Miles, I know it’s been radio silent for the last month or so. I apologize about that mate, and I wouldn’t break the silence if I didn’t have new information about that kid, Kevin.

So going off the information you gave me, I took it upon myself to hunt down the boy’s father. We found him and had a long conversation in regards to his son. About 6 months ago, when this all began, Kevin had run away from home. That’s apparently when you bumped into him there on Fremont Street...he was trying to see his mum but because he’s still a kid...well long story short, he only hung around for a few more weeks and came back to LA. How is not the question but as you said, you were told that he was going to try and get back into the house with his da. After that conversation that I had with his da, it didn’t go well. Like at all.

Mate, this kid is lost. It’s far worse than what we could have imagined. He’s not just a runaway. He’s being trafficked. We lost track of him about 2 weeks ago, shortly after we had actually talked to you, and then just a few days ago, he popped up on our radar only for him to vanish again. With what we’ve seen, we believe that he is with someone for him to get back to Vegas.

I’ve reached out to the detective that you let me know about, he has been made aware and has been shown every piece of evidence that we have. He encouraged me to reach out to you personally about this but has made it clear to not interfere with the investigation.

....and that’s where Miles slammed the lid to his laptop shut and almost took it and tossed it over the balcony.

“FUCK!”

This was two weeks ago when he got that email from Ben Jordan. He had been practically yoked to his phone since then and since he was advised to not interfere...if you ever knew anything about Miles, you know that was not about to happen.

First call out of the gate, Detective LaSalle. Same words: We’re investigating. Stay out of the way.

Did it stop him?

HA...Not in the slightest.


Las Vegas – Cheap Motel Parking Lot – Late Night

Miles sat on the hood of his Jeep, elbows on his knees, the desert air pressing down like a weight he couldn’t shake. The phone in his hand was lit up with an unsaved number. For a second, he just stared at it—thumb hovering over the screen—before he finally pressed to answer. “Yo”

A gravelly voice came through the speaker, tired and wary.

“Is this Miles Kasey?”

He didn’t recognize the voice. That made him sit up straighter. “Yeah. Who’s this?”

“This is Devin. I run the front desk over at the Sierra Motel on Fremont. You left your number with one of my guys. Said to call if we saw a kid named Kevin.”

Miles’ heart thudded against his ribs. He swallowed. “Go on.”

“He came through here about two hours ago. Checked in with some older guy—mid-thirties, scumbag type. Didn’t catch a last name, but they paid cash. The kid looked rough. Thin, dirty. Like he hadn’t slept in days.”

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re sure it was him?”

“Longish brown hair. Blue hoodie. Kept his head down the whole time but he has brown eyes. He barely even make eye contact.”

“That sounds him,” Miles breathed. His pulse spiked, part relief, part dread. “Can you give me a room number?”

There was a pause. Then:

“205. It’s on the second floor. I can’t promise they’ll still be here by morning.”

Miles closed his eyes, thumb tapping against his thigh. He’d been waiting months to hear something—anything—that wasn’t a dead end or a rumor. Now that he had it, the fear was worse. The knowledge that Kevin was alive was tangled up in the certainty that he was also in danger.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low. “I owe you.”

He hung up before the man could say anything else. For a moment, Miles just sat there, staring across the dark parking lot, the neon sign buzzing overhead. His reflection in the windshield looked as tired as he felt.

He thought of all the nights he’d lain awake wondering if he’d ever find the kid. If he’d be too late. If he was even doing the right thing. And he thought of the way Carter would look at him if he came back empty-handed. Of LJ’s voice telling him that sometimes, people didn’t want to be saved.

Miles pushed off the hood, shoulders squared. Didn’t matter. He was going.

As he rounded the car to the driver’s side, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone again. A text to Carter flickered on the screen:

Going to Fremont. Found him. Room 205. I’ll handle it.

He hesitated, then typed one more line:

If I’m not back in 3 hours, come get me.

He pocketed the phone, climbed in, and started the engine. The headlights flared to life in the dark, painting the cracked asphalt in white and gold.

One way or another, this ended tonight.

The Sierra Motel looked exactly how you’d expect a place called the Sierra Motel to look at 1:23 in the morning: battered neon buzzing overhead, a couple of guys smoking in plastic chairs outside their rooms, a scattering of cars in the lot that were either stolen or one breakdown away from a junkyard.

Miles climbed out of the Jeep and shut the door as quietly as he could manage. His pulse thudded like a war drum in his throat. He tilted his head back for a second, drawing a long breath of desert air, feeling the heat even at this hour radiating up from the cracked concrete.

He could hear his own inner voice screaming at him:

Stay out of it.

But Miles had never been good at staying out of anything when someone needed him.

He crossed the lot, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets to keep from fidgeting. He found the metal stairwell and climbed it two steps at a time, the rusted grates creaking under his boots. At the top, the hallway was empty, just peeling paint and the sharp smell of bleach.

205.

He stood there a second, heart hammering. He didn’t even have a plan. He just knew he wasn’t leaving without that kid.

He raised a fist and knocked—sharper than he meant to.

No answer.

Miles swallowed, leaned in close. “Kevin, it’s Miles Kasey.”

Still nothing. He tried the handle.

Locked.

Inside, he thought he heard movement—soft, quick.

He knocked again, louder this time. “Kevin, I know you’re in there bruv. You were recognized when you checked in with whoever the hell is in there with ya. Now, open the door.”

A muffled voice shot back from inside. “Go away.”

Miles braced both palms on the door. “I’m not going anywhere. Open the damn door.”

“No.”

And then another voice—deeper, older—snapped from inside. “I told you not to talk to anybody.”

Miles’ blood iced over. That voice was sharp and venomous, the kind that slithered under your skin. He felt a snarl rising up his throat.

“KEVIN! Open this fuckin’ door,” Miles growled, slamming his fist against it now.

He heard rustling, then silence. Then a click.

The door cracked open barely an inch. Just enough for Miles to see a narrow sliver of Kevin’s face: pale, exhausted, a bruise blossoming along his jaw. His brown hair hung greasy around his eyes.

“Miles,” he whispered. “You can’t be here, please.”

“With all due respect, mate...Fuck that,” Miles hissed. He pressed his palm to the door, forcing it open another couple inches. “Come out here. Now.”

“No, no—I can’t—”

A rough hand yanked Kevin back into the room, hard enough to make him yelp. Miles saw a glimpse of a man—mid-thirties, scruffy, eyes wild. And then the door slammed shut.

Miles reeled back, teeth bared, chest heaving. He blinked once, twice. Then he took two steps back—and drove his foot into the door. It shuddered but held.

Inside, the man shouted, “Are you fuckin’ crazy?! PISS THE FUCK OFF!”

Miles wound up and kicked it again. CRACK. This time the latch splintered and the door burst inward. Miles lunged into the room, fists clenched, adrenaline redlining.

The man stumbled back, hauling Kevin in front of him like a shield. “Don’t you fuckin’ come closer!”

Miles saw the glint of something metal—knife, maybe. He didn’t care. His eyes locked on Kevin’s, wide and terrified.

“Let him go,” Miles said, voice low, deadly calm.

The man spat. “You think you can just walk in here and take him? This kid’s mine—”

And that was it. Miles lunged.

The guy barely got the knife up before Miles crashed into him, ripping Kevin free. The blade slashed at Miles’ forearm, but he didn’t feel it. Even with blood lightly coming from the scratch, he managed to drive a fist into the man’s gut, then another into his jaw, the impact rattling his knuckles.

The man crumpled sideways, groaning. Miles planted a foot on his chest and pinned him there, eyes blazing.

“You come near him again, I’ll bury you. That’s not a threat, asshole.” Miles snarled, voice shaking with rage. He turned, gripping Kevin’s shoulders. “Kev. Come on kid, look at me.”

Kevin was shaking, breathing in short, ragged gasps.

“You’re alright, mate. You’re coming with me, right now.”

Kevin blinked tears out of his eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly. Miles kept one hand on him, steering him out the door. Sirens were wailing in the distance. Somebody must have called them. Miles didn’t care. Let them come. Let them try to explain why he’d busted down a door and decked some low-life scumbag.

As they descended the stairs, Kevin glanced up at him. “Miles, I’m sorry.”

Miles just squeezed the back of his neck, trying to steady his own shaking hands. “Not your fault, mate. Not for a second, just keep moving. Just because he’s down doesn’t mean he’s out and I’m not about to wait around to find out.”

They reached the lot, and Miles popped the passenger door open. “Get in.”

Kevin didn’t even hesitate with the man and slid into the seat. Miles slammed the door shut, exhaling a breath that felt like he’d been holding it for months.

He could already hear Carter in his head, asking what the hell he’d just done. But as he climbed behind the wheel and looked over at Kevin, pale and trembling but alive, Miles knew one thing for certain:

He’d do it all over again.

Next stop...Turnberry Towers.

The sun hadn’t even cleared the horizon when Miles unlocked the door and ushered Kevin inside. Carter was already waiting in the living room, pacing back and forth in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair a platinum tangle around his face.

The second he saw Miles, he exploded.

“Miles, what the fuck—”

But he stopped short when he saw Kevin.

Kevin hovered in the doorway, shoulders hunched, brown hair hanging in his eyes, face pale and hollow. His clothes were rumpled and too big for him, and his hands were trembling.

Carter’s entire demeanor shifted. The anger evaporated, replaced by that fierce protective softness Miles had fallen in love with a thousand times over.

“Oh… Kev.”

Kevin flinched a little at the attention, eyes darting around the house like he was waiting to be told he couldn’t stay. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be” Miles steered him toward the couch. “Come on, mate. Sit. Eat something.”

He’d already set out leftovers—rice, grilled chicken, some toast. Kevin sank down and practically began to inhale the food, eating so fast he barely paused to chew.

“Take your time, Kevin.” Carter called out as he lingered beside Miles, voice low. “Is he okay?”

Miles shook his head slightly. “I’d like to say yes but it’s not even close.”

Kevin kept eating until suddenly he stopped, his face blanching. He doubled over, dropping the fork, and Miles was already moving. He grabbed the plastic bucket he’d set on the coffee table and held it out just in time for Kevin to retch violently into it. “Easy mate. Breathe through it. Get a drink of water, small sips.”

Carter winced, hand over his mouth, but Miles kept a hand on Kevin’s back, steady, patient.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin rasped, voice raw taking the sips slowly like told. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” Miles murmured, gently rubbing his shoulder. “It’s normal andhHappens when you don’t eat properly for weeks.”

Kevin shivered, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

Just then, someone knocked at the front door—sharp, authoritative. Carter glanced at Miles, eyebrows up. Miles sighed, squeezed Kevin’s shoulder, and went to answer it.

Detective LaSalle stood at the doorway, flanked by two uniformed officers. His tie was crooked, dark circles under his eyes.

“Well,” LaSalle drawled, stepping inside, “I figured if you were going to completely ignore my advice, I’d at least come see how spectacularly you did it.”

Miles gave a humorless half-laugh, moving aside to let them in, “Can’t say I wasn’t warned. He’s in the living room.”

Carter hovered near the couch, keeping himself between Kevin and the newcomers. LaSalle noticed and softened his tone.

“Is that the kid?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Miles said. “That’s Kevin.”

LaSalle crossed his arms. “Well, at least he is alive but....Tell me what happened.”

Miles ran a hand through his hair. “Well I’m never one without connections, I got a call from one of them. That ratty murder motel on Fremont rung me up and Kevin was there with some piece of shit. I tried to talk him out. The guy pulled a knife and I handled it.”

That’s when Carter noticed Miles’ arm had a slice on it and immediately gasped, grabbing his arm and making sure it wasn’t horrible, “Miles! What the...”

“I’m fine, love. It’s just a small cut. Stopped bleeding before I even got Kevin in the car.” Miles smirked. “I told you, I handled it.”

Carter muttered, “You handled it. Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

LaSalle exhaled through his nose. “Goddamn it, Kasey. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? If that guy’d had a gun, or—”

Miles cut him off, voice low. “I didn’t give a shit! I wasn’t leaving him there.”

LaSalle stared at him for a beat, then nodded slowly. “I know. And for what it’s worth… It was reckless as hell. But it was brave. And you probably saved that kid’s life.”

Kevin curled tighter into himself on the couch, arms around his middle. Carter was kneeling in front of him now, talking softly, trying to calm him down.

LaSalle glanced over. “Has he said anything?”

“Barely,” Miles admitted. “He’s terrified. He just keeps apologizing for everything.”

LaSalle’s expression tightened. “We’ve got resources lined up for him. Trauma counselors. Safe housing. But first… he needs medical care. I can tell that he’s malnourished, probably dehydrated. We need to get him checked out.”

Kevin’s head snapped up, eyes huge. “No hospitals. I’m not going. I’m not—”

LaSalle crouched down beside the couch, lowering his voice. “Kevin. Listen to me. I know you’ve been through hell. But you need medical care. You need a doctor to look you over. You won’t be alone. We’ll have officers posted outside your room, twenty-four-seven.”

Kevin shook his head violently. “They’ll find me. He’ll find me—”

“No, they won’t,” LaSalle said firmly. “We’ll keep it off the books. No name on the charts. You’ll be under guard the whole time. If we have anything to ever say about it, you’re not going back there. Not ever.”

Kevin swallowed hard, eyes glassy.

Carter leaned closer, voice soft. “Kev… please. Let them help. You can’t keep living like this.”

Kevin looked between them all—Carter, LaSalle, Miles. His breath stuttered in and out, fast and shallow.

“Will you… will you come?” he whispered at last, eyes on Miles.

Miles nodded immediately. “Every step, mate. I’ll be right there as much as I can.”

Kevin’s shoulders sagged, like the last bit of fight drained out of him.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

LaSalle stood and signaled one of the officers. “We’ll transport him. Kasey, you can follow in your car.”

Kevin tried to stand, but his legs wobbled. Miles and Carter each grabbed an arm, steadying him.

“You sure about this?” Carter murmured to Miles as they helped Kevin to the door.

“No,” Miles said truthfully. “But it’s the only choice.”

As they stepped into the hall of the condo tower heading to the elevator, Miles caught LaSalle’s eye.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

LaSalle nodded. “Don’t make a habit of this vigilante shit, Kasey.”

Miles gave him a tired grin. “No promises.”

And with Kevin between them, they headed into the elevator, pressing the button for the garage to head for the cars, leaving the quiet condo behind them.

-------

A summer heatwave shimmered outside the condo windows, heat radiating off the Vegas Strip like a living thing. Inside, the air conditioning hummed steadily, battling against the desert sun. Miles stood at the kitchen counter, chopping fruit into a bowl for lunch, while Carter lounged on a stool nearby, scrolling through his phone and occasionally humming under his breath.

A sharp trill of Miles’ phone cut through the quiet. He glanced down, saw BRIANNA flashing on the caller ID, and grimaced. “Well...”

Carter leaned closer. “Oh, that’s your you’re-in-trouble face.”

“Shh,” Miles hissed, stabbing the ‘answer’ button. “Hey, Bri—”

Brianna’s voice came bursting through the speaker like a bomb: “MILES KASEY, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU DONE?!”

Carter slapped a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh. Miles braced his elbows on the counter. “Uh. Hi. Lovely to hear your voice. How’s London?”

