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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Supercard Archives => Topic started by: Christian Underwood on November 11, 2024, 09:49:48 AM
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Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!
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PARADIGM SHIFT XXVIII // TRUE FRIENDS
YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF NERVE, BUT NOT A LOT OF SPINE. YOU MADE YOUR BED WHEN YOU WORRIED ABOUT MINE. I WOULDN’T HOLD MY BREATH IF I WAS YOU, CAUSE I’LL FORGET, BUT I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU. DON’T YOU KNOW? TRUE FRIENDS STAB YOU IN THE FRONT.
BRING ME THE HORIZON .
••••••
It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for.
The moment that people expected more from, the moment that everyone wanted to see – me lose my temper, me make a mistake, me fail at the things I’m good at. Me sit in a moment where everyone in all of SCW can finally sit there and tell me that I’m the fuck up that they’ve all expected me to be.
This is it.
At the precipice of High Stakes, the grandest show in the entirety of the SCW Calendar, a match levied and set for at the last Supercard. The SCW World Heavyweight Championship on the line, in a match that puts two members of the same gym together in what’s supposed to be a bloodbath.
I don’t need to tell you the story, because we’ve lived it all. But let me capitulate over this for a bit and you’ll see why I’m starting here. Over a year ago now, Miles Kasey was embroiled in a war with fellow Wolfslair member Austin James Mercer, and it was Austin who attempted to use me as a lesson for Kasey. A rusty wrestler with a multitude of wins and championships under my belt both from my time here and my time away. A significant amount of people in this business know that when Finn Whelan is on, there’s very little in the world that can stand toe to toe and come out on top. But was I ready?
No. I’m not an idiot to throw that under the rug. I wasn’t as ready when I lost that championship, and every time in this company that I’ve lost has been because I got lackadaisical. I know that, I take accountability for that. Somewhere deep down, even though she won’t say anything about it, I am the one to blame for losing our Mixed Tag Championships. In that night, furthermore, it was Miles Kasey who walked out with a win without a lesson to be learned.
That’s when this started, did it not? Because until some godforsaken night in October, I was undefeated for the entirety of the year. People threw their shots at me, people expected me to fail, people expected me to do worse, But we were Mixed Tag Team Champions for months – nearly a whole year…until you. Fighting tooth and nail, despite the hatred from the rest of the world about my continual rise.
Until you.
You know, going over the tapes and the history and knowing all of this…I’m going to end up repeating myself a couple of times, but it’s inevitable at the end of the day. Because I’ve done this song and dance several times before, and like I said last time…it’s boring. I’m sure you thought I meant that facing you three times for the Mixed Tag Team Championships was really the boring part. If you think that, then sorry not sorry, Miles, you’re wrong.
It’s literally because you’re boring. The most exciting thing you did was stab me in the back and…I dunno, look around and tell me how important you think that’s made you. People clamoring at your door? People cheering you on? No? Oh, Carter, but that makes sense.
So let’s talk about that for a moment. Let’s talk about that exact moment and let’s see what I can deduce was going on in your little, tiny, boring ass brain. You thought that you’d make a racket by making a claim to my championship, you thought that it was the best idea to sit there and cause a stir. You thought it was the best option to finally getting back at me for all the times that I’ve sat there and said you had potential that you were wasting. All the times that I’ve stood there and had your back, all the times that I helped you get ahead.
A lot of that is because of me, or have you forgotten? When your crazy ass ex became psychotic, I opened my home to you. Without pay, without anything, because I knew that it was something that you needed. I am nothing if not a shoulder to the people that I give a shit about, and once upon a time, you understood that. If you’re going to sit there and think that I was pissed about you jumping ship to find your “happy”, let me tell you that again, you’re fucking wrong.
I was pissed because you had the audacity to sit there and state your lack of communication was because you stuck your dick in something that patted your ego and made you think you were ever anything more than a goddamned midcarder with nothing but a vanilla ass attitude that can be equated to one of the first people to be kicked off RuPaul’s Drag Race. Because despite your “bratty” personality – which really just reminds me of a teenage girl who has no ability to take accountability for their little bullying antics – you’re simply living in a life behind a mask that tries to hide the fact that you’re a worthless piece of shit.
Did you think I was going to be nice? That I was going to give you respect?
Respect can be given to Peter Vaughn, who at least had the audacity to state upfront what he was doing. Respect can be given to Alex Jones, who wears his dislike on his sleeve and isn’t going around corners to get what he wants. Respect can be given to every single damn competitor in this locker room that steps forward with integrity and shows themselves for who they are. You?
You’re a little bitchboy queen that’s worse than Jeffree Star on a day reviewing a brand of makeup of someone who trashed him over the weekend for his toxic behavior. I was just doing this thing to distract you so you would be unfocused, hehe! I just wanted to shake your hand and stab you in the back! HEHE!
And let’s touch lightly on the fact that you think Wolfslair has any kind of use for you. Remind me again…who was it that got them to welcome you back with open arms? Who was it that peptalked you? I was there, I remember.
It was me.
It’s always me.
And the way you that you decided to repay me? Stabbing me in the back? Because you want some gold in your life and that was the way that you decided to go about it. And now?
Now, Miles, you’re getting your wish. I’m going to recognize you for exactly who the fuck you are.
If you thought you were getting off scott-free, I implore you to think again. Remember that you asked for this.
There’s a burial plot for you back in Manchester that’s ready for you to continue digging your own fucking grave.
