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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: LJKasey on April 25, 2025, 11:45:42 PM
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Flashin’ Back
Middleton, U.K.
LJ’s family’s home
*wavey lines...blah blah blah*
The room was half-packed, the kind of organized chaos that looked more like a storm had swept through than someone preparing for a new life. T-shirts spilled out of one suitcase, books stacked in wobbly towers on the bed, and a pair of boots—new, still smelling like the shop—sat untouched in the corner.
LJ stood at the closet, shoulders tense, folding a jacket he’d already packed twice before. The zipper caught on itself, and he yanked it, frustrated, before tossing it onto the bed with a grunt.
Behind him, the door creaked open. He didn’t have to look.
Rebecca’s voice was soft, but unmistakably hers. “You’re really going.”
LJ didn’t answer at first. He kept his eyes on the pile of clothes, like if he focused hard enough, it would distract from the ache settling in his chest.
“Mom…” he said finally, “I need to do this.”
“I know,” she replied, stepping further into the room. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. Her hair was shorter back then, clipped close to her jaw, the silver in it catching the light from the hallway. Her eyes—those sharp, unflinching eyes LJ had inherited—watched him carefully.
“You could’ve just stayed,” she said. “Gone to school here. Gone to law school. You had options.”
“I still do,” he said, not looking at her. “But I’ve made my choice.”
A pause.
Then, another voice behind her. Warmer, but firmer. Joan.
“Becca, let the boy breathe.”
Rebecca gave her wife a look but stepped aside as Joan entered, hands on her hips, brow raised like she was already preparing for a courtroom cross-examination.
“We’re not stopping you, LJ,” Joan said. “You’re grown. We get that. But your mom has a right to be concerned. And so do I.”
LJ sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I’m chasing wrestling? Or because I’m chasing him?”
“Both,” Rebecca said without hesitation.
“You think I don’t know what I’m walking into?” LJ turned then, facing them fully. “That people are gonna look at me and see Miles Kasey’s little brother? That maybe they’ll want to take a swing just to get his attention?”
He shook his head.
“I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the tape. I know who Miles is—and who his enemies are.”
Rebecca stepped forward, the weight of her worry coming off her in waves. “LJ… your father—your real father—he got caught up in this world. And it broke him. It broke everything. Wrestling’s not just lights and belts. It’s blood and politics. It’s grudges that never die. You think someone won’t try to use you just to get to your brother?”
“If they want to try, let them,” LJ said, voice steady, eyes hard. “I’m not afraid of being a target. I’d rather be in the fight than watching from the sidelines.”
“You don’t have to bleed to belong to him,” Joan said gently. “You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” LJ said. “Not to him. Not to you. Not even to myself.”
He took a deep breath, letting it sit in his chest before he exhaled.
“But I am going to make a name. My name. Whether people respect it because of him—or fear it because of me.”
The room went quiet.
Rebecca looked at him then, really looked at him, like she was trying to memorize every inch before he walked out the door. She’d seen this look before—the same fire in a man she once loved, long before it ever turned to ash.
“I just don’t want you making peace with pain before you even leave home,” she said.
LJ walked over, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his forehead against the crowd of her head.
“I’ve already made peace with it, Mom,” he murmured. “Now I just need to make them feel it.”
----
“Fallout & Firestarters”
Last Week following Climax Control
The hallway outside the locker room was dim, the overhead lights buzzing faintly in that way that made every moment feel like it was teetering on the edge of something bigger. Footsteps echoed heavy down the concrete floor as LJ rounded the corner, the bruise still coloring the side of his jaw a dull yellow, a leftover souvenir from the hell he went through with Logan. He hadn’t even finished healing, and already the next storm was barreling his way.
He spotted them before they saw him—Miles, leaning against the wall with that eternally unreadable expression, arms crossed like he was holding himself back. Carter was beside him, still in gear, wiping the last of the sweat from his brow with a towel, his eyes cast low but seething.
LJ didn’t wait.
“The hell is this?” LJ’s voice cracked through the corridor like a whip.
Both men looked up. Miles straightened, eyebrows raised. Carter paused, wary.
“You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about,” LJ said, closing the distance. “Alex Jones going on national TV and saying he’s not just coming after Carter, but everything he loves? That includes me, doesn’t it? You think I missed that little implication?”