“DON’T YOU DARE,” Brianna shouted, her accent sharper than glass. “I just got to the post depot because your packages arrived. Do you know how many customs forms I had to fill out for a robotic wrestling ring, designer toddler sneakers, a toddler-sized BLUEY CHAMPIONSHIP BELT, and—and—front row tickets for Bluey Live in Manchester?!”

Miles winced. “Technically, the belt was Carter’s idea.”

Carter perked up, waving. “Hi Bri!”

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me Carter!” Brianna snapped. “Riley’s been wearing that belt all day and shouting ‘I’m the CHAMPION like Uncle Miles!’ at random tourists on Southbank. He’s nearly decapitated three people with it. And now he’s insisting he’s going to Manchester alone to see Bluey!”

Carter tilted his head. “Well...He’s a very independent boy.”

“CAR-TER.”

Miles coughed into his fist. “Listen, Bri, we felt awful. We couldn’t be there for his birthday, and everything’s been you know, a lot. So we figured he deserves to be spoiled a bit.”

Brianna’s voice dropped half an octave. “Spoiled a bit? Miles Anthony Kasey, my entire flat is covered in Bluey merchandise and toddler lucha masks!”

Carter clapped his hands. “Oh, did the masks arrive?! Tell Riley he can keep whichever color he wants.”

Brianna let out a long, slow exhale that crackled over the speaker like static. “Boys. I love you both. I do. But do you have any idea how hard it is explaining to an almost-four-year-old that he cannot, in fact, start a tag team with Bluey and Bingo and then challenge people on the London Underground?”

Carter squinted. “Are we sure he can’t?”

Miles hissed, “Carter!”

Brianna went on, voice softer now but still strained. “Look. I know why you’re doing this. I know things have been insane and rough. And I know you hate missing out. But please. No more gifts for at least six months. My neighbours are already giving me looks because of the luchador delivery guys.”

Miles scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Bri. I just- I feel like I’m missing everything. He’s growing up so fast. I was there when he just got brought into the world and well, I... hell WE get to watch him grow up through a computer screen at times”

Brianna’s tone was gentle. “I know you are, love. And you’re not missing everything. You’re still his hero. You always will be.”

Miles’ eyes prickled unexpectedly. “Tell him I’ll video chat later, yeah?”

“I will.” A pause, then Brianna added dryly: “But if he attempts a moonsault off my coffee table one more time, I’m sending him to live with you.”

Miles cracked a grin. “We’d take him in a heartbeat.”

Brianna sighed. “I know you would. I love you both, but seriously, no more Bluey. And no more wrestling gear.”

Carter raised a finger. “Can we still send snacks?”

“MILES. CONTROL YOUR HUSBAND.”

Carter turns and looks at Miles with his best stern face: “Yes Miles. CONTROL me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Miles said solemnly, nudging Carter and giving him that look.

“Just....ease up boys! Love you both and we’ll chat later.” Brianna ended the call, leaving the two men standing in the quiet kitchen.

Carter turned to Miles with a sly grin. “Soooo, we should probably cancel the custom toddler-sized entrance robe we ordered.”

Miles groaned and thunked his forehead against the counter. “You’re going to get me disowned.”

Carter slung an arm around him. “She’ll forgive us. Eventually. Besides, we're the fun uncles.”

Miles sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

-----

Trio Terror
Boulder, CO – Early Evening

The sun dipped behind the mountains, spilling red-gold fire across the ridges, casting long shadows over Boulder’s streets below. Miles Kasey stood on a rocky overlook, one boot propped on the guardrail, hoodie tugged tight against the breeze coming off the peaks. His breath misted faintly in the cooling air.

His eyes traced the line where sky met stone, but there was a weight behind them—a restlessness simmering under his skin.

“Funny thing about weeks like this,” he murmured, voice gravelly from a lack of sleep. “You can’t ever decide if the days went too fast… or if they’re dragging you behind ‘em like an anchor.”

“You know… people keep telling me to slow down,” he said, his voice carrying over the rustle of dry grass. “Telling me I’ve earned a break. But the truth is, I can’t afford to slow down. Not now. Because that triple threat match ain’t just a match. It’s the first domino.”

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, jaw flexing.

“Summer XXXTreme is a few weeks away. That cruise ship? That’s where legacies get made. Or get left behind at the docks. And lately, I’ve felt like I’ve been drifting somewhere in the middle.”

Miles squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve spent so much of my time trying to help other people. Trying to make sure Kevin survived. Trying to make sure Carter was okay. Trying to keep my family from crumbling. And all the while, I’ve let a bit of my own shine fade out.”

He opened his eyes again, fierce and sharp.

“But not anymore.”

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the metal guardrail.

“A win this week puts me back on a pedestal. It plants my name back in every conversation going into Summer XXXTreme. Because no matter how much respect I’ve got for Aiden Reynolds. No matter how much fire I know Eddie Lyons still has buried inside him. I’m the one who needs this.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, eyes drifting shut for half a heartbeat.

“I keep seeing that kid’s face. Kevin. I have it burnt into my head of him sitting in my living room, shaking like a leaf, trying to eat and puking his guts out right after. Sixteen years old and already carrying more scars than some blokes twice his age. And part of me’s grateful he’s safe. Another part? Still wants to break the bastard who put him through it.”

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away.

“But I can’t do shit about that right this second. Because in a couple days, I’ve got Aiden Reynolds and Eddie Lyons standing across the ring from me… and the ring doesn't care if you’ve had a shit week. The bell rings all the same.”

Miles’ gaze hardened as he stared out at the horizon, shoulders squaring.

“Aiden Reynolds.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and fond all at once.

“I love you like a brother, mate. Hell, you are my brother. But you’ve always been this spark, yeah? Bouncing off walls, being there for a great laugh, taking risks no sane man would, because you’ve got that belief that somehow, you’ll stick the landing. But the ring’s not always so forgiving and you know that just as well as myself and Eddie. In just a few weeks we will be aboard the cruise ship that’s gonna be the tightest spotlight we’ve had in months. So I’m telling you now, I’m not stepping back just because we share the same locker room. I’m coming to win.”

He drew in a slow breath, trying to steady the thunder rolling in his chest.

“And then there is Eddie Lyons...” His mouth twisted into something caught between respect and challenge. “You’ve been standing at the crossroads ever since you lost that Roulette belt to AIDEN by the way. Like you’re waiting for a sign to tell you it’s alright to charge forward again. But the truth is, Eddie, and take this with someone with some experience, the sign ain’t coming. Not unless you take it. But I’ll be damned if I let you take it off me.”

He dropped his foot from the rail and started pacing a slow circle, the gravel crunching under his boots.

“See, this isn’t just another triple threat for me. This isn’t just a warm-up for the cruise. This is me proving to myself that I’m not just the bloke who spends his days worrying about kids in hospital beds or about holding my family together or about trying to be everything for everyone.”

He paused, jaw working as he swallowed hard.

“I need this. I need to feel my fists hit someone’s body and remember that I’m still dangerous. That I’m still a threat. That I’m not just surviving—I’m fighting.”

Miles tilted his head back, staring up at the indigo sky where stars were starting to peek through.

“And yeah, maybe that’s selfish. Maybe after everything this week, I should be slowing down. But slowing down never saved anyone and I’ve got too much left to prove.”

He turned, eyes blazing, voice tightening into steel.

“So Aiden, Eddie, come at me. Bring me every ounce of skill, every trick, every drop of your fight. Because when that bell rings, I’m swinging like my entire goddamn soul’s on the line. And I promise you both, I’m not walking out of that ring empty-handed.”

He sucked in a breath of crisp mountain air, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Not this time. Not ever again.”

Miles gave the mountains one last look, then turned and strode back down the path toward town, his shadow stretching long behind him under the bleeding colors of twilight.

The song performed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n0BTWiSb8Rw
This one is for Todd -Laura


The door clicked shut behind him with a hollow finality, leaving the hallway in silence. Miles Kasey stood still for a long moment outside the dressing room, staring at the cold, sterile corridor like it held answers he wasn’t going to get.

Inside, Carter was finally resting—barely coherent, a mess of sweat, blood, and dazed breaths. LJ had been taken off to the trainer’s area, conscious but barely upright after the absolute hell Alex Jones had put him through in that Last Man Standing match. Miles had done all he could, or at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

Miles leaned forward and braced his hands against the wall, jaw tight, heart hammering in his chest like it was trying to punch its way out. His fingers curled into fists against the concrete, knuckles bone-white.

The images wouldn’t stop replaying.

Alex Jones standing tall.

LJ not getting back up.

Carter rushing in to protect him.

And then—

That fucking stomp.

Carter’s face was driven into a steel chair. The crack of the boot against the skull. The sickening way Carter’s body had gone limp.

Miles’ eyes slammed shut, breath catching in his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“You weren’t fast enough.”
“You should’ve known.”
“You promised you’d protect them.”

The voices in his head started crawling up his spine like rot. He shoved back, hard, nearly throwing himself off the wall as a low, furious growl ripped out of his chest.

He turned and slammed his fist into the side of a steel equipment case—CLANG. The metal rattled violently, pain blooming instantly through his hand, but he didn’t stop.

Another punch. CLANG. Another. CLANG.

Until the case tipped over and the hallway echoed with the crash of gear spilling everywhere.

His chest was heaving now, and sweat had started to bead along his brow. He dragged both hands through his hair and paced, back and forth, like a caged animal on the edge of snapping.

“God—dammit!” he roared at the ceiling, voice hoarse. “This isn’t how this was supposed to go!”

His boots squeaked against the floor as he spun, gesturing wildly, fury spilling out in half-choked words.

“I did everything right! I stayed out of it! I let LJ fight his own battles! I kept my word to Carter—I said I wouldn’t lay a hand on that piece of shit until the time was right, IF at fucking all!”

He stopped, chest rising and falling like a jackhammer.

“And what the hell did that get me?! Huh?!”

He turned again, eyes glaring upward, his voice cracking as he shouted.

“What did that get them?!”

Silence answered him. No divine justification. No whisper of cosmic fairness. Just the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the cold bite of reality.

He pressed his palms against his face, dragging them down slowly.

Helpless. Useless. Raging at a world that had just made a mockery of his restraint.

Something’s gotta break…

The buzz of his phone in his pocket startled him, piercing through the fog.

Miles blinked, pulled it free, and looked at the screen.

The name staring back at him made his heart stop cold.

He hesitated for half a second—then answered.

“Yeah?”

There was a long pause as the voice on the other end spoke. Miles’ face began to shift—not confusion, not anger.

Something worse.

His entire expression went still.

“…You’re kidding.”

No. They weren’t.

Another pause. A beat longer. Then:

“When?”

He swallowed hard. His other hand slowly curled into a trembling fist at his side.

“Alright… yeah. I’ll be there.”

The line went dead.

Miles lowered the phone from his ear but didn’t put it away. He just stood there, the hallway suddenly feeling colder. Thinner. Like the walls were closing in.

Whatever that call had been, it had just added weight to shoulders already straining under the pressure.

His fingers tightened around the phone until the case cracked under the pressure.

Then, without another word, he turned down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows with heavy footsteps echoing behind him—

—leaving only the wreckage of the moment in his wake.


----

Manchester, England – Two Days Later

The rain hadn't let up.

It wasn’t dramatic or theatrical — just that cold, bone-deep drizzle that soaked into everything, clinging like grief that wouldn’t let go. Manchester always seemed a little gray, but today, it felt hollow. A city missing a heartbeat.

Miles stood at the edge of the chapel steps outside the old stone building, hands deep in the pockets of his black coat, hood pulled up against the chill. The same streets they used to run as teenagers stretched behind him — pubs where they played too loud, alleyways where they dreamed too big, rooftops where they’d screamed at stars they swore were listening.

Todd had been one of his first brothers.

Not blood. But real.

And now he was gone.

Carter was already inside, waiting, sitting near the back to give Miles space. He’d offered to say something for him. Miles had declined. Not because he didn’t appreciate it, but because it had to come from him. Even if he didn’t know what he was going to say.

Truthfully, he hadn’t said much at all since the phone call.

The service was small. Personal. No pomp, no spectacle. Just faces creased with sadness, the quiet ache of too much left unsaid, and the occasional hushed murmur between friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.

Photos of Todd flickered across a projector screen near the altar — laughing, singing, head thrown back like he was daring the world to quiet him down. In every photo, there was a guitar nearby. His old beaten-up acoustic was even sitting on a stand just beside the altar, untouched since the wake began.

Miles hadn’t taken his eyes off it.

When the minister called his name, he stood slowly.

The walk up the aisle was short, but it felt like miles — no pun intended. His fingers twitched in his coat pockets. He could feel every eye in the room settle on him: old friends, Todd’s parents, Carter in the back with his hands folded tight in his lap.

He stepped up behind the microphone.

Paused.

Opened his mouth — and nothing came out.

Just like in Stockholm, just like after the chair, just like every night since this nightmare began… he had nothing.

But then his eyes drifted sideways — to the guitar.

He moved without thinking.

Took it off the stand. Sat on the edge of the small wooden step near the altar. No words. No intro. No warning. Just Miles, hunched slightly forward, fingers curling around wood and string like they used to on late nights and cheap whiskey-fueled songwriting sessions.

He thumbed the strings once. Still in tune.

Then he started to play.

Soft. Gentle. Like he was waking the song up from where it had been sleeping.

“Don’t let this feeling fade…
Like seeing stars in the rain…
It turns out, there’s something beautiful in the pain…”

His voice cracked a little on the second line, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t look up. His fingers moved in rhythm, muscle memory guiding him through the chords that had once belonged to Todd — a song they wrote together but never performed, the kind of melody that was meant to be heard here. Now.

“You gave me light in the dark…
Showed me the shape of my heart…
But I never saw the end before the start…”

The whole room went silent.

The sound of rain tapping against stained glass windows faded into the background. Nothing existed but the voice and the strings.

And the ghost of Todd, who Miles swore was probably leaning somewhere in the back, smirking that lopsided grin like: about bloody time, mate.

“If I could hold you one more time,
I’d tell you you saved my life…
You were the song I didn’t know I was trying to write…”

Miles didn’t cry. Not here. Not while he was playing.

But something in his chest loosened — like the weight was still there, but it didn’t have to crush him anymore.

When the last note faded, he didn’t stand. Didn’t say a word.

He simply set the guitar back down on the stand.

Gave one last look toward the altar photo of Todd, and whispered under his breath, “That one was for you, mate.”

Then he walked back to his seat, where Carter reached out and silently took his hand.

----

The Crown & Anchor Pub
Manchester, England – That Evening

The pint glasses clinked together louder than they needed to. Maybe it was the grief, or maybe it was just Manchester tradition. Either way, the old wood-paneled walls of the Crown & Anchor rang with laughter, memories, and the distant thrum of a jukebox half-drowning in the sound of voices raised with the comfort of familiarity.

It was the kind of place that hadn’t changed in twenty years — same sticky floors, same crack in the mirror behind the bar, same old barkeep who still didn’t trust card payments.

Miles stood by the corner booth, pint in hand, leaning with one shoulder against the wall, laughing at some story Dean was retelling for the fifth time like it had happened yesterday. The boys were there — Tommy, Dean, Marcus, even lanky Liam, all a few years older but just as chaotic.

And next to him, a little more reserved, but still present — was Carter.

He’d kept his hands in his coat pockets most of the night, offering polite nods, quiet smiles, the occasional small laugh. He was letting Miles have this. Letting him breathe.