••••••
There wasn’t always a lot to celebrate in their lives, but for once, the household members of Finn’s Wayward Home found an opportunity where they could finally just let go and be. Finn knew that his upcoming match would be a test of not only his patience, but of his skill. He didn’t want to think about it – the thought of Miles Kasey’s existence had been triggering his anger and frustration lately. Kayla knew it. Dickie knew it. Hell, even little Dax could tell that “Unca Finn” had resentment in his features.
The only way to combat anger was to live well.
So he did.
The booming bass of the Akumu in the Queens Boroughs of New York City was firstly a front for the illegal activities of the Yakuza, but was actually a fully functioning club that was frequented by a large variety of the denizens of the city. People had their drinks in hand, singing along with the DJ, bobbing along to the music. The whole of Wolfslair was there that night because Finn had decided it was a night to celebrate. A night to be out with his teammates…and he was paying for it. A way to be thankful for the week coming up and being a family again. Everyone was invited – and yes, even his new nemesis who hadn’t shown up.
Dickie and Aiden had taken over bartending duties – which actually meant that they were ingesting more alcohol than they were serving. He’d lost track of a lot of the others, but knew Alex was simply shaking his head while watching the members of his highly successful gym had fun. Kallie and Tasmin were dancing next to their VIP booth upstairs that looked over the rest of the dance floor, while Amber and Kayla were in the recess of the booth, sipping on their drinks and looking on at the festivities with a bit of disdain.
Finn stood at the opposite end of the club, his arms crossed, a smile curving up on his lips as he watched everyone. He knew his place in this world. He was giving Kayla space with her family, but kept catching her eye. She’d smile slyly at him, and then send him a text that was definitely not appropriate to share here. His eyes floated down to his little brother, his curly blonde hair bouncing around as he bopped to the music.
“SOMEONE POUR ME UP A DOUBLE SHOT OF WHISKEY!” He screamed.
Aiden joined in, yelling at the top of his lungs with the song. “YA KNOW ME N’ JACK DANIELS GOTTA HISTORY!”
Finn wasn’t quite sure how much alcohol Aiden had ingested by this point, but he did indeed climb up onto the bar itself to help lead the patrons in a sing-along.
“OI YOU’RE NOT IN COYOTE UGLY.” Dickie yelled as he hit Aiden in the back of his legs. The Australian waved comically as he tried to maintain his balance and then lost his footing as he fell into the bar.
Shaking his head, Finn snorted and made a choice to move upstairs for a bit. He made his way to the same booth Kayla was at, only stopping as Kallie grabbed his hands and tried to engage him in some Colorado-bumpkin two-step dance. She giggled as he shook his head and then went back to dancing with Tasmin, and he dropped into the booth.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance.” Kayla snickered at him, leaning in as he stretched out an arm to wrap it around her shoulders.
“That would be because I’m like a buffalo.” He quipped back, pressing his lips to her forehead in a rare show of affection. Amber looked up from her phone and squinched her nose, wrinkling it heavily.
“And you’re going to look like Mum if you keep that up.” Kayla pointed at her own forehead and nose. “I think she has more tattoos.”
“You saw her?” Amber questioned, tilting her head slightly. Going to the Richards’ mother’s house was not a readily done thing. She peered at Kayla, who pursed her lips slightly. “Oh my god, you finally brought someone home to meet Mum. Did she try to be all sweet and caring?”
“It was definitely not like her.”
“I’ll have you know the second I said I liked cranberry pudding and explained that I knew it was a cake, she liked me.” Finn replied, pointing a finger at Amber, who snorted and inhaled the rest of her mixed drink.
You break her heart and I’ll kill you.
The words echoed from his meeting with Kayla’s mother. His brain blocked out the sound of the world around him as he thought about that moment in Norwich. He’d been given a small glimpse into her life without him, and he wasn’t about to squander it. Kayla was hard to get to know for anyone, and the fact that she’d opened up to him even further had continued to build their relationship and trust in each other. He loved her dearly, despite the fact that she was as abrasive as a porcupine.
He couldn’t imagine being the one to break her. And he wasn’t quite sure that if he did, he would be able to handle it himself.
“Are you worried about Miles?” Amber interjected again, and Kayla rolled her eyes in response.
“Little cunty bitchboy…” she muttered. Finn smirked and shook his head.
“I’m always apprehensive of matches. I’ve done my research. I’ve done the steps that I need to do. But I think he expects me to make a mistake because I’m angry…”
Amber raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, pressing her chin on her hand. “I mean, like…that’s logical, but knowing you as minimally as I do…you don’t care.”
“I did,” Finn admitted. “I cared in the beginning. I cared up until the championship loss. And that was my fault. After that…the kid was dead to me. I just want to be over this so I don’t have to think about Miles Kasey and his childish antics ever again.”
“He picked a scab though, didn’t he?” Amber pressed.
“A deeply seated one, yeah,” Finn shrugged, noting Kayla had stiffened as her sister had asked any of her probing questions. He rubbed her arm softly, trying to get her to loosen up. Again, Amber watched them closely, observing how close they were to one another, the fact that her sister even was willing to be affectionate with him in public, and the fact that they seemed to be comfortable in each other’s presence. He soothed her just like she soothed him.
“Let it alone, Amber.” Kayla grumbled, taking her drink from the table and sipping at it, wincing slightly as the vodka in it burned her throat. “After High Stakes, it won’t even be a thought anymore. None if it will be. And I will finally get some alone time where he’s not running off to Wolfslair all week.”