Miles opened his mouth, but LJ didn’t let him get a word out.
“I got the call. Next week. Avicii Arena in Stockholm. Main event. Me versus Alex fuckin’ Jones.” His voice dropped into a low, bitter laugh. “I just went through a war with Logan, and now I’m the lucky bastard being used as cannon fodder.”
Carter looked at him with a flicker of guilt behind his glare. “LJ—”
“No, Carter, I ain’t mad at you. You didn’t say that shit. He did. But I got one question—” LJ turned his attention squarely to Miles now, “—why the hell didn’t you step up when he made the threat?”
Miles tensed, his jaw ticking.
“I heard what he said, same as you,” Miles said evenly. “But this? This isn’t my battle.”
LJ took a step forward, his voice hard now, nearly shaking with the adrenaline coursing through him. “Bullshit.”
Carter raised a hand like he was about to intervene, but Miles held up his own to stop him.
“No. LJ’s pissed. Let him be.”
Miles turned to face his younger brother fully, his tone calm but firm—the big brother tone, the one that came with years of hard-fought patience.
“Yes, Alex has a problem with me. That’s not new. He’s been bitter since the last time I left him lying in a puddle of his own regrets. But this beef? The title? The obsession? That’s with Carter. Carter is the one chasing his gold. Carter is the one who got under his skin. I didn’t swing the hammer this time.”
“You think that matters to someone like Alex?” LJ shot back. “He’s not gonna care whose name is on the damn contract. He’s already throwing threats around like party favors and I’m the one who has to eat it first!”
“I know,” Miles said quietly. “And I hate that. I’d give a lot for another excuse to put my fist through his face. You know that.”
“Then why not now?!”
“Because it’s not my time. Not my place,” Miles snapped, louder than he meant to. He took a breath and lowered his voice. “If I go running in now, fists swinging, I let him win. I take the spotlight off Carter. Off you. I become exactly what Alex wants me to be: the distraction. I’m not doing that.”
The silence that followed was heavy. LJ turned away for a moment, rubbing his face with both hands, trying to process. He didn’t like it. Any of it. The fact that he was now a piece on someone else’s chessboard. The fact that his blood might be spilled just to send a message.
Carter spoke next, voice lower now. “I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want him to come after you.”
“I know,” LJ said quietly.
“And I’ll deal with him. In my own way. But I won’t lie—he’s gonna try and hurt you first. He wants to make a statement.”
“Then he better be ready for mine,” LJ said through clenched teeth. “He wants to use me to send a message? Fine. But I ain’t gonna break easy.”
Miles stepped forward now, putting a hand on LJ’s shoulder. “We’ll prepare. You’ve got me. You’ve got Carter. You’re not going into that ring blind. He may think he’s dealing with some kid just living in his brother’s shadow—but you’ve got fire, LJ. You’re not a pawn.”
LJ held his brother’s gaze, then nodded once.
“You’re damn right I’m not.”
-----
“If You Go to Hell, I’m Coming With You”
Present Day
The night outside the hotel window was a blanket of shadows broken only by the soft flickers of passing headlights and neon glow, painting faint lines across the floor. The city of Stockholm moved beneath them—restless, alive, cold. LJ stood by the window in nothing but a black T-shirt and sweats, arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked on a world that never stopped moving, even when his did.
Behind him, he could hear the low rustle of clothes being tossed into a suitcase. Ally had one boot on, one off. Her jacket slung over the back of the chair. She wasn’t even looking at him—not out of rudeness, but because she was focused. Always moving. Always chasing. Always burning.
He loved that about her.
But tonight… he needed her to slow down for a second.
“You got a minute?” he asked softly, not turning.
Ally paused, looked up from the bag, and set the second boot down. “Yeah. Of course.”
He turned then, and the weariness on his face was the kind that didn’t come from sleepless nights or stiff joints. This was emotional weight—the kind that settled in the chest and never quite let go.
“You and me both know what’s coming,” LJ said, walking over and perching on the edge of the bed. “Alex Jones isn’t just another match. This ain’t just another night. And I know what you’ve got going on too. You’re stretched. I see it.”
Ally opened her mouth to argue, but he lifted a hand to stop her.