Eventually, Miles slid an arm around Carter’s waist and leaned in.

“Alright, lads — this here’s Carter. Some of you know him from the telly, some of you probably follow him ‘cause he’s better lookin’ than me. But more important than that... he’s my husband.”

The laughter quieted for a second — not uncomfortably, just in that way where the words landed.

Dean broke it first with a raised glass. “Bloody hell, Miles. You always did punch above your weight.”

Carter chuckled at that, tipping his own glass with a smirk. “He says that now. Wait ‘til he sees me after leg day.”

The table roared.

Even Miles cracked up, leaning his head against Carter’s for a beat before reaching for a chip off the plate between them.

That’s when he showed up.

Danny.

Late, as always, pint in hand, and already a little too loud for the room.

“Well, well, well — if it ain’t the prodigal son. Kasey fuckin’ returns.”

Miles turned, not immediately hostile, but guarded. “Danny.”

Danny smirked like he’d just scored a goal in the last minute. “Didn’t think you’d actually show your face round here again. Thought America had its claws too deep in ya.”

Miles gave a lazy shrug. “They’ve got good food and bad decisions. Felt right at home.”

That got a few more laughs, but Danny wasn’t finished.

He stepped in closer, looking Miles over like he was a museum exhibit.

“You know, mate… you could’ve had any girl back then. Any of ‘em. Half the bloody city fancied you. But nah… you went and came out instead. Pan, right? That what they call it now? Fancy anyone with a pulse?”

The booth went quiet.

Miles didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Just took a sip of his pint.

Danny leaned in a bit more, eyes sliding to Carter with a sneer. “And this is what you ran off to the States for? Him? All that talent, all that fire, and you settled down with—”

“Don’t,” Miles said, voice quiet but cutting.

Danny blinked, confused.

“I mean it,” Miles added, setting his pint down slowly. “You can run your bloody mouth about me all you want. I’ve heard it all. Traitor. Sellout. Whatever name helps you sleep at night.”

He stepped forward, now eye to eye with Danny. Calm. Dead steady.

“But you don’t talk about my husband. Not unless you want to be picking your teeth out of the fuckin’ tile, bruv."

Danny tried to laugh it off, but it wavered at the edges. “Alright, alright. Just havin’ a bit of fun.”

“Yeah? Todd never thought you were funny either.”

That shut Danny up.

Miles didn’t even let the silence settle.

“You remember that? How he used to call you a walking beer stain with a victim complex? How he only ever invited you out ‘cause he felt bad that you peaked in Year Ten?”

Danny’s jaw clenched.

“Take a walk, Daniel,” Miles finished, voice low but final. “Long one. Preferably off a short pier.”

Danny stared for a beat longer, then scoffed, turned, and stomped off toward the bar like a sulking child.

The booth let out a collective breath.

Dean raised his pint again. “So, Carter — how do you put up with this dramatic bastard?”

Carter smiled, leaning in with ease. “You should see him before coffee.”

Everyone laughed again. The mood began to settle, warmth creeping back into the space.

Miles finally sat, brushing his fingers along Carter’s knee under the table — quiet, grounding.

He’d lost Todd.

But tonight, he’d protected what mattered most.

And that, at least, felt like something.

----

The night had turned damp — not quite raining, but the kind of misty drizzle that clung to your clothes and kissed your skin like fog with a grudge. The streets of Manchester were quieter now, the laughter from inside the pub fading into the background as the door swung shut behind them.

Miles exhaled slowly, shoulders finally dropping, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his long coat.

Carter walked beside him in silence, close but not pressing. They’d said their goodbyes. Shook the last hands. Took the last photos. Survived the last awkward glances. Now it was just them again.

“I wish we could stick around,” Miles said quietly, eyes flicking up to the familiar buildings around them. “Wish we had more time.”

Carter looked over. “You’ve been good about this. Better than most would be.”

Miles gave a dry chuckle. “You mean I didn’t bash Danny’s skull in with a pint glass?”

“That would’ve been justified, not necessarily wise.”

“Hmm.” Miles paused on the pavement, looking out across the street like he could see into the past. “Every corner of this city feels like it’s echoing with Todd’s voice. His laugh. His bloody awful fashion sense. And now it’s all just… quiet.”

Carter gently slid a hand into Miles’, fingers interlacing.

Miles squeezed back. “We’ve gotta head back soon. Copenhagen’s calling. You’ve got that big match, and I’m in that fatal fourway. Can’t exactly ghost the whole company just ‘cause my head’s spinning.”

“You could,” Carter said softly. “They’d understand.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t.”

He looked at Carter fully now, eyes darker under the dim streetlight. “If I don’t get back in the ring, if I don’t keep pushing forward… I’ll feel like I’m letting it all go. And I can’t let this be what breaks me. Not again.”

“You’re not broken,” Carter said firmly.

Miles didn’t answer right away. He just looked down at the slick cobblestones beneath their feet. Then back up at Carter. “You help me remember that.”

A beat passed.

Then Carter leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Miles’ cheek.

“You’re allowed to feel all of this. You just don’t have to carry it alone.”

Miles nodded, jaw tight, eyes wet — but not falling. Not tonight.

“Come on, then,” he murmured, tugging Carter gently by the hand. “Let’s get back. We’ve got planes to catch. Rings to conquer.”

“And hearts to break?”

Miles smirked through the ache in his chest. “Only if they’re in the way.”

They walked on into the night — not away from the grief, but forward with it. Together.

-----

The cold in the Royal Arena crept into Miles’ bones, but it wasn’t the sort that came from the weather. It had been there for days now, ever since Stockholm. Ever since he watched LJ crumple under Alex Jones’ boot. Ever since Carter’s body bent wrong around a steel chair. Ever since he stood in the middle of that ring, seething with fury, hands clenched at his sides, and didn’t throw a single punch.

The quiet wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy. A tension wound so tight through his chest it felt like it would snap and tear him apart.

He sat alone in the far corner of the locker room, away from the noise and clamor of the others, his hood pulled low over his brow. The dull hum of lights above cast long shadows, flickering faintly in blue and gold. His gear bag lay open beside him, half-unpacked. A bottle of water in his hand. Untouched.

He didn’t need to warm up. His blood was already boiling.

Miles leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, head tilted down as he stared at the floor beneath his boots. He could still hear Todd’s laugh echo in the back of his mind — the way it used to cut through the smoke of some back alley pub gig or over cheap curry at 2 a.m. They buried him just a few days ago. Miles played their old song with shaking fingers and a throat full of grief, and not one word had come when the vicar asked him to speak.

What could he even say anymore?

He lifted his head slowly, jaw tight, the ache in his chest a hollow thing clawing to get out.

"Sunday night...it’s not just another match."

His voice was rough, quiet at first, but it carried weight — the kind of weight that demanded the air around him to still.

"This… this is the reckoning that has been coming for a long time."

He thought of LJ’s face, bruised and battered. Of Carter, unconscious in his arms. Of every person he couldn’t protect. Every promise he made that had to be swallowed just to keep the peace.

He stood.

The stretch of his spine felt like it might split him open.

He let out a small breath — almost a laugh, but not quite.

"Artie, mate…"

A pause. Not for drama, but because some truths needed a little space to land.

"Do you ever just look at someone and feel like you’re staring into a mirror — not in how you look or sound, but how you hope? That maybe they’re still clinging to some kind of magic in a world that keeps telling us there ain’t any left?"

He shook his head softly, eyes glassy with something that wasn’t weakness — it was knowing. It was experience.

"You’ve got heart, man. Big one. Wear it right on your sleeve. You fight with it. Lead with it. Bleed with it. And people underestimate that, don’t they? Think it makes you soft."

His voice turned into a low growl, protective and real.

"But I know better. I know how dangerous someone is when they’ve still got something left to believe in. Something left to prove. You’re the guy that people bet against… until they’re looking up at the lights, wondering how the hell they lost."

He leaned forward slightly, as if telling Artie this to his face — not with scorn, but with a sort of reluctant admiration.

"And I’ll be honest, part of me hopes it’s you and me standing at the end. Because win or lose, I’d know the match mattered. And Bobbie, love, I’m sorry. That’s all I can say."

He paced now, his boots striking the concrete with measured precision.

"Now you...The Cat"

The smirk faded just as fast.

"I don’t know if it’s an act or if you’ve just lost the thread, mate. I don’t know if you’re here to wrestle, to entertain, or to watch the world laugh at the wreckage you leave behind. But whatever the case, you’ve made a name for yourself on chaos and cleverness and that cat-like grin like nothing in the world touches you."

Miles’ brow furrowed. His voice dropped.

"But what happens when someone does? What happens when the fun stops, when the jokes dry up, and you’re standing across from a man who doesn’t give a damn how many nicknames you’ve got or how many eyes are on you? What happens when the games don’t work?"

He took one slow step forward, imaginary distance closing.

"I’m not here to play with you, Felix. I’m not a punchline or a prop. I’m not here to be your next viral clip or quirky comeback. I’m here to fight. And in that ring, I don’t care how many lives you think you’ve got left… I’ll take every single one of them, one blow at a time."

He stopped in front of a long mirror bolted to the wall, stared at the reflection staring back. Pale eyes rimmed in sleeplessness. Stubble creeping down a sharp jaw. The look of someone who’d walked through the fire and hadn’t decided whether to stop burning.

“Connor Murphy,” he murmured. “Now you... you’re different.”

He started pacing again, slower now, each step deliberate. Thoughtful.

“You’re not just here for gold. Or spotlight. Or to say you made it through another match without cracking. You’re here because you need this. Because violence — pain — it’s a language you speak better than most. And for a while, I think I understand that. That rage that lives just under the surface, always scratching to get out. Like if you can just hit someone hard enough, loud enough, long enough… maybe it’ll quiet everything else inside.”

His voice dropped low, intimate, like he was confiding a truth to no one in particular.

“I see it in your eyes, mate. That chaos. That itch. You’re not in this match to win. You’re in it to break something. To test just how far you can go before something gives way — and maybe, deep down, you hope that something is you.”

Miles stopped, letting the silence sink in.

“But here’s the thing…”

He looked up, eyes steely and burning with a deeper fire.

“You’re not the only one who’s danced that line. I’ve sat in dark rooms with blood on my knuckles and nothing but ghosts in my ears. I’ve walked out on everything I thought I was and built myself again from the ashes. So if you think I’m gonna be the stepping stone for your spiral, Connor — if you think I’m the guy who’s gonna fold under that wild, rabid energy you thrive in…”

Miles stepped forward, into an imagined spotlight, that metaphorical ring already alive beneath his boots.

“…Then you’re about to find out just how far down I’m willing to go to make sure you don’t get up.”

His fists clenched, his shoulders rising with the slow tide of breath pushing against his ribs. No bravado. No shouting. Just truth — raw and sharp.

“You wanna be chaos? I am the storm, Murphy. Let’s see who’s still breathing when the sky clears.”

He exhaled slowly.

Then let the silence stretch.

Miles stepped back from the mirror, rolled his shoulders, and pulled the hood down. His blond hair clung to his brow, sweat already starting to bead from the heat building in his chest.

"This match... it’s not about revenge. It’s not about Carter. Or LJ. Or even Todd."

His voice cracked — just once — before he caught it.

"It’s about reminding myself I’m still here. That I’ve still got something left to give. That all of this pain… all of this fire… isn’t for nothing."

His gaze turned toward the hallway, where the muffled sound of the crowd echoed just beyond.

"Kevin Carter, I hope you’re watching, bruv. Because I’m coming to Paris. And I’m not bringing apologies. I’m bringing purpose. And don’t think for one iota of a second that I have forgotten what you did to get that Internet Championship."

He turned and grabbed his jacket from the bench — blue and gold, the hood stitched sharp like a wolf's snarl — and slung it over his shoulders like armor.

"This is Miles bloody Kasey. And I’m walking through this Clusterf**k and straight into destiny."

He took one final breath, deep and ragged, then stepped into the corridor as the light behind him dimmed.

And for the first time in weeks, the storm inside him finally had direction.

A Sight At The Towers
Turnberry Towers, Las Vegas

Miles stepped through the sliding doors of the Turnberry Towers lobby, the familiar scent of polished marble and subtle air fresheners greeting him. His gym bag was slung over his shoulder, a parcel from the post office tucked under his arm. Just as he was adjusting his grip, a familiar voice called out.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Miles turned his head and grinned at Kristjan Baltasarsson, his best friend—better known to most as Fenris. K leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Back from a workout and a mail run? Productive day, I see."

Miles chuckled, shifting his bag. "You know me, always on the move. What about you?"

Kristjan pushed off the wall, nodding toward the elevators. "Same old. About to head to Go myself, but got a later start so I didn’t run into that idiot Logan. I know Gabriel frowns upon seriously maiming the students, but I may kill that poor bastard if you don’t shut him up.”

“I seem to think there is a line forming for a chance at not just him but his girlfriend as well. Ally was ready to eat glass after what happened.” Miles sighed, “But don’t worry, mate. I’ll leave a little bit for ya if LJ doesn’t beat you to the punch.”

“You think your little brother isn’t done with him yet?” K asked with a raise of the eyebrow.

That caused Miles to smile and laugh, “Oh I know he’s not. But for now, Logan is gonna have his hands full with me and I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into that damn Elimination Chamber.”

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.” K smirks before he nods back, “By the way, get this—someone’s finally moving into the condo above you and Carter."

Miles blinked. That particular condo had been vacant for months, ever since its former occupant—a woman whose obsessive hatred had led to Carter being attacked—was sentenced to prison. Her entire family had been a nightmare, and Miles had hoped never to deal with them again.

"Really? Who’s the unlucky soul moving in?" he asked, half-joking.

Kristjan's smirk widened. "A woman. Bubbly. Think that busty blonde from that Legally Blonde movie that Bella made us sit through, but not as ditzy. And definitely more flirtatious."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Great. That’s exactly what we all need. I will say that will be better than constantly being threatened or harassed."

Kristjan chuckled. "Have you met her yet?"

"I have not had that privilege...yet."

Just as the words left his mouth, the automatic doors slid open again, and a woman strutted in, leading a team of movers through the lobby. Instead of using the basement entrance like most residents did, she directed the men through the main hall as if she owned the place. There was a confidence in the way she carried herself—effortless, charming, and completely unbothered by the attention she was drawing.

Kristjan nudged Miles, amused. "And there she is. Quite the entrance, huh?"

Miles stifled a laugh, watching the spectacle unfold. The woman, blonde and stylish, radiated an almost theatrical energy as she gave the movers directions with exaggerated gestures. Other residents in the lobby stole curious glances, clearly entertained by the show.

"Looks like she’s going to be... interesting," Miles muttered.

Kristjan smirked. "No doubt. I will say that that’s not why I was glad to run into you. I wanted to talk to you."

Miles turned back to him, curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

Kristjan folded his arms again. "The kid. Karen’s oldest. Keith."

Miles' expression tightened. He hadn't expected this. "What about him?"

"You saw him, didn’t you? A few weeks ago, when you and Carter were out?"

Miles exhaled. "Yeah. Just for a moment, he attempted to snatch my wallet, I caught up to him. Since then, I’ve tried finding him, but no luck."

Kristjan gave him a pointed look. "Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Ever think of that?"

Miles rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. But it doesn’t sit right with me."