“Look, that’s my other job,” he snorted, shaking his head. However, something downstairs caught his eye. He turned his head as Kayla said something to him, and then to Amber, and again, the world around him became muddled. Standing near the doorway with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his shitty bearded face was Finn’s other current nemesis.
Jace Pleasant.
He locked eyes with The Seattle Saint, that smirk widening as he knew Finn wouldn’t stand for him being on his territory. Or rather, Dickie’s territory. He nodded to Finn, then started moving forward through the club. Likely, he was moving for the backdoor. Finn’s eyes darted to the surreptitiously hidden Yakuza guards who he was certain had their eyes trained and weapons readied to remove the threat if needed. He raised his hand with all five fingers raised, and then cut at the air with them.
He would handle this himself.
“I’ll be back,” he kissed Kayla on the forehead once more, and then slid away from her. His eyes searched through the metallic grated floor to find Jace again, and found him doing exactly what he thought– back door. His feet carried him, boots thudding against metal, down the stairs and along the same path.
One warning was all that he had.
••••••
Are you prepared to dig into your own soul? To your own career?
I know you think you’re wrestling’s greatest gift, and you have an ego that is far larger than your brain allows. I kept thinking that eventually, you’d amount to something wonderful and great. I know you like to make decisions for yourself and act as if the world doesn’t affect you. That’s why you jumped ship to fuck around with Carter, wasn’t it? Finding yourself, being so concerned that everyone in your life would care that you jumped on the dick rather than caring that you were happy. And when no one said a damn thing against it – at least, that I care to know about – you had…what?
Your own preclusions about returning to the gym and all the people you abandoned when you just up and disappeared. I didn’t give a fuck that your time was temporary in my place, but you said nothing to every single individual in Wolfslair. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but as the resident heathen there, I will always point out that we have a weird way of being there for one another. Kind of hard to do that when you didn’t communicate to anyone.
But they still took you back. And you had the audacity to invite everyone to a wedding to a man who none of us had any inkling of knowing well…because you needed your Wolfslair mates. Those are your words, not mine.
I guess I can understand why you sat there and thought that attacking me wouldn’t really affect your place in the gym. I mean…after all, Austin had beef with you and you guys maintained civility. Except…Austin was also estranged from Wolfslair at the time and going through a significant crisis of self. I suppose you could also argue that you were able to attack me and nothing would happen because of my resident heathen status.
Except none of us believe in turning our backs on our teammates. Not for gold. Not for glory.
You were expecting to be kicked from the gym. And when that didn’t happen, you thought you would appeal to Alex. Except you had no fucking clue what was going on, because once again, Miles, you don’t ever realize that there are about eight different cogs in the machine moving at different times. The second that you stabbed me in the back, I went to Alex. I didn’t want to be the man that was suddenly becoming the target by my own teammates, but the resignation meeting turned into a planning session.
All of us were involved.
You didn’t get kicked. It’s like Alex said to Kayla – it’s more of a punishment to be at the gym now. You think anyone is going to work with you when you turned your back on the man that helped you return? I can tell you right now that every human being in that place is simply disappointed in your bullshit.
Had you come to me and said that you wanted to challenge me for my championship, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. Had you been a man, you wouldn’t have so many people against you. You wouldn’t have gotten your face blown in by Alex. You wouldn’t constantly be attacked on Twitter by Kayla–
Oh. Your use of “I don’t give a fuck” is a real edgelord tactic. So is making little quips about how often I get laid…how mature of you. How adorable. You think telling everyone how much you don’t care makes us think that you don’t? Because, clearly, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have commented. And also mentioning someone else’s sex life, ever, is very high school catty bitch – makes sense that you never got out of that phase.
Notice how I stopped commenting. Notice how I stopped responding. Notice how you’re removed from my social media? It’s because, unlike you, I don’t care about you, Miles. I’m not trying to gain your attention or giving you attention simply because I don’t have to, nor are you entitled to any of my time. The only reason that we’re even speaking at this point is because I simply want to tell you how much Carter won’t recognize you after I slam your face into the turnbuckle enough times to really rearrange the thoughts in your brain, since it doesn’t seem to function right anyway.
You act like you’re some great wrestler in this company, but if we’re being honest…statistics tell us everything else differently. You couldn’t hold onto the Roulette Championship for more than 60 days…and lost it to Bill Barnhart. More impressively, your 189 days lasted for your Internet Championship reign. Braddock, Eddie, Austin, Oz, Justin. People you beat over the course of two years – the only ones relevant being Eddie Lyons as he was getting his footing and Austin, who took a step back to reevaluate his life. Everyone else was a bucket of trash or gone. This year alone you’re something like three-eleven. You haven’t been booked since August, and every time we’ve been against each other since, you and your bratty bestie have been beaten. In fact, I pinned you last time. I know.
Hurts, don’t it?
I’m supposed to look at you and think that you’re such a goddamn underdog that you can defeat me? The man who repeats some cock and bull every week about being recognized as being most improved, that everyone should recognize you as the up-and-coming wrestler that has been up-and-coming since twenty-twenty with nothing to show for it. Over eighty matches with a fucking forty percent chance of you doing something decent.
No wonder you couldn’t stand up to me like a man to request this match, to earn this match. Instead, you acted like a fucking idiot and ended up with a whole gym hating you and the fans not quite sure which person to hate more. This is how Vaughn got into your head week in and week out – you don’t change, you don’t improve, you just think that because people love Carter then they’re going to love you.
You’re a fucking joke, Miles. The posts on twitter, becoming a shitposting memebase pirate without a single thought for yourself.