“Don’t. I’m not accusing. I’m just saying… I’m not blind.” His voice stayed steady. “You’ve been carrying your own war. Day in, day out. And I know how heavy it is.”
She stepped toward him, quiet now, no excuses, no explanations—just listening.
LJ reached out and gently took her hand. “If you gotta go to hell to get what you want… if that’s what it takes… then I’m not about to sit back and let you do it alone.”
Ally’s breath caught, just a little.
“I’ll walk right into the fire with you,” he said. “And while I’m there? I’ll bring something back for myself too. You don’t have to carry the whole damn thing alone. We’re in this together.”
There was a tremor in the air between them. Not fear—understanding. Something deeper. Something forged in the scars they both carried.
“I don’t care how many people come after me ‘cause of who I am, or who I’m with, or who I love,” he went on. “Let Alex throw threats. Let him try and make examples outta us. He thinks he’s the only one who knows how to fight dirty? He ain’t met me when I’ve got something worth bleeding for.”
Ally didn’t say anything at first. She just sat beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. The weight of her body, the silence, the warmth—it all told him more than words ever could.
He tilted his head slightly, lips brushing her hair.
“I ain’t lettin’ go,” he whispered. “Not of you. Not of this. No matter how bad it gets.”
She finally spoke, voice low and hoarse. “Then we go through it together.”
He nodded, holding her hand tighter. “Together.”
----
“You Wanted My Attention? Now You’ve Got It.”
They said Stockholm was chilly even in spring, but inside Avicii Arena, there was fire in the halls.
The kind that burned behind the eyes of a man who had been pushed too far.
LJ sat alone in the dim hallway just off gorilla—hood up, hands taped, heart hammering like a war drum. He could hear the crowd out there, restless, waiting. They didn’t know it yet, but they were about to witness something raw. Something personal.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring straight ahead like he was looking through the wall.
"This was never supposed to be my problem,” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenching. “But then you made it one, Alex."
He stood, slowly. His breath steamed in the air as he pulled the hood down, sweat already beading at his temple despite not having wrestled a second yet. He turned to the camera crew that had been waiting on standby.
“Roll it.”
The red light blinked on.
And LJ stared straight into the lens like it was Alex Jones himself.
“You wanted to make this personal, right?” LJ said, voice low, steady—but sharp enough to cut glass. “You got your eyes locked on Carter, and you couldn’t just keep it to him. No… You had to puff your chest and threaten everything he loves. Which means now I’m in your line of sight. I’m not fucking stupid, Alex."
His lips curled into a bitter smirk.
"You think you're some master manipulator. The big bad leader of Wolfslair that was. You think that by saying a few words, you’ll get people dancing to your tune. But see, Alex… You don’t realize the game’s already passed you by. You ain’t the final boss no more. You’re the outdated end-level character hanging on ‘cause of name value. And news flash—name value doesn't scare me."
He took a step closer to the camera, finger jabbing toward the lens.
"And you’re probably thinking I'm just some tagalong? Miles' kid brother? Carter's in-law? The easy one to go after ‘cause I don't have a belt around my waist in THIS company or twenty years of main events under my belt?"
His voice rose now, laced with fire.
"Well I’ll tell you what...You're right about one thing—I don’t have your résumé. But I do have something else. Purpose. And you just gave me the one thing I needed to tear through you without a second of hesitation."
He paused, breath heavy, gaze dark.
"You don’t get to make threats without consequences, Alex. You don’t get to drag me into your vendetta and expect me to show up like a good little soldier. You drew that line in the sand, and I’m stepping over it. And Sunday? In Stockholm? In that ring? I’m coming for your neck."
Another step forward. Now there was no smirk, no sarcasm—just venom.
"Non-title or not… This innit about gold. This sure as fuck innit about rankings. This is about respect. You tried to spit on my family. You tried to draw blood without ever swinging."
He scoffed.
"You didn’t count on me showing up with a damn blade."
A beat passed. Silence like thunder.
Then, almost growling—
"You should’ve left me out of it."
He reached up, yanked his hood back over his head, and turned to walk down the hall toward the arena. But just before he disappeared through the curtain, he spoke once more, voice low and final.
"You wanted my attention, Alex? Now you’ve got it."