Kristjan sighed, his expression softening. "Look, I get it. But you, of all people, should know how this works. Remember when you were on the streets? You didn’t want people tracking you down, either. You told me yourself, if it wasn’t for your sister constantly making sure you didn’t get into trouble that you probably would have remained an-"

“Insufferable tosspot? Yeah...I’m aware.” Miles frowned. He didn’t like being reminded of that part of his past, but Kristjan wasn’t wrong. Memories stirred—nights spent evading anyone who might try to reel him in, the paranoia of being seen by the wrong person, the raw independence that came with survival. Keith might be thinking the same way.

"So what do you suggest?"

Kristjan shrugged. "Maybe if you want to find out what’s going on, you need to remember who you used to be."

Miles let that sink in, his thoughts turning to the past he’d left behind. He had worked so hard to build something new, something stable. But if Keith really was in trouble, then maybe Kristjan was right. Maybe he needed to stop looking from the outside in and start thinking like the kid he used to be.

A sudden loud noise snapped them both out of the moment when the new neighbor’s voice lifted over the entire lobby, “BE CAREFUL!!! That is a priceless heirloom that I bought 3 years ago from World’s Market!”

The two men look at one another for a moment and mouth the words “World Market” before they continue to watch the whole scene unfold in front of them.

“As much as I wanna go to the gym...”

“It’s like a traffic accident you just can’t help but watch.”


Love is Not A Trap
Valentine’s Day Night

Miles stood in the middle of their condo, adjusting the last of the decorations. The entire space had been transformed—candles flickered across the tables, rose petals were scattered strategically, and soft music played in the background and of course in the middle of the table for Carter was his absolute favorite flowers, something that Miles made sure he would get for him over the last 3 Valentine Days. He tugged at the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket, ensuring everything was perfect.

Carter had insisted he was fine staying in with pizza and a movie. But Miles knew better. After losing the SCW Internet Championship, Carter deserved something special, and it was their first Valentine’s Day as a married couple. That had to count for something.

As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, the front door opened. Miles turned just in time to see Carter walk in, arms full—with pizza boxes and, to Miles' amusement, a few decorations of his own. Carter stopped short, his mouth parting slightly as he took in the scene.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Carter muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I was gonna do this!"

Miles grinned. "Too slow, babe. Though it’s not nearly as full on out as our first Valentine’s Day where I was running all over town at the literal 11th hour because the weather screwed up every inch of my plans, I figured we would go out but I see you were actually serious about staying in for the movie and pizza."

Carter let out a laugh, setting the pizza down on the counter and looking over at the flowers. He walked over and stared in amazement that this man to this day never forgot how much he loved them, "You never do anything halfway, do you?"

Miles walked over, sliding his arms around Carter’s waist and placed a simple kiss on the side of his husband’s head. "Not when it comes to you."

Carter turned around and looked up at him, the initial frustration melting into something softer. "You’re ridiculous."

"You deserve it and you love it."

Carter sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."

Miles leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Carter’s lips. "Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Kasey-McKinney."

Carter smiled against his lips. "Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. McKinney-Kasey."



Oh we’re gonna be seeing Red on Sunday for sure

Later that night, long after dinner, long after everyone else had settled in, Miles stood alone on the balcony, a glass of red wine in hand that he hadn’t even bothered to sip. The Las Vegas skyline stretched before him, the neon glow flickering like a heartbeat in the distance.

But he wasn’t seeing the city.

He was seeing him.

Logan Hunter.

The name alone made Miles' blood boil, his grip tightening around the glass until he was seconds away from shattering it in his hand. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tight as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

"You son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, voice laced with pure, undiluted venom. "You really thought you could do that to my brother and walk away like nothing happened, didn’t you? You really thought that this—all of this—was just business as usual. Another day, another body left in your wake."

He let out a slow, humorless chuckle, but there was no amusement in it—just pure, simmering rage waiting to erupt.

"You’re a piece of shit, Logan. You always have been. A leech. A parasite feeding off the pain of others because deep down, you know you can’t stand on your own. You can’t win a fight straight up, so you blindside people. You take cheap shots. You damn near end careers because that’s the only way you can make a name for yourself. But let me ask you something, Logan—when has that ever worked out for guys like you? Huh? When has it ever ended well for the little coward who thinks they’re untouchable?"

Miles scoffed, shaking his head. His fingers drummed against the railing, the only thing keeping him from putting his fist through the wall.

"You really thought you could get away with it, huh? That no one was gonna step up and put you in your place? That no one was gonna stop you?" His voice dropped lower, the threat in his tone unmistakable. "You got one thing right—nobody did. Nobody had the balls to check you. Not management. Not the locker room. Not anyone. They all let you get away with it. They all let you run around like a rabid dog while my brother was left lying in a hospital bed, stitched up and bloodied, all because you don’t know when to stop."

His nostrils flared as his grip tightened on the railing, his body vibrating with anger. "But here’s the thing, Logan—you fucked up. Because you may have gotten away with it before, but I’m here now. And if you think for one second that I’m gonna let this slide, that I’m gonna sit back and watch you do to someone else what you did to LJ? Then you’re even dumber than you look."

He turned, eyes burning with fury as he pointed toward the horizon, as if Logan were standing right in front of him.

"You’re done, Logan. Done. No more sneak attacks. No more unchecked rampages. No more acting like you’re some unstoppable force when all you are is a scared little boy hiding behind cheap shots and steel chairs. You want violence? I am violence. You want to hurt people? Then try that shit with me. I dare you. No warnings. No mercy. No way out. You wanted to be a monster? Then let me introduce you to the thing that monsters fear."

He finally took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, his pulse still thundering in his ears.

"Someone should’ve put you down a long time ago. Looks like it’s up to me."

He knocked back the entire glass of wine, slamming it onto the railing with a clink.

Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.

After the Fall
Backstage after High Stakes

The roar of the crowd fades into an almost eerie quiet as Miles Kasey walks backstage, each step heavier than the last. His body is screaming in pain, every muscle and bone reminding him of the battle he just endured. His ribs ache with every breath, his vision still blurry from the strikes he took, and yet, none of it compares to the ache inside him.

The ache of being so close to the dream.

He reaches the first wall he sees and leans back against it, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. His head falls into his hands, elbows propped on his knees, and he exhales a long, shaky breath. The adrenaline is wearing off now, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion—and that gnawing feeling of almost.

The fluorescent lights above hum faintly, a quiet counterpoint to the turmoil in his head. He replays the match in flashes: the cheers of the crowd, the sting of every hit, the euphoria of thinking he had it—only for it to slip away in the end. Miles had come within inches of holding that SCW World Championship. Inches. And now, the title belongs to someone else.

He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His heart tells him he left it all out there, gave more of himself than he ever thought possible. But his mind whispers that it still wasn’t enough.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters under his breath again, the words almost instinctive now as they carry both exhaustion and a tinge of regret. He pauses mid-step, leaning against the cool wall again, his breath ragged. “So close.”

A concerned voice breaks through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. “Hey, Miles... You good? You sure you don’t need a trainer?”

He lifts his head, offering the staffer a tired but genuine wave. “Yeah. I’m good.” He straightens, despite his body’s protests, a surge of resolve coursing through him. “Better than good.”

And with that, Miles pushes forward, the sting of the loss still fresh, but the fire inside him burning hotter than ever. This wasn’t the end of the story. This wasn’t defeat. This was evolution.

Miles doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching at first. It isn’t until a shadow falls over him that he glances up, his tired eyes meeting the concerned gaze of the one person who can break through the fog in his mind.

Carter.

Helluva Bottom Carter stands there, still dressed in street clothes from watching the match earlier. His usually bright, playful demeanor is subdued now, his brows furrowed as he takes in the sight of his husband sitting on the floor, beaten and broken—not just physically, but emotionally.

“Miles…” Carter’s voice is soft, yet it carries a weight that Miles feels in his chest.

“I’m fine,” Miles says quickly, though the crack in his voice betrays the words. He looks away, trying to compose himself, but Carter doesn’t buy it.

“Bullshit,” Carter replies bluntly, dropping down to sit beside him on the floor. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

Miles exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I was so close, Carter,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So goddamn close. And now…”

“And now, what?” Carter interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. “You think this is the end? That you’re not good enough? Because if that’s what you’re telling yourself, then you didn’t hear what I heard out there.”

Miles doesn’t answer, his jaw tightening as he stares at the floor.

“I heard them, Miles,” Carter continues, leaning closer. “That crowd wasn’t just cheering for a great match—they were cheering for you. They saw what I’ve always seen. That you belong up there. That you’re not just good—you’re one of the best.”

Miles finally looks at him, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “But I didn’t win,” he says, his voice breaking on the last word. “I gave everything I had, and it still wasn’t enough.”

Carter reaches out, placing a hand on the side of Miles’ face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Listen to me, Miles Kasey. Winning isn’t the only thing that proves you’re worthy. What you did out there tonight? That proved it. You stood toe-to-toe with the best in the world and showed them you belong. That doesn’t go away just because the match didn’t end the way you wanted.”

Miles closes his eyes, leaning into Carter’s touch as the words sink in. He wants to believe them. God, he wants to believe them.

Carter shifts closer, wrapping an arm around Miles’ shoulders and pulling him into his chest. “You’re allowed to feel this, babe,” he murmurs, his voice soft now. “You’re allowed to be upset. But don’t you dare think for a second that you failed. You didn’t. Not to me. Not to anyone who matters.”

For a moment, Miles lets himself be held, the weight of the night finally catching up to him. He buries his face in Carter’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around his husband as he exhales a shaky breath. The tears come then—silent but cathartic—as Carter holds him tighter, his hand running gently through Miles’ curly blonde hair.

“I’m proud of you,” Carter says, his voice steady and unwavering. “I’ve always been proud of you. And tonight? You showed the whole goddamn world why.”

Miles doesn’t respond right away, letting the words wash over him. Eventually, he pulls back slightly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re too good to me, you know that? Could easily give a man a complex,” he says, his voice still raw but lighter now.

Carter smirks, his trademark humor returning. “Duh. But it’s only for you and just you.” He winks, earning a tired laugh from Miles.

Miles shakes his head, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, his eyes meeting Carter’s. “For always being here. For… everything.”

“Always,” Carter replies, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Miles’ forehead. “Now, come on. Let’s get you out of here before someone decides to turn you into a meme.”

Miles chuckles, the tension in his chest easing as he allows Carter to help him to his feet. His body protests every movement, but with Carter’s arm around his waist, the weight feels lighter. Together, they make their way down the hallway, the echoes of the arena fading into the background.

Miles may not have won tonight, but with Carter by his side, he knows he hasn’t lost either.


The First Step: Giving Myself A Complex
Dr. Gail Delacore’s Office, Las Vegas

The hum of Las Vegas still lingered in the background, even from the 15th floor of the high-rise building where Dr. Gail Delacore’s office was located. It was faint but persistent—a reminder of the city’s 24/7 pulse. Yet inside the office, the world seemed to slow down. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the Las Vegas Strip, but the room’s soft beige tones, neatly arranged bookshelves, and comfortable seating were deliberately designed to contrast the chaos outside.

Miles Kasey sat in one of the armchairs near the window, his back to the view. The soft leather creaked as he shifted, his hands clasped tightly together. He’d spent the last five minutes trying not to fidget, his eyes darting around the office instead of meeting Dr. Delacore’s.

The door opened quietly, and in walked Dr. Gail Delacore. She exuded a sense of calm and professionalism, her honey-blonde hair tied back in a loose bun. Dressed in a tailored navy blazer and slacks, she carried a small notebook in one hand, her pen tucked neatly behind her ear.

“Miles,” she greeted warmly, closing the door behind her. “It’s good to see you again.”

Miles managed a half-smile, sitting up a little straighter. “Hey, Doc. It’s… been a while.”

“Since the pre-marriage counseling, yes,” she replied with a small smile, taking the chair across from him. “How’s married life treating you?”

“Fantastic, despite him sending all my Christmas presents to his mum and grams. And as you know Carter’s great,” he said automatically, though there was an edge to his tone. “This isn’t about him, though.”

Dr. Delacore nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “Then let’s focus on you. What brings you here today?”

Miles hesitated, his jaw tightening. He hadn’t been sure how to articulate what he was feeling when he’d booked the appointment, and now that he was here, the words still felt tangled in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I guess… I feel like I’m falling apart, professionally.”

She nodded, her expression open and inviting. “Can you tell me more about that?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared down at the carpet. “I put everything on the line for a title shot. I burned bridges. Actually I took a flame thrower to the fucker and didn’t turn back. I turned my back on people who cared about me—people I cared about—because I thought it was worth it. And now…” He trailed off, his voice tightening. “Now, I’ve got nothing to show for it. No title. No win. Just a pile of regrets and a target on my back.”

Dr. Delacore watched him carefully, giving him space to continue. When he didn’t, she spoke gently. “You mentioned burning bridges. Who comes to mind when you say that?”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Finn Whelan. He was… I don’t even know how to describe it. A friend. A mentor, maybe? He helped me when I needed it, he took me in when I needed to escape a very bad moment in my life and gave me opportunities I didn’t deserve. And I threw it all away.”

“For the title shot?” she asked, her tone free of judgment.

“Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “I knew what I was doing when I made that choice. I knew it would cost me. I just didn’t think it would… hurt this much, you know?”

Dr. Delacore nodded, jotting something down in her notebook. “It sounds like you’re carrying a lot of guilt over that decision.”

“Of course I am,” he said, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” she interjected gently. “This is a safe space, Miles. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I just… I thought it would be worth it. That it would make everything make sense, you know? And I don’t fucking regret it and that’s the insane part of it. But now it just feels like I lost more than I gained.”

“And you mentioned feeling like you have a target on your back,” she prompted.

Miles laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Yeah, Alex Jones. The guy who kicked me in the face when I tried to help Carter at ringside. I can almost guarantee that he is coming for me now. And I don’t blame him, honestly. I’d be pissed, too, if I were him. But it’s just… one more thing, you know? One more person gunning for me because of the choices I made.”

Dr. Delacore studied him for a moment before speaking. “Miles, it sounds like you’re carrying a lot of weight—guilt, regret, fear of what’s coming next. Have you allowed yourself to process any of it, or have you been pushing it down and focusing on what’s ahead?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t have time to process it. I’ve got Alex breathing down my neck, and Finn’s not exactly going to forgive me anytime soon. I don’t get to feel sorry for myself. I just… have to keep going.”

She leaned forward slightly, her tone soft but firm. “Miles, processing what you’re feeling isn’t about feeling sorry for yourself. It’s about understanding why you’re feeling this way, so you can move forward in a way that’s healthy and sustainable. You can’t keep carrying all of this without addressing it—it’ll only weigh you down more.”

He looked at her, his blue eyes filled with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “What if I can’t?”

“You can,” she said simply. “But you don’t have to do it all at once. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Miles swallowed hard, her words cutting through the fog of his thoughts. He wanted to believe her, to believe that this wasn’t the end of the line for him. That there was a way to make things right—or at least, to make peace with what he’d done.

“Thanks, Doc,” he said after a long pause, his voice steadier.

She smiled warmly. “That’s what I’m here for. And Miles?”

“Yeah?”

“Be kind to yourself. You’ve made mistakes, yes. But mistakes don’t define you. What you do next—that’s what matters.”