I want you to look at yourself in the mirror after this match and how badly you’re going to get knocked in the teeth and ask yourself if a piece of gold was worth destroying the rapport and relationships you’d regained. I want you to ask if betrayal was worth anything to you.
I’ll forget this one day. I’ll forget the anger and the frustration and the immense disappointment that I have that I ever accepted you as part of my life. I’ll forget that I wanted your head on a pike. And I’ll forget that you exist. But forgiveness? Acceptance?
I know your field of fucks is barren of thine fucks, but I hope you remember that when there’s no-one in your corner anymore because you’ve made yourself your own pariah. Pirate, my ass. You’re fucking Jack Sparrow searching for acceptance in this world and you’ve lost every minute scrap of respect that you had.
When we go out there in Tucson, I sincerely hope you understand what kind of demon you’ve awakened. I hope your little quips and snide remarks were worth every ounce of malignancy that is beaten out of you. I hope you understand that this isn’t just about remaining champion. It’s about teaching you a lesson that you never learned about consequences. You know, that thing you love to say all the time – fuck around, find out. You did that, Miles. You’ve fucked around, and now you’re about to find out what happens when not only do I not give a fuck about you, but what happens to people who betray me.
I will destroy you.
I will make sure you never want to cross paths with me again.
You’ve lost all my respect. You’ve lost the SCW Fans respect when you became an ignorant pissant.
I hope this was worth all of it in the end.
••••••
“You have a lot of balls,” Finn quipped as he let the door to the club slam behind him in the alleyway. He headed for the middle of the street, looking at Jace with a smirk on his lips. A similar one, at least, to the shit-eating one that the Romani had on his just moments earlier. “Walking in like that to a Yakuza establishment without care.”
Jace didn’t really look like he fit in the club attire with his denim, biker-esque attire. He stood there, his arms crossed as he waited patiently for Finn to make a move. “I knew you wouldn’t have anyone do anything, especially with all your friends in there.”
“I don’t have friends,” Finn replied, almost as soon as Jace had stopped speaking. He tilted his head. “You have your Romani family, I have my own.” He waited for a moment before Jace took a step closer to him, reaching into his pocket. “I would keep my hands where people could see them. You wouldn’t want to get shot, you know.”
“Oh, I could have done so, but…” Jace reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture of a redheaded girl. Finn’s face turned stoic as he looked at it, impassive as Jace just continued to smirk. “Addi is doing such a great job in Orlando. Working at Disney looks like it’s made her happy again.”
Addi was Addisyn, Finn’s blood sibling. He didn’t often involve her in his business, especially because she was closer to his parents and basically the only person who was going to inherit the family business. He loved her dearly, but their relationship was better with him somewhere else. “What do you want?” Finn asked, calmly.
“You know what I want.”
“Kayla’s not a piece of proper–”
“She’s my property!” Jace snapped at him, cutting him off. “I made a choice to save her life years ago, and now it’s time to collect. She’s been gone long enough, and I can keep her safe now. Far safer than you ever will. With me, she won’t need to work. Wrestling, pfft. You’ve already stolen pieces of this family, and for that we should have retaliated. Luca should never have been returned to that gorger, but returning him will cost too much. We know this. I could take someone of your family.”
“If you touch anyone in my family, I will put your head on a pike.” Finn replied, trying to keep himself from matching the same angry tone that Jace was using. The less he showed emotion, the more Jace would become emotional. Perhaps he would make a mistake. And that could be manipulated if he needed. “I know you have your little sycophants following our every move. That’s fine. We won’t do anything, as long as you don’t do anything.”
“You realize she keeps trying to come back to me, right?” Jace questioned, narrowing his eyes to watch Finn’s expression. When there was the briefest bit of change, Jace nodded and took a few more steps forward. “You didn’t know? She keeps trying to turn herself in because she knows the dangerous consequences of this little stand-off that we have. But I think you should also look at it this way…she keeps trying to come back to me. Why is that? Could it be–”
“You’re not going to make me doubt her.”
“-- that she’s still in love with me? Of course, she is.” Jace stopped, inches from Finn’s face. Finn was tall, but Jace stood over him a few inches. He laughed at the dark-haired man. “You don’t get rid of your feelings for the Romani that quickly.”
“Because you’re a brainwashing cult?”
“You know, I know you think I’m the enemy and that I’ve done something to hurt her. But Kayla and I had the best relationship built on–”
“All right, mate,” a gruff voice came from the doorway. Both of the men turned their head to find Aiden standing there, the usually happy-go-lucky joy erased from his face as he opened the door. “I think it’s time you skedaddle down Candy Land Lane and go back to your Carnival Compound, aye? Or do I need to alert me friends?”
Jace sneered at the Australian. “And what, you’re gonna secret Koala code them out of the dark?”
“Sore o tesuto shite mimasu ka?” Aiden replied, asking him if he wanted to test that. He grinned awkwardly as well.
Jace looked between the two of them. Finn was one person that Jace didn’t completely want to contend with, but did. Two people who could bring more and he was on his lonesome here? No, he wasn’t an idiot. He took a couple of steps back.
“She’ll come back to me.” Jace replied. “Be my guest to see it.”
“I’m betting differently.” Finn snapped back as Jace continued to walk backwards into the darkened shadows of the alleyway until he wasn’t visible anymore.
Finn turned to the door and sighed audibly, placing his hands on his hips and exhaling. He didn’t want to bring this up to Kayla whatsoever. He knew how headstrong she could be. She could easily step away, easily think that she could fix all of this if she just turned herself over. But he couldn’t allow that. Finn knew that. He knew he had to handle it himself if he was going to protect her like he wanted to. He grit his teeth and then continued to breathe, trying to calm down his reactive brain.
