m following the rules set forth. You have to be put down, and if necessary, I will make you stay down. It’s not that I want to do that to you, Laura, but you’re making me do this. You’re making this harder on me then it should be. All you have to do is stay down Laura, I’m giving you the option right here and now. It’s not hard, don’t make it hard.

But, then again, I know you will do the opposite. Older generations always go for the hardest path. “Builds character” they say. The reality is, it’s a losing battle and you’re not built for it. But yet, you will try. I know you will. You would rather die on your shield as they say, rather than do things the easiest and least painful way. Fine, I can’t stop you, but I want you to remember this whole thing when it’s over.

I want you to remember that I gave you the chance and opportunity to do the right thing. So, when it’s all said and done, and you lose, it will be all your fault. You will have no one to blame but yourself. Because by hook, or by crook, I’m going to win this tournament. I will do anything and everything to do so.

Just remember I gave you fair warning.

Revolution requires sacrifice.

Through your pain, will come what needs to happen.

It’s for the best.

Trust me.

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