He nodded slowly, standing to leave. Outside the window, the neon lights of the Strip gleamed against the darkening sky. For the first time in weeks, Miles felt like he could breathe a little easier.

“And, personally I think you have something that we should continue to work on. I know the holidays are coming up, so- let’s plan on something regular after the New Year, okay? I really am intrigued by this and I feel like I could help you through a lot of things.”

Miles smirked and nodded, “Carter kept saying that I should have done this a while ago.”

“Well, as we find out on a regular basis, Carter is rarely ever wrong.” Dr. Delacore joked, “But I think you being with him has brought him a long way. You may have given up something for you to plant yourself where people said you needed to be, but there is always one constant Miles, and that is Carter. He is your biggest supporter and fan, as I’ve been learning.”


The Weight of the Glass Ceiling
Turnberry Towers, Las Vegas.
Late Evening.

The soft hum of the city buzzed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Turnberry Towers condo. The view of the Las Vegas Strip sprawled out below was as dazzling as ever, but Miles wasn’t paying it any attention. The bright lights felt more like a reminder of his failures than the promise of opportunity they once symbolized.

The living room was dimly lit, save for a single lamp near the couch and the glow of the cityscape. Miles sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, his back against the couch, earbuds in, scrolling through his playlist. Carter was fast asleep in the bedroom, exhausted from a long week of commitments, but Miles couldn't bring himself to join him. Not tonight. Not with the match looming over him.

The soft piano intro of "Get It Right" began to play, and Miles let the music consume him.

"What can you do when your good isn’t good enough…"

He closed his eyes as Lea Michele’s voice carried the weight of the words he didn’t dare say out loud. The lyrics stung, cutting straight through him.

Ok so his Spotify Playlist was always questionable, but dammit the woman could sing...and that show kicked ass.

He had put everything on the line. His title shot, his friendship with Finn, even his integrity. And for what? To lose?

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as the words kept coming.

"Cause I’ve tried, tried to do it right… but it’s not enough this time."

Miles ran a hand through his hair, his chest tightening with the weight of it all. He’d sacrificed so much to climb to where he was now. And yet, Finn was still holding the gold, and Miles? Miles was back at square one, but with even fewer allies than before.

And now there was Alex Jones.

Miles didn’t need to look up at the framed championship photo of Carter in the area that they both created of both of their achievements, but the latest one that they added on the wall to remind himself of what was at stake. Carter’s Internet Championship had become a symbol of everything Miles wanted to achieve in his own way, but the road he was traveling seemed littered with roadblocks. Finn. Alex. Wolfslair. They all stood on top of the glass ceiling he was still struggling to punch through.

Alex Jones wasn’t just another roadblock, though. He was a legend. A former World Champion. The leader of Wolfslair. And for some reason, he was intent on turning up the heat, as if Miles hadn’t already been burning himself out just to stay afloat.

Alex. Finn. Kayla. All of them were part of this unspoken hierarchy that Miles was expected to bow to.

But he wasn’t going to bow. Not anymore.

"I'm not gonna stop. That's who I am. I'll give it all I got, that is my plan…"

The next song kicked in, and suddenly Miles’ chest felt lighter. "Loser Like Me" wasn’t just a song—it was a mantra. A smile tugged at his lips as he mouthed the lyrics.

Miles pushed himself up from the floor, his heart pounding in time with the beat. He walked toward the window and placed his hands on the glass, staring down at the lights of the Strip below.

“Go ahead, Alex,” he muttered under his breath. “Laugh. Underestimate me. Call me a loser. I’ve heard it all before.”

His reflection stared back at him, defiant and determined.

“You think I don’t belong? You think you’re better than me because you’ve been there, done that? Fine. But this loser’s not going anywhere. I’m not going to stop, Alex. You can keep standing on that glass ceiling all you want, but I’m going to keep punching until it breaks.”

His voice was low but steady, filled with a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there earlier. The music blaring in his ears fueled him, and for the first time in days, he didn’t feel like he was drowning.

“I heard once, someone told me once that success isn’t about who gets there first—it’s about who stays there. And I’m going to get there. I don’t care how many Alex Joneses or Finn Whelans stand in my way.”

He turned away from the window and grabbed his phone. The playlist was still going, and the familiar chorus of "Loser Like Me" filled the room as Miles began pacing.

“This match isn’t just another step. It will be a statement. The mighty leader of Wolfslair, a former World Champion, and a legend in SCW, but I know something Alex doesn’t: I am not afraid to lose anymore. Losing has taught me about resilience. It taught me to stand up after being knocked down. And now? Now it was teaching him to fight with everything that I have.”

He pressed pause on the music and slipped the earbuds out, tossing them onto the coffee table. The weight in his chest was still there, but it felt different now. Lighter. Manageable.

This wasn’t just about proving himself to Alex or Wolfslair. It wasn’t even about Finn or the championship anymore. This was about Miles finally stepping into his own spotlight and refusing to let anyone push him back into the shadows.

“You now don’t have a choice, do ya Alex?” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You are being forced just like I was forced to punch against the ceiling. And it has pissed you and the crew off....Well Good. But you’d better bring everything you’ve got. Because I’m done holding back. And when the dust settles, we’ll see who the real loser is.”

With that, Miles turned off the lights and headed to bed. He wasn’t running on empty anymore. The fire in his chest was back, and it was burning brighter than ever.

Tomorrow was another day, and Alex Jones was just another obstacle. Miles was ready to punch his way through.

Those Closest to Paradise As One Can Get
French Polynesia

It’s hard to put into words the excitement that the newlyweds felt the minute they landed and stepped foot onto the ground at the Faa’a International Airport. But Miles and Carter couldn’t wait to find out, as soon as the Princess took dock and they could escape from the masses aboard.

Not that Summer Xxxtreme wasn’t its usual blast and very successful for at least one of them, but after work was done, they were ready for what would be the last stop on their honeymoon following getting married back in late July before they had to board. The week leading up was a working honeymoon but now it was time for play. It was the port straight to LAX and a non-stop flight from there to Tahiti.

Miles couldn’t help it, he smiled the whole flight. Carter kept watching the expansive scenery of blue water the whole way as if he was willing for the plane to go faster.

But that first step into Tahiti had dropped both of their jaws when they just looked around.

“The pictures we saw online did not do this justice.” he heard Carter say as he pulled his phone out and immediately began taking all kinds of pictures, “I can’t believe we’re going to spend the better part of the next two weeks here.”

“And this is just the beginning, my love.” Miles smiled, as he finished loading all the luggage onto a cart. He turns around to see Carter just snapping more and more, “You keep that up and you’re gonna run out of space before we even get to our first room.”

“I don’t want to miss anything though. I want to commit it all to memory.” Carter pouts.

Miles just shakes his head and laughs, “Well then you need to put away your phone, but before you do, spin that picture around.”

Carter looks back at Miles who is standing behind him glancing at the shots he has taken so far, “Why?”

“Trust me, will ya? We are married now after all.”

Carter pulled the camera back up and spun it facing forward and just as Carter went to snap the picture of the two of them with the scenery in the background, Miles turned his head ever so slightly and laid a kiss on Carter’s cheek and the picture that followed was one for the memory books.

Some would think that honeymoons are meant to be spent cooped up in a room and nothing else. Some of those people are idiotic. French Polynesia should be on everyone’s bucket list and the list that both of them created kept them plenty busy. From sight-seeing to just a relaxing day, they made sure not to waste one moment.

And yes plenty of pictures were taken with the reminder that sometimes seeing it with the naked eye made the best memories, and what made it even better, they promised each other to not stay yoked to their phones and spend their time together.

It was a dreary day at one point, so there would be no beach visit on that day with the storms off in the distance. By this point in their travels they had reached Bora Bora and made themselves comfortable in a villa over the water. By that point the word had gotten out about the first card back from the break and Ally had messaged him just to check in, he didn’t really wanna bring work into what was supposed to be a vacation but alas, work came to him.

Thankfully they brought the laptop and Miles decided to take just a few moments to catch up things, and call her via video message.

After a few dulcet tones of a video call, she finally picked up, “Miles! This is a surprise.”

Miles waved, he knew...he just didn’t wanna really bring that out in the open just yet, but her hair was a dead giveaway and he also knew his brother hadn’t been back to Vegas since after the cruise, “Hey, Ally. Hope I’m not disturbing anything.”

“No! Not at all, just getting ready for bed here. How’s the honeymoon?”

“It’s absolutely fantastic. This whole damn place needs to be on everyone’s list to visit and I’m already trying to figure out when we can come back here.” he smirked, “Hell I’ve even got a tan.”

Ally laughed, “Carter too, I’m sure. Where is your hubs?”

“Shower at the moment, we’re going to try and run between the raindrops for dinner here soon.” Miles shook his head, he was going to have to rip this band-aid sooner rather than later, “I wanted to give you a call and make sure that you are doing alright after everything following what happened on the cruise. And I do mean, everything.”

“Miles, you are sweet.”

“And worried. I know we have both had a rough go as of late but I want this next cycle for you and I to be different and we have been handed an amazing opportunity here, something that we have tripped up about a few different times.”

“And I get that, it’s been mostly my fault.”

From Miles lips we hear a big sound of what you would hear on a game show if you got a wrong answer, “Try again, Ms. Callaway. We both fucked some shit up on the royal the last few times. Some on you, and a lot on me. But Ally, we have a lot of assholes to prove wrong.”

“So you are trusting me?”

“I am trusting you. Now, do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Miles.” Ally said without hesitation, “Have I ever given you reason not to?”

“No, you haven’t.” he hears the shower turn off, “Ok, I’m pretty sure Carter is about to come out here sans towel, so I’m going to let you go. We’ll catch up when we both reach Tokyo and we’ll fully plan to take the Barnharts to school. Tell my brother I said hello.”

“I wi- I mean, what do you mean?”

“Ally, I may be in the whole newlywed blissful wedding situation but I’m still occasionally checking my twitter. That and I know for a fact that LJ has been sticking close.”

“How did you-?”

“I have my ways, my dear. We’ll have to have a talk later, I must go but Ally...be careful.”

“I am, I promise.”


I am so sick and tired of Barnhart being an absolute thorn in my arse.

That is the absolute best way to put it.

Billy boi has been up on twitter claiming that the victory is well in the bag when Bill has yet to realize that there is something beyond the Roulette Division and keeping his balls tucked safely in the purse of his wife Bea.

I have been wracking my brain for a while, trying to remember when either of the Barnharts actually matters in the world of SCW beyond being the punching bag for everyone in the Roulette Division. But now they are back at trying to get this whole Mixed Tag Division thing and honestly I can’t wait to punch Bill in that big fat face of his because well honestly, he deserves it.

You’re right Bill.

It’s gonna be fun.

When I whoop your ass once and for all.

Have you read Carter’s yet? ...if you haven’t, you should before you move on....

“Miles, how does all of this make you feel?”

“Well, I will say that how LJ showed up wasn't exactly ideal.”

“Ideal? Miles, he had a whole week before and even after that he could have said ‘By the way, I’m that brother you were told about.’ But he didn’t. I can’t help but feel that there is something else we are missing and I don’t know. Maybe I am being paranoid about the whole damn thing.”

“No, you’re not being paranoid, babe. I agree that the timing of the whole damn situation isn’t exactly perfect in any way.” Miles sighed, running his hand over his face and looking around, “One day it was just me and Brianna and then the next thing I know we have this kid, barely out of uni, showing up and it’s suddenly we have a little brother that our father had no issues bringing into the world. A father, I might add that has done an absolutely spectacular job leaving a massive trail of fuck ups, one after another, yours truly included.”

And before either Carter or the doc can get a word in edgewise...

“And before you go and say that I’m not, I have a laundry list of proof that I am. But it’s because I know exactly the bullshit that dear ole da left behind that is a trail that is on fire...It’s why I have tried to spend time with him, because I don’t know what to make of it either.” Miles just shrugged, “I’ve had to learn by just going with it. I’ve had people come and go in my life so often, that either they are there or they’re not. To find out that out of nowhere I have a little brother, that Brianna has a little brother...”

“I take it Brianna is your twin sister?”

“Yeah, and she is about as suspicious of him as he is. I can’t even begin to explain the whole Ally situation either. Alexandra has had to also plow her way through a briar patch of psychos herself, and I can’t explain what is going on between those two, but sometimes you can’t stop attraction.”

Miles sits back and is trying to just process the whole thing.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Carter quietly spoke out after a few ticks of silence.

“Carter-” Dr. Delacore goes to say but Miles sits up and looks at his fiance.

“No. Sorry doc, didn’t mean to cut you off there.” She nods and motions Miles continues on, “-but, babe, that’s the idea behind this right? Getting things out like this before we get married because we don’t want anything to blow up our relationship. LJ, as he likes to be called, because he doesn’t think too highly of the sperm donor of our lives, is a part of that. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m just trying to get to know him and I don’t know any other way. I mean, Doc what would you do if I were in my place?”

“I wish I could tell you. It seems like your hands were almost tied in a way.”

Miles looks at Carter and motions as to say ‘see?’ before he somewhat smirks and in an almost comedy of errors Miles accepts that this is their life, “That’s one way to put it. And he and Ally aren’t all over each other, he posts shit on twitter or x or whatever the hell you call it, she fawns over it, they flirt, it goes silent for a few days.”

“Maybe they’ve moved it to private messaging since he slyly gave her his phone number.” Carter laughed out.

“I missed that, when did that happen?”

“Rumor has it, when you were off with Ally’s kid.”

“Dammit, I miss everything sometimes. Apparently I miss how you’re really feeling about my brother, and one of my close friends.” you can see how Miles feels like a fool for even missing this.

“Well that’s what these sessions are all about, Miles. I can tell you’ve never really dug too deep into your relationships like this before?”

“Can’t say I really have. With Carter, I encouraged this even when he felt like he needed to keep it from me that he was seeing you after everything that happened with his ex. It’s actually refreshing to be completely and openly honest with someone that I love. Of course, I don’t think that I’ve ever felt like this with anyone else, hence the ring on his finger that I’m looking to add to.”

“I take it they were nothing like this?”

“There has never been anything like this in my life until a year and almost a half ago. The reason I said something about Ally flirting with me is because I’m pansexual. I’ve had different types of relationships, some long term, some not so long term. The last relationship I was in, I spent most of the time getting gaslit and made to feel guilty that we both had professions that kept us busy. I felt so low before I just walked away.”

Miles looks at Carter, and takes his hand.

“I don’t want that for us and it’s why I don’t mind taking the punches to the gut with these sessions.”

“Well I think that’s the best way to end this then.”

“Wow, already?” Miles said out loud.

“Sometimes that’s how these things go. But like I said, we’ll have a few more of these before the big day. So, same time, next week?”

“I think,” Carter says before looking to Miles and he just nods, “I think so.”

“And maybe I should start thinking about doing some solo sessions of my own,” Miles said with a big breath, “Apparently, I have things I need to work through too.”

“Well that can all be made with my secretary on your way out. I look forward to seeing you both again soon.” she said holding the door open, before she stops them both, “This was a good start, both of you.”


Several Things To Say

“I do not want to do this.”

It’s a simple view.

Miles in that large overstuffed chair that he refused to get rid of when they had decided to redo the entire condo that our boys call home. It was the only thing that really stayed beyond their personal possessions, in the way of furniture. It was one of the first things Miles had actually bought when he moved in back in early January 2023. It was an ugly colour but it’s comfortable enough that he was able to convince Carter to let him keep it.