“He’s a fuckin’ nuisance, mate.” Aiden said, shaking his head. He looked around and then looked at Finn again, leaning forward. “I’ma let Dickie know he got in and see if we need to retrain the sumo-bouncer at the front. And like, this is obviously why you need to give me a gun, aye? Coulda just pop-pop’d him all skibidi.”
Finn snorted, and then looked at Aiden, shaking his head. “No, Aiden.”
-
Rebuild All That You’ve Broken
Following Violent Conduct
London, UK
The air was sharp and cold, carrying a dampness that clung to the concrete outside the O2 Arena. London had a way of making the night feel heavier, like it could swallow a man whole if he let it. Miles Kasey leaned against the brick wall of the loading dock, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath. He wasn’t in his ring gear anymore. The dark jeans and black leather jacket he wore gave him the look of someone ready to vanish into the shadows—or perhaps step out of them for good.
The adrenaline from the moment still coursed through his veins, but it wasn’t the kind that left him jittery or unfocused. No, this was something different. Something purer. He could still feel the weight of the SCW World Championship belt in his hands, the one that he held and handed Finn after he went through hell to defeat Kris Ryan. He could still feel the heat from the London crowd roaring as Finn Whelan celebrated yet another triumph. He could still hear the hollow crack of his forearm smashing into Finn’s skull, the Double Edge Sword delivered with surgical precision.
It was as if the arena had stopped breathing in that instant.
He had seen Finn crumble to the mat like a toppled king, the SCW World Championship slipping from his grasp. Miles had to will himself to even look back at the carnage he left behind as he exited the ring. That wasn’t his style. He didn’t gloat or grandstand. He didn’t need to. But the look on Finn’s face made it worth it.
The statement had already been made.
They were in his home, and this time he was going to set those rules that they all love to live by.
The door to the loading dock creaked open behind him, spilling faint yellow light onto the alley. A production assistant hesitated in the doorway, his wide eyes betraying the nervousness etched on his face. He carried Miles’ carry-on bag, holding it out as if it might explode.
“Here,” the assistant stammered. “They... uh, Carter told me to make sure to give this to you. He said he’d be right out.”
Miles glanced over his shoulder, his piercing blue eyes locking onto the assistant’s face. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice low and deliberate. He took the bag with one hand and slung it over his shoulder.
“Are you... okay?” the assistant asked, his tone cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he should be asking at all.
Miles let the silence hang between them for a moment, then smirked. “Never better. Do me a favour, mate? Let my husband know to text me when the ride gets here, something tells me it’s not safe to just stick around here.”
Without another word, Miles turned and walked down the alley, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. His boots clicked against the pavement with each step, steady and unrelenting.
Every Wound Will Shape Me
The streets of London were quieter than usual, though Miles wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or if it just felt that way. The further he walked from the O2, the less the echoes of the crowd filled his ears. He imagined the chaos that would be erupting backstage now. The confusion, the anger, the shouting. Finn Whelan’s fury. The fallout would be tremendous, of that he was sure.
The city lights cast long shadows across the pavement, and for the first time in a long time, Miles felt untouchable. Every step he took away from the arena felt like another piece of his own puzzle snapping into place. There was a time when he’d doubted himself, doubted his ability to stand on his own two feet, doubted his worth beyond being another cog in the Wolfslair machine.
That time was over.
And it wasn’t like he had exactly had this plan in place for a long time, in fact he had made up his mind when he was out there with that front row seat to that match that no matter who got that win, he was going to claim that spot. It was absolutely nothing personal. Not Finn, not Kris. But this was something that needed to be done. And done it he had.
As he turned a corner, Miles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. A single message from Carter lit up the screen.
“I’m at the car. People are losing their minds back here. Please tell me you’re ready to go.”
Miles’ lips curled into a small smile as he typed a quick response.
“On my way. Don’t worry, love. Everything’s going exactly as it should.”
He hit send and shoved the phone back into his pocket. His mind drifted back to the match, to the moment he struck Finn down. It wasn’t just about the betrayal, though he knew that was what the world would see. Like it was known, if it was Kris Ryans, the same damn thing would have happened. But to him, it was liberation. Finn Whelan had been untouchable for far too long, holding onto the SCW World Championship like a self-righteous king clutching his crown. Miles didn’t see it as betrayal. He saw it as revolution.
Finn had always demanded the best from him. He wanted Miles to step up, to stop holding back. Well, now he had. And it wasn’t just for Finn—it was for the entire SCW roster.
The cab Carter had ordered sat parked at the edge of the block, headlights glowing faintly. Through the windshield, Miles could see Carter in the backseat, his face illuminated by the blue light of his phone screen. As he approached the car, Carter looked up, his expression a mix of relief and exasperation.
The driver popped the trunk as Miles tossed his bag in, sliding into the backseat beside Carter.
“You really went and did it, didn’t you?” Carter asked, his voice low.
Miles smirked, leaning back against the seat. “Did you expect anything less?”
Carter sighed, rubbing his temples. “No, I suppose not. But you know what you’ve done, right? This isn’t going to end with just Finn.”
“I am aware, love,” Miles replied, his tone steady. “But it had to be done.”
Carter looked at him for a moment, studying his face. “Are you sure about that?”
Miles turned his gaze to the window, watching the city lights blur as the cab pulled away from the curb. “Not like I can go back and change it now, even if I wanted to. But to answer your question, absolutely.”