Even out in the open of the living space, which was a major accomplishment in of itself.

But Miles sat in it, he had turned it so he could look out of of one of the massive ceiling to floor windows where they had an absolutely amazing view of the desert landscape of Las Vegas. It was super early in the morning and even Kristjan hadn’t come banging on his door yet for one of their early morning runs yet.

You see, Miles hadn’t really been sleeping all that well lately...again...especially when the show’s rundown got out and no matter how hard he had tried to put a positive spin on it, there was nothing positive about some bitch trying to force Miles and Carter to knock each other out.

“I don’t know how much clearer I can make this but ever since this match was announced by the woman who became Queen for a Day at Into the Void, I have been trying and trying to figure out how to really make this work...and you guys, I am trying to be nice but in my head I have a whole lot of more names for Victoria Lyons that is nowhere near the term “Queen.” and her proclamations of this absolute horseshit of a match.”

The breath that was let out, would have easily echoed off the walls of the place had they not been adorn with the decor that somehow amazingly fit both men, even all the pictures that sat on the tables. All he could do is lean back and fold his hands over his face, trying his best to stay calm.

But...

“You’re damn right, I’m pissed about this. This is not the first time that I have had to take Carter on, in fact the last time we were in any type of match it was for the Roulette Championship and a lot of people found out I could actually carry a tune with some seriously questionable music taste. Part of me even still has PTSD from that match after I found out that Carter had entered into it with a broken finger, and never told anyone about it.”

“Victoria thinks it’s funny that she has done this to us, but instead she doesn’t seem to grasp the concept that by her doing this is only bringing back things that we have rather wanted to long forget about. It’s apparently fucking hilarious to her and somewhere in that convoluted mind, she thinks that this is only going to bring Carter and I even closer. Nah. All you’ve managed to do, you absolute twat, is dredge up months of memories where Carter was getting beat by his then boyfriend and having my hands absolutely tied to be able to do anything about it.”

That still lived fresh, even after almost 2 years.

“And honestly, part of me isn’t shocked that this has happened, because let’s face facts, the fates have been teasing this for a while now, but the fact that Ms. Lyons has the absolute audacity to claim that this is only going to bring my fiance and I even closer, is not only a slap in the face of everything we have been through but is completely ignorant and proof positive that you haven’t had anything tickle your fancy that hasn’t run on batteries.”

He leaned forward and just shook his head. He was doing everything he could to just not let it all unleash but at this moment, what was the fucking point.

“No, fuck this. Fuck you Victoria. If you had put Carter and I into a regular competitive match that would be one thing, mind you we still would have our trepidations- but you are telling us that in order to win the match we need to knock the other out? I will not ever intentionally hurt my soon to be husband.”

And he points to himself, there is always that line that you do not cross and this was crossing it with him.

“And you all know me, I have never backed down from any challenge but this, this is a line that I will not cross. No matter what Victoria Lyons says, no matter what the consequence is to either of us, you Queen or not are not going to force my hand. You will however have a nice set of middle fingers your way with all the respect that you have garnered from this powertrip you are on. You and your so-called powers can kiss my ass. I’m out.”

Blow After Blow

As the final echoes of the crowd's cheers faded into the distant hum of the arena, Miles stood alone in the dimly lit corridor backstage. His heart hammered in his chest, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he replayed the events of the match in his mind. Defeat hung heavy in the air around him, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue.

Carter approached cautiously, his footsteps echoing softly against the concrete floor. He could see the frustration etched into every line of Miles's face, the weight of defeat bearing down on his shoulders like a heavy burden. With a gentle hand, Carter reached out, resting it on Miles's tense shoulder.

"Miles... you okay?" Carter's voice was soft, filled with genuine concern.

Miles shook his head, his jaw clenched tight with pent-up emotion. "I’ve been better," he admitted, his voice thick with frustration. He’s trying to hold it in, he was mad and he had EVERY right to be but the last person he wanted to take it out on was the man he loved more than life itself. So he did the next best thing he could, he started peeling what was left of his wrist tape, "You saw what happened out there, love. Vaughn had to resort to cheating just to get the upper hand. After everything we've been through, after we had those fans legit at the edge of their seats and the fucker has to just pull it all out and fuck all with that dirty ass pin... and then...." Miles just rips the rest of tape off and crumbles it up and throws it down the hall, “HE MOCKS ME with the title I just spent 7 fucking months pouring everything I had into it. I don’t give a fuck that he walked out of here tonight with that belt, let him have it. But now the next shot that I have at that son of a bitch? I’m gonna rip his bleeding heart out and shove it down his fuckin’ throat.”

Carter frowned sympathetically, his heart aching for Miles's pain. "I’m sorry babe. I really am. I thought for sure you had him several moments there and that match was just...it’s got Match of the Year written all over it. You should at least be proud of that."

“Don’t misunderstand me, love. I am extremely proud of that but it all seems tainted now by a shit move by a shittier human.” Miles wants to scream but instead he just stops and takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. Just...”

Carter reaches out and rubs his fiance’s arms to help him calm down, “Fuck Vaughn, I get it.”

“In other news, you looked absolutely spectacular, like always. I must give Olive a whole lot of credit.” Miles smirked.

Carter just rolls those beautiful blue eyes and a smirk of his own, “Maybe enough to let her design your next gear?”

The laughter was much needed because we all knew how this was going to end and part of Miles really wanted to see it, “She’ll have to have a conversation with Mattie and I think we both know that kind of clash the world is not ready for.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point. But still couldn’t help but put that out there, even if it was to see you laugh just a little bit.”

Miles just sighs, and wraps Carter up in a hug, “I love you so damn much.”

Unbeknownst to them, LJ, the young man that during the whole show Miles found out he wasn’t just another wrestler but indeed his long-lost half-brother, stood nearby, hesitating to approach. He had overheard their conversation and felt a pang of empathy for Miles's plight, I mean he did just throw a major wrench into their lives. With a deep breath, LJ stepped forward, his voice tentative yet sincere.

"Um... Miles?" LJ's voice wavered slightly as he spoke, unsure if now was the right time to intervene.

Miles looked up, surprised to see LJ standing there. Recognition flickered in his eyes, albeit briefly, before the weight of his frustration settled back in. "Hey, now’s not really the best..." he replied, his tone distracted.

LJ shifted nervously, his gaze darting between Miles and Carter. "I know and I just wanted to...I couldn't help overhearing... about what happened out there tonight. I just wanted to say... I'm sorry, man. That really sucked."

Miles's expression softened, a flicker of gratitude shining in his eyes. "Yeah, it sucks big time," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. "But hey, that's wrestling for you, right? Gotta take the good with the bad."

Carter interjected, his voice tinged with anger. "."Yeah, especially when you're up against someone like Vaughn. Guy's a snake, always looking for an edge

Miles nodded in agreement, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "I think I’m done ranting for the night. I’ll recoup, recover and then kick his ass the first chance I get. But umm, look LJ, I know we probably should talk but-"

“Oh no, I know...not the best time. But I wanted to give you my number before I leave, so when you’re ready...” LJ reaches out and in his hand is a piece of paper with his number, “Anyways, whenever you’re ready...”

“He’ll call,” Carter spoke with a little bit of sharpness in his voice, snatching the paper from LJ’s hand. “Now if you excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”

Carter wraps his arm through Miles and starts to pull him away, “Uh, you alright?”

“That’s the second time he’s done that tonight when we were having a moment,” Carter mumbled.

Miles raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering across his features, “Now who’s being the protective one?”

Carter smirked, squeezing Miles's shoulder reassuringly. "Just looking out for you, babe."


Suds and Sibling Revelations
Back in Vegas

Back in the familiar comfort of their Las Vegas home, Miles and Carter settled in after the whirlwind of Blaze of Glory and its aftermath. The weight of Miles's loss still hung heavy in the air, but being back home provided a sense of solace amidst the chaos.

As Miles sat on the couch, flipping through the channels absentmindedly, his mind wandered back to LJ, the young man who had unknowingly entered his life and turned it upside down. He had spent the past week processing the revelation that LJ was his half-brother, a fact that still felt surreal even now.

Carter noticed the distant look in Miles's eyes and placed a comforting hand on his knee. "Hey, you okay there, love?"

Miles snapped out of his reverie, offering a faint smile. "Yeah, just lost in thought, I guess."

Carter nodded understandingly. "Still thinking about LJ?"

Miles nodded, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. "Yeah. It's just... I never imagined I had another sibling out there, you know? For the longest time it was just myself and Bri, with mum. And now that I do, it's like this whole new world has opened up."

Carter squeezed Miles's knee gently. "It's a lot to take in, I get that. But you handled it with grace, inviting him over and all."

Miles nodded appreciatively. "Yeah, well, I figured it was about time we had a proper chat. I want to get to know him better, understand what his life has been like growing up without knowing about us or our dad."

Just then, there was a knock at the door, interrupting their conversation. Miles's heart fluttered with anticipation as he rose to answer it. Opening the door, he found LJ standing there, a hesitant smile on his face.

"Hey, LJ, come on in," Miles greeted, stepping aside to let him enter.

LJ stepped into the living room, glancing around nervously. "Thanks, Miles. And uh, thanks for inviting me and all. Hope I’m not intruding or anything."

Miles waved off LJ's concerns with a reassuring smile. "No worries at all. We're glad you're here."

Carter greeted LJ warmly, offering him a seat on the couch. "Make yourself at home, LJ. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?"

LJ shook his head gratefully. "No, I'm good, thank you."

Carter and Miles look at one another and Miles just nods and Carter goes off to make himself scarce as the brothers talk. As they settled into an uncomfortable silence, Miles cleared his throat, breaking the ice. "So, umm, LJ, I don’t really know where to even begin. I know things have been a bit... hectic, to say the least."

LJ shifted uneasily, his gaze fixed on his hands. "Yeah, it's been... a lot. Finding out about you, our sister...which I know that’s gonna be a whole other situation... it’s not even really about dad in a way but... it's been a rollercoaster, to say the least. But look, just to clear the air, I’m not looking for anything, I just...I’m an only kid, at least I was until recently. My mum raised me on her own when da died, not that I remember much, I was only three when he..." LJ clears his throat, “Sorry, I don’t mean to do the whole trama dump.”

“Oh believe me, there is still a lot about Lyle Kasey, the first, that I have yet to let go of.” Miles nodded empathetically, sensing LJ's apprehension. "BUT I can imagine. It's a lot to process, for both of us. But look, I know you have several questions and I have my own so, let’s start off with dear ole dad."

LJ looked up, meeting Miles's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "Yeah, I guess that’s about as good as anywhere to start. My mum said that he was pretty much a smooth talked when the whole relationship started, but when she learned about the truth...that he was still...apparently our mums knew one another."

“Of course they did, and trust me when I say nothing that I find out about that man surprises me anymore.”

Just as the conversation started to flow, a commotion erupted from the bathroom. Splashing water and frantic meows filled the air, causing Miles and LJ to exchange puzzled glances.

“What in the hell? Carter?”

Carter emerged from the bathroom, soaking wet and slightly frazzled, with a sopping wet and furious Ms. Thang squirming in his arms, she eventually breaks free and takes off for her cat tree, just high enough away that Carter won’t pull her down but he just glares at her and tries to collect himself, "So...I tried to give Ms. Thang a bath, but she's not having it," he explained sheepishly, his hair dripping water onto the floor.

Miles couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. As LJ can’t help but laugh out, "Looks like someone's not a fan of bath time, huh?"

Carter rolled his eyes, gently setting Ms. Thang down on the floor where she promptly shook herself off, sending droplets of water flying in every direction. "Tell me about it. I think I need a towel more than she does."

“You know damn well I am the only one she lets even remotely bathe her.”

“Oh yeah? You think you’re so slick...go ahead and try to get her and you can do it.”

Miles just looks at LJ to say ‘Gimmie a mo’, and walks over to the cupboard, grabs some treats and slowly makes his way over to Ms. Thang. “Hey sweetheart, let's get you that bath.” he shakes the treats in his hand and Ms. Thang tilts her head and does a meow before she slowly crawls down the tree and Miles greets her with the treats, “There we go. Good girl.”

Miles picks her soaked self up and carries her past Carter and LJ who just look on in wonder, with a sly grin on his face.

“He really needs to teach me that.” Carter says, running his hands through his hair, “That’s your brother, and yes...he really is that damn good.”


Putting that Work in
Go Gym

The atmosphere in the gym was charged with intensity as Miles Kasey unleashed a flurry of strikes on the punching bag. Each blow landed with bone-crushing force, echoing through the cavernous space. Sweat glistened on his brow, his muscles flexing with every movement as he poured his frustration and anger into each strike.

Carter stood nearby, watching with a mixture of concern and admiration. He could see the fire burning in Miles's eyes, the determination etched into every line of his face. Despite the recent setback, Miles was more focused than ever, driven by a fierce desire to prove himself in the ring.

"Miles, you're on fire tonight," Carter called out, his voice barely audible over the sound of Miles's relentless assault on the bag.

Miles didn't respond, his focus unwavering as he continued to unleash a relentless barrage of strikes. With each punch and kick, he could feel the weight of his recent defeat pressing down on him, fueling his determination to succeed.

Finally, Miles stepped back, his chest heaving as he took a moment to catch his breath. His gaze swept across the gym, lingering on the various training equipment scattered throughout the room. This was his sanctuary, his refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Here, he could let go of his frustrations and focus solely on his training.

But even in the midst of his solitude, Miles couldn't shake the memory of his recent loss to Peter Vaughn. The way Vaughn had cheated and mocked him in front of the entire world. It was a bitter pill to swallow, one that left a sour taste in his mouth.

And now, as he prepared to face off against the enigmatic Entity, Miles's determination burned hotter than ever. He knew that this match was about more than just victory. It was about redemption, about proving to himself and to the world that he was still the same Miles Kasey who had fought tooth and nail to become the SCW Internet Champion.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Miles turned to face Carter, a steely resolve in his eyes. "I'm not going to let Vaughn's mind games get to me, Carter. Or anyone’s games for that matter. I'm not going to let them win. This is my time, my moment to shine. And when I step into that ring, I'm going to give it everything I've got. No holding back, no regrets."

Carter nodded, his own determination matching Miles's. “Did I ever tell you that it’s really really hot when you get like this?”

Miles stops for a second to smile, “I’m just getting started.”


Round One
Battleground - Hastings
But we’re back in Manchester...for a little bit at least.

The weight of recent events pressed heavily on Miles's mind as he sat in the quiet of his hotel room. Carter had insisted that they would come over a little earlier to visit Miles' family to help him get his mind off everything but instead, he found himself getting deeper and deeper into his own head. He knew the looming match against Entity would be no ordinary bout. It wasn't just about physicality; it was a battle of wills, a clash of minds. And Miles was determined not to let Entity get the better of him.

Leaning back on the couch, Miles ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing with thoughts of his enigmatic opponent. Entity's mask, his mind games, they all seemed designed to unsettle, to undermine. But Miles refused to let fear take hold. He had faced tough opponents before, had stared down the barrel of defeat and emerged stronger for it. And knowing at Entity was out for a little redemption of his own with Carter’s win over him just a few weeks ago.