Later That Night
The hotel room was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the heater kicking on. Miles sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at his hands. His knuckles were still red from the night’s events.
He could hear Carter moving around in the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing faintly. Miles tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. The adrenaline had finally started to fade, replaced by a different kind of energy. One that burned low and steady, like a fire that refused to die.
Every word you left unspoken. Rebuild all that you’ve broken.
The lyrics from Throne echoed in his mind, the song playing on repeat somewhere deep in his thoughts. He didn’t need music to hear it—it was etched into his very being now. Every wound, every scar, every moment that had led him here. They had all built this.
His throne.
Carter stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, and gave Miles a long look. “You’re quiet.”
Miles opened his eyes and smiled faintly. “Just thinking.”
“That’s dangerous,” Carter teased, crossing the room to sit beside him.
Miles chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean it, though. Everything’s gonna completely change after tonight.”
“It already has,” Carter said softly. He reached out, placing a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “Just promise me one thing?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t lose yourself in all of this.”
Miles turned to look at him, his expression serious. “Carter, this is the first time in my life, career wise at least, I’ve felt like I’ve found myself. There is gonna be a lot of people that are going to tell you that I would do the same thing to you, but I would never...”
Carter searched his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I know that, babe. Just don’t forget who’s got your back, no matter what happens.”
Miles smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently. “I could never forget that.”
The moment passed, and Carter stood, heading toward the bed. Miles stayed where he was, staring out the window at the city beyond.
Tomorrow, the fallout would begin. Finn, Wolfslair, the SCW brass, whoever else had 2 cents to rub together to throw in their opinion—they would all have their say. He knows a few would come for him, one by one.
But they didn’t understand.
Miles wasn’t afraid of them. He was one of them.
The foundation had been laid, the first shot fired. Miles Kasey was no longer content to play by the rules others had written. High Stakes XIV was on the horizon, and the throne he was building would be forged in the fires of chaos.
And when the dust settled, they would all see the truth: every wound, every scar, every battle—they had only made him stronger.
Miles Kasey wasn’t stepping up.
He was taking over.
I’m Harder On Myself Than ANYONE
The dim light of the gym flickered overhead, casting sharp shadows across the space. Miles Kasey had spent countless nights here, hammering away at his weaknesses and fortifying his resolve. His world had become a singular focus: High Stakes XIV.
The fight against Finn Whelan wasn’t just another match. It wasn’t even just personal. It was everything.
Remember the moment you left me alone and broke every promise you ever made…
Miles’ hands tightened around the bar as he lifted, the weight a physical manifestation of the burden he’d carried for months. Finn had opened his home to him, welcomed him back into Wolfslair, only to turn his back when Miles needed him most. Or maybe Finn would say Miles had done the same.
The lines between betrayal and self-preservation had blurred, leaving nothing but raw, unrelenting anger in its wake.
Pain is the only thing I feel; it’s bringing me down…
He could hear Finn’s voice in his head, laced with the venom of every argument they’d had. Every moment of distrust, every glance that said Miles didn’t belong. It had cut deeper than he wanted to admit.
The Fracture
When Miles had stood at ringside as Finn and Kayla lost the SCW Mixed Tag Titles, DESPITE popular opinion, he hadn’t come to interfere. He wasn’t there to sabotage anything. But his mere presence had been enough to fracture the fragile alliance between him and Finn. But apparently Finn felt slighted juuuuust enough to punch Miles in the mouth.
Which even Miles admitted...it was justified.
And Miles had seen it in Finn’s eyes: the fury, the resentment, the disbelief.
Finn had even in his own way, demanded a confrontation, demanded they talk. But when Miles had finally attempted to approached him, it wasn’t on Finn’s terms, and that only made things worse. Finn had ducked, dodged, and deflected—actions Miles saw as weakness.
Fine. If Finn wanted to see him as the villain, Miles would give him the fight he wanted. He always had to be the villain in someone’s story.
But the bitterness didn’t stop there. Alex Jones, the man who had once been his mentor, had driven the knife deeper just a few weeks later when Miles was going out to simply just cheer Carter during his match against Finn. Instead of staying out of it, Alex delivered a brutal kick to Miles’ face, sending a message that Wolfslair was no longer his home.
Every scar will build my throne…
The pain was real, but so was the determination that rose from it. Miles had spent too long being the loyal soldier, the afterthought, the one everyone overlooked.
Not anymore.
And the whispers.....The fucking whispers and reminders followed him everywhere.
“Finn opened his door to you.”
“Finn welcomed you back into Wolfslair.”
“Finn made you.”
It was as if none of them could see that Miles had outgrown being Finn’s protégé, outgrown being a shadow of anyone.
So you can throw me to the wolves; tomorrow I will come back, leader of the whole pack.
Every word, every doubt, every betrayal fueled the fire burning inside him. The hours in the gym weren’t just about preparation—they were about transformation.
Miles was no longer the broken man who had needed saving.
He was something more.
The Conflict Within
But even as the fire burned, there was guilt simmering beneath the surface. Miles couldn’t deny the truth: Finn had been there when he needed someone. Finn had offered him a home, a place to belong when everything else had fallen apart.
And there were moments—fleeting, but there—where Miles wondered if he was the one in the wrong.
I was an ocean, lost in the open, nothing could take the pain away…
He carried that guilt like a scar, a constant reminder of what he had left behind. But guilt wasn’t enough to stop him.