"This Entity character... he's something else," Miles muttered to himself, his voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and determination. "The way he plays mind games, gets into your head... it's unnerving, to say the least."

But Miles wasn't one to back down from a challenge. He had fought tooth and nail to climb the ranks in SCW, had overcome obstacles that would have broken lesser men. And he wasn't about to let some masked wrestler unravel everything he had worked so hard to achieve.

"I know it’s cliche but it’s no damn secret that I've faced my fair share of tough opponents in this business," Miles continued, his tone growing more resolute with each word. "But Entity... he's on a whole other level. He's not gonna just try to beat me physically; he's gonna try to break me mentally. And I'll be damned if I let him succeed. My life right now, it’s an open book and never ending twists and turns but I have accepted the things that I cannot change. I know damn well that I am no longer SCW Internet Champion, I let it slip from my hands. And yeah, I am plenty pissed."

With a determined glint in his eyes, Miles rose from the couch, his jaw set in determination. "I won't let him get to me. I won't let him use his mind games to throw me off my game. I’m now out to throw everyone else off theirs. When I step into that ring, I'll be focused, I'll be ready. And I'll show him what I'm made of. I’m going to make everyone wonder exactly what the hell has been unleashed. And I hope like hell Peter Vaughn sits back and watches as I make Entity question his actual existence."

As he spoke, a sense of calm washed over Miles, his resolve unwavering in the face of uncertainty. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, knew that Entity would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. But Miles was ready. Ready to face his fears, ready to confront his demons, ready to emerge victorious.

"Our dear sweet Entity may think he has the upper hand," Miles concluded, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "But he's about to find out that he's got paired up with the wrong mother fucker at the wrong fucking time. When it comes down to it, it's not about masks or mind games. It's about heart, it's about determination, and it's about who wants it more. I’m not going to let this slip...not now...and not ever again. And believe me, Entity, I want it more than you could ever imagine and I will hold no pity for you. Not anymore. And not ever again."

With those words hanging in the air like a challenge, Miles strode out of the apartment, his resolve unshakable as he prepared to face whatever awaited him in the ring.

Taking Care

As the SCW Internet Champion, Miles Kasey was no stranger to challenges. Whether it was facing off against formidable opponents in the ring or navigating the complexities of his personal life, he had always tackled obstacles head-on with unwavering determination. But nothing could have prepared him for the challenge he faced when Carter, his fiancé, fell ill with a severe case of bronchitis.

It started innocently enough, with Carter complaining of a persistent cough and mild fatigue. But as the days passed, his symptoms worsened, leaving him bedridden and miserable. Miles watched with growing concern as his normally energetic and vibrant partner became increasingly lethargic and irritable. And driving Miles completely insane beyond the typical.

He would have rather Carter stayed in their bed, which he knew Carter was the most comfortable in, but Carter insisted on moving himself into the secondary bedroom that was once upon a time his room. Something about not taking chances of Miles not getting sick, but it seemed like Miles was a bit immune to this particular sickness this time around.

Just like Carter did with Miles when Miles came down with a wicked case of food poisoning, Miles saw to Carter’s every need. From soup, to water, to tea...as much as Carter grumbled at the sight of it instead of his usual coffee along with medication he needed to kick this. He had more luck giving Ms. Thang her heartworm medication.

"Carter, please," Miles pleaded, his voice laced with worry, as he attempted to coax his stubborn fiancé into taking his medication on top of drinking tea instead of coffee, "You need to take this. It'll help with the cough."

Carter scowled, pushing the medication away with a stubborn shake of his head. "I don't need it," he insisted, his voice hoarse and strained. "I'll be fine."

Miles sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he struggled to conceal his concern. He knew Carter was fiercely independent and loathed being confined to bed, well at least when he was sick, but he couldn't stand idly by while his partner suffered.

"You're not fine, love," Miles said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "You're sick, and you need to take care of yourself. Please, just take the medication and have a sip of tea. It’s either this or I’ll grab the funnel and sit on you and I don’t think it’d be good for you for that kind of action right now."

“You keep saying this and part of me is really tempted to take you up on it,” Reluctantly, Carter relented, accepting the medication with a resigned sigh. Miles watched with relief as his partner finally acquiesced, hoping that the medication would provide some much-needed relief.

“Thank you,” Miles smirked, “You know I’m not much of a fan of you being in here by yourself.”

“I’m not going to risk you getting sick too. You have too much going for you right now.” Carter says setting up to take another sip of tea, making a face, “Usually, I don’t mind tea but I really rather have coffee.”

“Yeah, well tea is better for you and it’s too late for coffee anyways, especially the kind you have. That milk isn’t great right now for you. So deal, babe.” he places his hand on Carter’s forehead, “Not feeling warm but still, you should sleep.”

“If I can without coughing.”

Miles sighs and uses the same hand to push Carter back to the pillows, “Try. I’m gonna go grab a shower and I’ll check on ya in a few. No moving.”

If there was ever a pout that could have broken Miles' heart, Carter attempted it. Carter though only got a shake of the head and a laugh, “You’re no fair.”

“And yet you agreed to marry my arse,” Miles tease, “Sleep.”

Sure enough, in the short time that Miles was in there, Carter was fast asleep. Miles tried as he might to sleep in the other room but after about an hour, he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do. They hadn’t slept in different beds since the night before they had gotten together and it was hell to try and start now.

So without so much of a thought he left their bed, looked around noticing that Ms. Thang was nowhere to be seen and made his way back across the hall. As soon as he entered the room, he found where the cat had been, with Carter, laying on his chest looking as content as can be.

“Good girl,” he said giving her a scratch on the head before walking around to the other side of the bed and laying down next to Carter. Ms. Thang knew what was coming next and she moved quickly down to the end of the bed before Miles carefully tried to not wake up Carter by gathering him up, but Carter stirred. “Shhh, don’t mind me.”

“Miles, no...I don’t want you to-”

“I’ll be fine, but I couldn’t sleep.” Miles said settling in, and after a bit Carter realizes that he’s not gonna win this argument. A smile grew over Carter’s face, “Not one word, love.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”


Family Matters

Miles sat in front of his laptop, the screen glowing softly in the dimly lit room. He fidgeted nervously as he waited for the video call to connect, his mind swirling with a mix of excitement and apprehension. It had been a while since he had last spoken to his sister Brianna, and he couldn't help but wonder what news she had to share. He’d hear from her via text now and again but they had all been so busy.

Finally, Brianna's tired but welcoming face appeared on the screen, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her brother. "Miles! It's been too long," she exclaimed, stifling a yawn. "How are you?"

Miles returned her smile, relieved to see her familiar face. "I'm hanging in there," he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "How about you? How are Garrett and Riley?"

Brianna's expression softened, her fatigue giving way to concern. "We've been better," she admitted, her voice heavy with worry. "We’re all trying to work a lot more and well...Garrett's mother found out about your wedding, and let's just say she didn't take it well."

Miles felt a knot form in his stomach at the mention of Garrett's mother. He had always known that she disapproved of his relationship with Carter, but he hadn't expected her reaction to be quite so harsh.

"Well she hasn’t been my biggest fan since the wedding," Miles said, his heart sinking. "Is everything okay?"

Brianna shook her head, her frustration evident. "Not really. We’ve had to have her watch Riley because of all of us taking on extra jobs lately to save up. Well Garrett let it slip about the reasons why and since then she's been giving Garrett a hard time about it, saying all sorts of hurtful things. She knows not to say that to me, because I will tell her where to take her shite opinions especially when it has to do with you AND Carter."

Miles clenched his jaw, his fists tightening with anger. He hated seeing his brother-in-law suffer because of his relationship with Carter, especially when Garrett had done nothing wrong.

"Unbelievable," Miles said, his voice brimming with righteous indignation. "Garrett deserves better than that. He's a good man, and he loves Riley more than anything."

Brianna nodded, her eyes shining with tears. "I know, Miles. It's just... hard. We're doing our best to ignore her, but it's not easy when she's constantly making snide remarks and trying to drive a wedge between us."

"I wish there was something I could do to help," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I hate knowing that you're going through this because of me and Carter. I think Carter is right, maybe planning a trip over and visiting may be a good idea."

Brianna shook her head, her gaze steady. "We would love that, Miles. But none of this isn't your fault. Garrett's mother has always been difficult, even before you and Carter got engaged. She’s just a gross human being that is unfortunately related to me by marriage."

“That whole saying about not being able to pick your family...”

“Well Garrett came with that mess. He adores you guys and you know it, she’s just...vile.”

“With a capital V. Look, I know Carter is going to be biting at the bit. Let us figure this out, but you let that bitch anywhere near my nephew after that-”

“Oh don’t you worry about that, after her last rant, even Garrett told her she’s off babysitting duty until she goes to Oz and gets a heart, a brain and a damn bit of common sense.”

“I knew he was a good man, but Wizard of Oz? Really?”

“Hey! That’s a good movie dammit!”

Miles chuckled, the tension in the room easing slightly at the familiar banter with his sister. "Alright, fair point. But seriously, Bri, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know. I'll do whatever it takes to support you and Garrett."

Brianna smiled gratefully, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you, Miles. That means the world to me. Just knowing that you're there for us, even from miles away, gives me strength."

Miles nodded, his heart swelling with love for his sister. "Always, Bri. You're not alone in this. We'll get through it together, just like we always do."


The Reunion

You know, it's been a minute since I teamed up with Ally. We've had our fair share of battles together, some victories, some not so much. But every time we step into that ring, there's this undeniable chemistry between us. It's like we can anticipate each other's moves without even having to say a word.

But this match, it's different. We're not going in as just another mixed tag team. Nah, this time it's personal. This time, it's about proving ourselves as individuals. After that last defeat, I knew we needed to switch gears, focus on our singles careers. And now, facing off against The Conspiracy, it's like the universe is giving us a chance to show just how far we've come.

Raven and Luna, they're no joke. I've seen the way they operate, the mind games they play. But we're not backing down. Not now, not ever. Raven may have his sights set on Ben, but tonight, it's all about us. It's about showing The Conspiracy that they picked the wrong opponents to mess with.

Sure, the title isn't on the line tonight. But that doesn't mean we're taking this match lightly. Every match, every opportunity to step into that ring is a chance to prove ourselves, to show the world what we're made of. And tonight, we're going to leave it all out there.

So, Ally, if you're listening, let's do this. Let's show The Conspiracy what happens when you underestimate us. Let's show them that we're not just another tag team, we're a force to be reckoned with. And when that final bell rings, they'll know that Miles Kasey and Alexandra Calaway are here to stay.

Under the starry Santa Barbara night sky, Miles Kasey sat on the edge of a weathered wooden pier, his feet dangling above the gently lapping waves below. The soft glow of the nearby harbor cast a warm, amber hue over the scene, creating an atmosphere of tranquility amidst the bustling city.

With a heavy sigh, Miles leaned back, his hands braced against the weathered planks as he gazed out at the horizon. The distant sound of seagulls mingled with the faint hum of traffic, a reminder of the world beyond the peaceful solitude of the pier.

"It's nights like these that make you appreciate the quiet," Miles remarked, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia as he turned to his companion, Alexandra Calaway, who sat beside him, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

"Yeah," Alexandra agreed, her tone soft as she absently traced patterns in the sand with her fingertips. "It's a welcome break from the chaos of the ring."

Miles nodded in agreement, his thoughts drifting to the upcoming match. "Speaking of which, I've been thinking about Climax Control," he said, his voice thoughtful. "I know it feels like just another match with nothing really on the line but...I think we both know...This isn't just any match, Ally. It's a chance for us to prove ourselves, to show that we're more than just a tag team."

Alexandra nodded, her expression serious as she met Miles' gaze. "I know what you mean," she said, her tone determined. "We've both come a long way since our last match together. I know I’ve been through a lot and...I still can’t help but apologize."

“Don’t even worry about it. We all go through the hard times in our lives,” Miles smiled, a flicker of excitement lighting up his eyes. "But I asked you last week if you were ready for this," he said, his voice filled with confidence. "And without skipping a beat, you knew and you responded. We've faced our fair share of challenges, but Sunday, we're going to take on The Conspiracy and come out on top. Nothing is going to stand in our way."

With a shared nod of determination, Miles and Alexandra rose to their feet, their spirits lifted by the promise of the challenge ahead. As they made their way back to the bustling streets of Santa Barbara, the echoes of their resolve lingered in the night air.

“You know my dear, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Well, here we are, entering into 2024 still the reigning SCW Internet Champion. Christmas came and went, as both myself and Carter spent our time in Las Vegas with Carter's mom, Joanna and gram, Joan, while my mum, Mora, sister, Brianna, brother-in-law, Grant and nephew, Riley all spent the holiday together. And it all went absolutely wonderful.

I don’t want to bore you with the details, but if we thought 2022’s Christmas was spectacular, that didn’t even hold a candle to this full on family celebration that they had had. They even invited the usual suspects of Ariana and Francisco. The door was always open to friends. Traditions were carried out, Christmas movies were played, food was wonderful and gifts were exchanged. And by the time the McKinney’s and Kasey’s had all parted ways, something interesting happened.

Mum and Joanna have become fast friends, sharing stories of their boys, much to mine and Carter's (mostly Carter’s) horror via text, phone calls and video calls. 4,663 Miles between them and the moms bonded with that whole distance.

We won’t get into New Years Eve. But it was sure as hell a whole lot better for the both of us...if you catch my drift.

ANYWAYS, 2024 and it’s time for things to come to an end.

Closing the Chapter: Farewell, Karen

The air was thick with a sense of something happening, and well that smell that one gets as Miles entered one of the local bars, a favorite greasy spoon place that he had found some time ago, the familiar scent of spilled beer and the low hum of conversations providing a backdrop to the unfolding drama. It had been several weeks since the explosive encounter with Karen Chapman, the infamous neighbor from hell, and Miles was hoping for some peace. Little did he know, fate had a surprising encounter waiting for him.

As he waited for his late night dinner order, Miles noticed a solitary figure at the bar, nursing his third drink as was evident by the 2 other empty glasses that sat next to the gentlemen. It was Hank Chapman, Karen's long-suffering husband. Miles hesitated for a moment, debating whether to approach or not, maybe a quick rush off to the loo, but it was too late—Hank had already spotted him and gave him a quick wave over.

Hank, worn and weathered, looked like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Despite his best efforts to avoid eye contact, Miles found himself drawn into conversation with the beleaguered husband.

“Hey there, Hank. How's it going?”

Hank sighed, taking a long drag from his glass, “Oh, you know, same old. Dealing with the aftermath.”

All Miles could do was nod rather uncomfortably, “I can imagine. Look, I don't want to pry, but is everything okay?”

Hank laughed almost bitterly, “Okay? No, Miles, nothing has been okay for a very long time. But you know what? Today's different.”

Intrigued, Miles pulled up a stool, sensing there was more to Hank's story than met the eye. And besides he wasn’t about to miss out on some juicy gossip about what was going on about the woman that had done nothing but detest him and Carter. Hank was a good man though, he worked hard to make sure that his family wanted for nothing. As the conversation unfolded, Hank began to share a tale of years spent in quiet misery, bound by a prenuptial agreement that kept him tethered to Karen's tumultuous world. The revelation, however, was a game-changer.

“She's been cheating on me, Miles. For over a year. I have had to deal with that bullshit for 15 years and well...I found out....actually I walked in on it, confronted her and her lover, and now it's over. I'm divorcing her.”