Because this wasn’t about Finn anymore. This wasn’t about Alex, or Wolfslair, or, as much as he loved him, it wasn’t even about Carter.
This was about Miles Kasey.
The week before High Stakes XIV, Miles sat alone in his living room, the Vegas skyline stretching out before him. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down on him, but for the first time in months, he didn’t feel crushed by it.
The scars were his strength now. Every betrayal, every doubt, every failure had brought him to this moment. The hidden secret he had that kept him from the ring for over a month and a half, that kept him from being a part of the show in his own home country for in-ring action. Finn Whelan wanted to know what it took for Miles to finally step the fucking up and live to the potential that Finn desperately wanted for him?
....those scars would indeed build his throne.
Sunday, he would step into the ring and face Finn Whelan—the man who had been a brother to him, and the man who now stood in his way.
Miles wasn’t afraid of what came next.
He embraced it.
Sure it was going to look like hell.
Because the man walking into that ring wasn’t the same Miles Kasey who had needed saving.
He was the man who would build his own throne.
The Anchor
But even the strongest of warriors needed an anchor, and for Miles’ was Carter.
The gym was his battlefield, and lately, every session felt like a war he couldn’t afford to lose. The weights, the sweat, the exhaustion—all of it was a means to an end, a way to prepare for High Stakes XIV. Kristjan had him in there every day and he was thankful to the man that was quite literally his best man at his wedding.
Fenris was at his doorstep every morning. Not just for the run, but the gym, the working out in the ring. K was there to work on the submissions, the strikes...the man was so well rounded, he was the best and the worst but what Kristjan said to him in one of their sessions kept him going, “You started this fire, Milo. You want them to take you seriously, then you need to show your whole ass against a prick like Finn.”
That would easily turn into Miles joking that he’s usually not that kind of guy and he and K going another 30 minutes of match prep with Miles cursing the whole way.
The fight with Finn was more than personal—it was a statement. It was about everything that had led him here, everything that had torn him apart and built him back up.
That night, after a brutal training session that had left him aching in places he didn’t even know existed, Miles walked through the door of their shared home in Las Vegas. Every step was heavy, each muscle screaming in protest, but his mind refused to let him stop.
He had to keep going.
But Carter was there waiting for him.
The concern in his husband’s eyes was unmistakable, and it pulled Miles up short. For a moment, he hesitated in the doorway, suddenly aware of the toll the past few weeks had taken on him—physically, emotionally, mentally.
“You’re going to burn yourself out,” Carter said softly, his voice laced with worry. He didn’t move; he didn’t need to. The way he stood, calm but firm, told Miles everything he needed to know. Carter was there—he always was, even when Miles didn’t deserve it.
“I can’t stop,” Miles whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of exhaustion. The words came out rough, strained. “If I stop… if I let up, even for a second…”
Carter’s expression softened, but there was a fierceness in his eyes now—something protective, something steady. He reached out, pulling Miles into his arms and letting the silence between them settle. Carter just slowly helped him to the couch and made sure he sat down. He attempted the gentle but with how heavy Miles felt he sort of just flopped down and groaned. Carter moved quickly to sit down next to him and turned to look at his husband. He never seen Miles this committed even when he was deep in a feud with Austin James Mercer. This was something new.
“You’ll be fine,” Carter interrupted, his hands cupping Miles’ face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You’re already more than enough, Miles. You don’t have to prove that to anyone—not to Finn, not to Alex, not to anyone.”
For a moment, just a moment, Miles let himself believe it. Let himself feel the warmth of Carter’s touch and the safety of his words. He closed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion roll off him in waves. Maybe Carter was right. Maybe he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone.
Miles just laid down on his husband’s lap and just closed his eyes. But as the quiet settled between them, that familiar, gnawing voice inside him broke through again. The voice that refused to let him rest, refused to let him stop.
"Help me believe it's not the real me… Somebody help me tame this animal..."
The words—lyrics from another song that had haunted him for weeks—flooded his mind. The animal. The part of him that had been forged in pain, in conflict, in rage. He wasn’t sure who he was without it anymore. The anger, the hurt, the desire to be more than just the man who had been left behind—it was all so deeply embedded in him now. It felt like he couldn’t escape it, even if he wanted to.
But Carter was here, grounding him, offering him the calm he desperately needed but didn’t know how to accept.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Carter murmured, his voice a whisper in the darkness of their living room. Miles looked up and even in the shadow he looked at Carter with a wonder. “I’m here, Miles. I’m here with you—every step of the way.”
The words lingered in the air, the weight of them settling deep in Miles’ chest. All the words that certain people had been saying to Carter after everything, he didn’t believe them. He still trusted Miles fully. But even as he closed his eyes again, feeling the steadiness of Carter’s embrace, something inside him shifted.
“You wanna hear something funny?” Miles said, breaking the silence. Carter looked down at him as Miles gave him a bright smile, “Fenris taught me two things. One, I never met somebody who could sweat so much so easily during a sparring match! And two, something about...I don’t know, I’m exhausted...he tends to talk a lot sometimes. I don’t mean to tune him out but the man knows how to work a match."
That caused Carter to laugh out loud, “Nice to know you are taking it all in. But at least you have that big idiot and his thousand pack abs too.”
He had always believed he had to fight this battle on his own. That he had to prove something to Finn, to Alex, to everyone who doubted him. But now, with Carter holding him, the idea that he didn’t have to face it alone felt like a lifeline.