Miles’ eyes grew huge when he was hearing this as he was genuinely surprised, “I'm sorry to hear that, Hank. But, in a way, it sounds like you're finally free.”

Hank smiles sadly, “Free... that's exactly it. I've been stuck in this nightmare for too long. The divorce is happening, and we're selling the place. I'll be rid of her for good. Well, hopefully, not sure what the kids are going to want to do. But either way, I’m getting them out of the whole situation.”

Hank's revelation about Karen's infidelity and the impending divorce hung in the air as the two men continued their conversation at the bar. Hank had offered to buy him a round but Miles politely declined and opted for just water instead. Miles felt a mix of sympathy for Hank's ordeal and a tinge of relief that the Chapman drama might finally be reaching its conclusion.

Hank took another sip of his drink, staring into the depths of his glass. "You know, Miles, I never expected things to turn out this way. But maybe it's for the best. I can finally live my life without that constant chaos."

Miles nodded in understanding. "Sometimes, it takes a storm to clear the air. And who knows, maybe you'll find peace on the other side of all this."

Hank managed a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "I sure hope so. But, uh, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. It's about Keith."

Miles raised an eyebrow, suddenly more attentive. "Keith? What's going on?"

Hank hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating whether to share the information. "He's been struggling, Miles. More than I realized. All the drama with Karen and his siblings—it's hitting him hard. I'm worried about him and it feels like he may be hiding things from me. I know I haven’t been around a whole lot but-"

Concern etched across Miles' face. "I've noticed he's been going through a rough time. But...what can I do to help?"

Hank sighed, grateful for Miles' offer. "I talked to him, after that last blow up. He talked highly of you and I think he connected. I know there is something more. Keith... he's been acting out, and he’s been getting into some serious trouble at school."

Miles' expression shifted from concern to a deeper gravity. "What happened, Hank? Is there anything I can do?"

Hank took a deep breath. "I just needed someone to know. Maybe, even after the move, if he knows that you can keep an eye out for him. I'm doing my best, but I can't be in two places at once. And with all this chaos, I don't want Keith slipping through the cracks."

Miles nodded solemnly. "If he’s up for it, I’ll see what I can do, Hank." Before Hank could continue on, Miles phone came alive with a tone, “Uh, pardon me for a moment Hank...I should take this.”

And that call that would jolt him out of the bar, snatching his food on the way out and back into the unfolding complexities at Turnberry Towers.

Unwelcome Shadows

The neon glow of the Las Vegas Strip cast long, unsettling shadows as Miles rushed back to Turnberry Towers. The call from the Las Vegas Police had jolted him, leaving a sinking feeling in his gut. The night air, usually filled with the distant sounds of the city's revelry, now seemed eerily silent.

As Miles approached the Towers, he could see the flashing lights of police vehicles and ambulances, a stark contrast to the usual serene atmosphere. He parked his car hastily not even caring if it was illegal or not, heart pounding, and rushed towards the scene.

Anne Thompson, the President of the Towers Association, stood near the entrance, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. Miles hurried over, his mind racing with worry for Carter.

"Miles," Anne's voice carried a tension that matched the atmosphere.

“Anne, where is- is he-?”
"He’s ok, Miles. I got there just after everything happened. He’s over there speaking with the police right now."

She would point ahead as Miles caught a glimpse of Carter with a blanket over his shoulders, speaking with the few officers, his face dirty, sweaty and in Miles’ eye he looked scared. Miles pushed through the crowd, calling out Carter’s name, the uniformed police officers stopped Miles at first. Mrs. Thompson told them who he was and they let him through. There, on one of the concrete barriers, sat Carter, looking visibly shaken.

But the minute the young man saw Miles coming towards him, he stood up and was engulfed in Miles’ arms. The police gave them both a moment as Miles helped Carter sit again and Miles dropped to his knees beside him, a mix of relief and concern flooding through him. "Love, are you okay? What happened?"

Carter managed a weak smile, his eyes reflecting the ordeal he'd just been through. "I'm okay. Just... I was getting home and next thing I knew some guy tried to jump me. I managed to fight them off."

"What were they after?" Miles asked, his gaze shifting from Carter to Anne, who had joined them.

Anne sighed, her frustration evident. "We're not sure. It looked like a random attack. But we're working with the police to review security footage."

And as if on cue the police, along with the head of security make their way over to them with an iPad in hand. “Mrs. Thompson, we have something that you may wanna see.”

She excused herself from Miles and Carter to see what they had needed. Miles watched for a moment before his attention returned to Carter, who was now being examined by paramedics. The adrenaline that had fueled his fight had given way to a palpable exhaustion.

"You did good, love," Miles said, his voice a quiet reassurance, wrapping his arm around pulling him close and placing a kiss on top of his head, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Carter managed a wry smile, "Yeah, well, they didn't know who they were messing with."

As the paramedics finished their assessment and assured Miles that Carter would be physically fine but to take it easy for a day or so just to be on the safe side. After a few moments, the police along with security and Mrs. Thompson walked back over. “Carter, I know you are still shaken up but is it possible that you could look at something and perhaps confirm what I think we are seeing. I know it may be difficult but...”

“Just show me.” Carter let out holding out his hand, as they turned the iPad over to him and he and Miles watched what happened together. The first shot shows Carter pulling into the garage in his bug, we see two figures, one the male figure already hooded up and he’s looking and seeing where the second figure is pointing. The second figure is a lot shorter, and doesn’t even bother to cover their head. Medium-short hair, blonde. The ire of Miles raised quickly.

“I know that head of hair anywhere.”

And just then that person turns and the camera catches her face in Black and White HD.

They had nothing to lose, nothing to gain and the mastermind behind a vicious attack, and if Miles were a betting man, he would label the guess as to who was their co-conspirator.

“Stanley to all, putting a B.O.L. for a female, 40 years old, estimated height of 5’ 3”, 165 pounds blonde medium-short hair and goes by the name of Karen Chapman. Arrest on site.”


Old Opponent, New Twist

The scene opens in Miles Kasey's living room. Miles is seated on a comfortable couch, surrounded by the warm glow of dimmed lights. The SCW Internet Championship rests beside him, a testament to his recent triumphs.

He smirks, a confident gleam in his eyes. "Peter Vaughn, my old nemesis. It's been a journey and a half since the last time you and I faced off in that ring. It has been a path of growth, of learning, and most importantly, a journey of winning."

The camera zooms in, capturing the intensity in Miles' gaze.

"Back then, Peter, no matter what we have gone through, you had my number. I won't deny it. But times, as they say, have changed. Look around, Peter. Since the last time we have crossed paths, I have built a kingdom, a small one maybe but the beginning of something amazing. Between here and being invited to the Go Gym, it’s where I've honed my skills, where I've transformed into the SCW Internet Champion."

He lifts the championship belt, the gleaming metal reflecting the room's soft light.

"I'm not the same Miles you faced before. Some might say that I have evolved. And somehow, by many’s surprise, I've become a champion. And Peter, you seem to be holding on nice and tight to that Roulette Championship. BUT when we step into that ring once again, this coming Sunday, it won't be the same story.”

“You see this time, things are very different. You are no longer a stooge and the cleaner and I have seemingly started to grow-up. Maybe it’s because of everything that 2023 brought. Maybe it’s because while you were in the background, being your dominate self, I was thrown into the spotlight and suddenly a contender not only to what is now MY Internet Title but I even had shots to the very championship that J2H just relinquished and now us and the 6 other lucky saps are now battling for.”

“And not going to lie, bruv, the situation that we find ourselves in probably is one for the ages. The champion simply didn’t want to be a champion anymore but he’s not leaving, he’s just tired of being a target. Could you imagine if one of us did that? If suddenly we had no desire to be who and what we worked so damn hard for, and just give it up? What would that say about that particular division? I have never said it out loud but it cheapened the whole damn thing with a tournament and instead of the winner facing who was, it’s just handed to us.”

“So this is how I’m looking at it, I have a lot to prove against just about every man in this tournament. Minus Carter. ....and minus Austin after the hell we just put each other through. After everything I don’t see it being much of a struggle for me; it'll be a statement. A statement that Miles Kasey is no longer the underdog; he's the top dog. He is the one to beat."

The room seems to pulse with Miles' determination. He leans back, placing his free arm on the top of the couch and scratches his chin, contemplating what he wants to say next.

"I respect what we've been through, Peter. I respect the battles we've waged. But this time, I'm not just looking for a win. I'm looking for dominance. I'm looking to show the world and, more importantly, show you that I've ascended to a level you haven't seen before. In other words, mate....I plan on winning the whole fuckin’ thing."

He places the championship back beside him, the room returning to a momentary calm.

"So, SCW Roulette Champion, Peter Vaughn...brace yourself. The SCW Internet Champion is coming, not to defend his title but to make a statement, a statement that echoes through the SCW corridors. It’s been a warning that I have been giving all along. Get ready for a Miles Kasey who's not just ready for a fight; he's ready for victory. Elite 8 is where you get off on this journey, mate. I got me a bloody championship to win."

The screen fades to black, leaving the living room in a quiet anticipation.

Keep Messin’ With Me
Las Vegas

For all the benefits that living in the Turnberry Towers had there was one thing that Miles had rather wished he could have gotten out of the minute he signed on the line for his lease.

The Tenants Association.

It was a way for those that live in the towers to get together, unleash any concerns and occasionally put a few trouble makers in their place.

Since Miles had moved in just two floors below Kristjan and Aron Baltasarsson back in January of this year, he has had one major issue with the whole damn place. And her name just happens to be Karen Chapman.

Ms....yes MS. Chapman with her three children, her over processed blonde hair, looking like she got ganged-banged by Mary Kay and Avon reps that has absolutely nothing better to do than force her kids into shit they didn’t wanna do, and devote her entire existence into making the residents of the towers a living hell when her husband wasn’t around to wish that he could afford a divorce.

Trust me, the man is miserable.

When it came to the matters of Karen, she did nothing but look down her nose at pretty much everyone that did not immediately kiss her ass. Miles first meeting with this woman was when he was having a conversation with another tenant of the towers about how this was really the first place he had bought, and just how all the hard work had paid off. It was something that he was honestly allowed to be proud of because before that moment, all he did was rent or take up space in his friends' places.

Karen would just insert herself into a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with her and was incredibly RUDE about it. It’s one thing to insult Miles. He can take it and he’s used to it but then she started to go after Carter for just calling her out on her “guest” for taking their assigned spots, at that point there was zero love lost for this woman.

Apparently during the last tour, where Miles and Carter were in a completely different timezone,  there was a meeting where she decided to try and get pets banned from the building. Of course they would leave it to the majority vote and since the majority wasn’t there, she was forced to gather signatures.

Which leads us to the current time.

It WAS a quiet afternoon. Was being that word when the Ring doorbell went off.

“Were we expecting anyone?” Miles asked. Over the last couple of weeks, between the condo in the midst of planning for a remodel and all the insanity going on with Carter’s family, he wasn’t sure anymore.

Carter stopped to think for a second, “Not that I’m aware of.”

With Ms. Thang on his shoulder, Miles stopped to check the screen, he just groaned, “I didn’t have ‘Be nice to a bitch’ in my cards today.”

“Karen? What does she want?”

“Who the hell knows.” Miles grumbled, “I’m really not in the mood to talk to her of all people.”

Just then the buzz came again followed by her fist not knocking but POUNDING at their door.

“I CAN HEAR YOU IN THERE, MR. KASEY!”

Miles looked at Carter who continued to flip through one of his many magazines that have seemingly taken over the living room area as of late, “Don’t look at me. I dealt with her the last time she got pissy about the note I left her.”

Miles simply let out a short breath mumbling “shit” under his breath before he debated about just letting it go for a moment but it was like a Howler from Harry Potter...the longer you let it go, the worse it only gets.

He would indeed open the door and plaster on the fakest smile he could with her and she almost cringed when she saw him with Ms. Thang still hanging out on his broad shoulders, “Ms. Chapman, I really can’t talk. We’re in the middle of some-”

“Whatever it is, Mr. Kasey, your ...roommate can spare you for just a few moments. I am here to inform you that there is a petition going around to amend some rules in the towers. One of them is about well...that thing on your shoulders.”

“What? Ms. Thang?”

“All pets actually. There was a complaint made recently about all things 4 legged and there being NO concern about those with allergies or medical conditions to these filthy-”

Ms. Thang quickly hisses at her before jumping off of Miles shoulders and runs back into the apartment, “Well I think I agree with her. Karen, if you even think about shoving that paper in my face, I’m going to show you how the first version of confetti was made. Secondly, I heard about your confrontation with Carter and you have a whole lot of guts showing up at my door after that.”

“He is being allowed to stay here and has no right to-”

“No ma’am. He is LIVING here, this is OUR home and we are given two spots each. But I will not be signing your little petition to anything, no matter your reasoning. BUT I will tell you that if you want, you can go two floors up and ask them. You might have better luck.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Someone that won’t be shoved around or intimidated by your supposed power. That and if you had been a little kinder to myself and my boyfriend, maybe I would be kind enough to give you the time of day. But Karen, you screwed the pooch on that one about 7 months ago and on.” Miles smirks, “I do wish you luck on that but umm...yeah, no thanks.”

“You do not want to make me the enemy, Mr. Kasey.”

“And you are not the first person to threaten that, Ms. Chapman. So climb back up Mount Crumpit until your shriveled heart grows three sizes, but give my best to your hubby.”

And all Miles does is wink at her as she goes to scream at him and he slams the door in her face. He can hear Carter just lose it from the living room, “You do realize that you sent her to Fenris and probably made things 10 times worse, right?”

That just brings a shrug to his shoulders, “Hey, she started it.” he said as he took a seat next to him, “Now, where were we?”


Round 2

“Not that long ago, Calvin took to twitter and made mention about how I pulled out all these stops in the King for a Day match. And part of me honestly thinks that he was majorly impressed and perhaps a little intimidated by the absolute lengths that I will go to towards making an absolute statement that I wasn’t about to be pushed around.”

“And I think that’s where he caught himself up last time. He pushed himself so hard that he hurt himself before we even got to the match and he found out real quick that I wasn’t about to take pity on that.”

“So it took the most devastating move in all of professional wrestling for him to end it after we took each other to the absolute limit. And since then, it’s been relatively quiet. Our Internet Champion, who laid out that challenge was suddenly caught up in what he had to do to beat me that he went right to Mark and Christian, demanded that the second bout be for his championship because he perhaps is thinking that incentive is going to make things even better.”

“Well, he would be right.”

“Not gonna go into the details of the situation because I am allowed my secrets but I’ve been having conversations lately because suddenly I feel that glass ceiling cracking ever so slightly. I KNOW that I can get to that next level and it’s just a matter of time before all those pieces finally come together.”

“Calvin, no offense mate, but when you laid this challenge out I was hell bent on making sure that this was going to be my crowning achievement in 2023. Last year was the Roulette. Now you wave that shiny piece of gold in front of my face like bait, and not only am I going to bite but I’m going to drag you down when I do.”

“Not a damn thing personal about it, bruv. It is strictly business. And at least look at it this way...at least I like you. I don’t think you’d want me on my bad side.”

“I’ll show you what I can do...when I’m pushed hard enough. And that’s take that Internet Title from you”