Miles had never been one to lean on anyone, but in that moment, he realized it wasn’t a weakness to let someone else carry a part of the burden. It wasn’t a failure to trust someone with the pieces of him that had been broken, that had been twisted in the fires of ambition and pain.
Carter was his anchor.
The one person who kept him tethered to something real. The one person who reminded him that he didn’t have to prove anything anymore.
The next day, Miles returned to the gym with a renewed sense of purpose. The wolf was alive and well inside him, was still there, still raging, but for the first time, he wasn’t trying to fight it alone. He was the one at Kristjan’s door bright and early for his daily asswhoopin’.
Despite those across the country being pissed off at him, he didn’t have to look far for that support system.
Beat me black and blue
Every wound will shape me
Every scar will build my throne
The air is thin and crisp in the Santa Catalina Mountains, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting deep shadows over the rugged mountainside. Miles stands alone at the edge of a cliff, staring out at the vast, rocky expanse. His breaths are steady, but his mind is a storm. The Tucson skyline flickers far below, and the only sound is the occasional rustling of wind through the dry desert brush. The place is silent, but Miles' thoughts roar inside his head.
He’s come here for a reason—he needs to confront his own demons before he steps into the ring with Finn at High Stakes. There’s so much at stake here. His career. His future. His destiny. He can't afford to let doubt linger.
He takes a deep breath, looks at the setting sun, and begins to speak, as if he’s addressing Finn directly—even though no one else is around. It’s a monologue for the ages, a man finally at peace with his own ambition, knowing that he must cut through the noise and claim what’s his.
Miles stood there with a sneer, full of contempt in his voice, "You wanted me to step up, Finn. You begged for it. You sat there, a multi-time champion, talking down to me like you were some kind of god in this company. You said, ‘Bring your best,’ like you were testing me. Like you needed me to prove myself to you.
And now that I’ve finally taken the bait, you’re sitting there like some little boy who made a mistake. You wanted me to come for you? You asked for this. And now you’re whining about it? Crying about the fact that you got exactly what you asked for?”
A pause for dramatic effect, of course, and he could taste the bitterness dripping from his tongue, “This was never personal for me. It was business, Finn. It was always about proving something. About showing everyone that I belong. You thought you could keep me in the shadows of your glory, that I’d always be the second-rate kid. But here's the thing you don't understand—I'm not afraid to get dirty. I never have been. And when I finally found my voice, when I finally stepped up, you couldn’t handle it.
You thought you knew what I was capable of, but you had no idea. You didn’t just wake up a monster, Finn. You became one, by beating down every single person in your path. You played the game. You played it well. But here’s the difference between us—you’re a relic, a washed-up Caesar, holding onto power by any means necessary.
And I’m the one who’s going to take it all from you.”
Miles just scoffs, and begins to frantically pacing, his tone turning colder,
“You wanted to see what I was made of? You’ve seen it now. I’m not some underdog looking for a handout. I’m not some hopeful rookie scrambling for scraps. I’m the future. I’m the SCW World Champion waiting to happen. The title’s always been mine, Finn. And I’m done waiting for you to fall down on your own simply because you were waiting for me to go ‘Pretty please.’ like some sort’ve good little boy. I’m not here to be your sidekick. I’m not here to be your backup plan.
You wanted me to play by your rules, but that’s not how this works. I’ve pissed you off because I am the one that called the shot and it was right at your head. I’ve been holding back for months, watching as you ran your mouth, listening to your little sob stories about how the world owes you something. Newsflash, Finn: nobody owes you anything. You’ve been living off the past for far too long.”
Miles' voice only grows more intense with every moment, his voice almost echoing through the range, “I’m not going to let you continue to drag SCW down with your broken promises and your lack of vision. You had your time—now it’s mine. You used to be the face of this company, the one who carried it on his back. But you’ve turned into a tyrant, a shell of the man you used to be. And I love you, Finn, I do. I respect what you’ve done for this business. But you’re holding the rest of us back. You’ve become the very thing you used to hate. You’re the Caesar—comfortable, complacent, thinking your power’s untouchable.
But just like Caesar, you’re about to find out that it’s all over. I am the one who’s going to take that power. Not because I hate you, but because I love this company more than you ever will. This was never about you and me. It was about SCW. It was about bringing the future to the present. And the future is me, Finn.
So yeah, you can keep crying about how I went too far. You can keep telling yourself you were just trying to protect your precious title, your legacy. But in the end, I’m the one who’ll walk out of High Stakes as the SCW World Champion, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
His voice sharpens with finality, “What’s crazy is I’ve already won, Finn. I won the minute I stepped up and said that I will no longer be your personal punching bag. I don’t care that Alex drew the line in the sand, I really don’t care that Kayla hates me a little bit more, because lets face it, if you’re not a skinny emo prick, she doesn’t give a fuck about you anyways, and she’s really not my type. This is my personal pledge and a standing to you and for everyone that came before me. When I finish you off, and probably throw you back on the shelf for a little while like you tend to do, the world will know that I am the one who was always meant to sit at the top. You really should’ve never asked me to step up, mate. You really should’ve known better. And now, you’re gonna pay the price. Hell, we probably both are going to lose a little bit of ourselves in this. We’re probably going to bleed and well we all know I have no problem with that. Because when the dust settles, when it’s all settled in the wounds and festering there to be infected even further into our souls, there will only room for one of us at the top. And I am taking what’s mine. I’m taking my throne."
Miles, with a fierce determination and grit, takes one last look at the view below and then walks away, his footsteps echoing in the desert silence. The final words hang in the air like a promise that only one of them will walk out victorious at High Stakes.