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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Supercard Archives => Topic started by: SCW Staff on April 19, 2026, 07:51:39 PM
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Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!
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[Off Camera: Hendrix Compound]
[Week Before Kasey vs Raven]
(Brandon Hendrix finished up his Parking Lot Brawl, cleaning up a cut on his head making sure the blood was gone when on the TV was LJ Kasey getting told he will be challenging Alexander Raven for the SCW World Heavyweight Championship the last Climax Control before Into The Void, and if LJ wins, then the Hendrix versus Kasey match will become a World Championship match. Brandon has been clawing at becoming a two time World Champion, and now he was ready to make that happen. At that moment, Angelo walked into the locker room, with a pleased look on his face.)
Angelo Caito: You see the news?
Brandon Hendrix: Just did. You know what this means, right?
Angelo Caito: Yeah, means LJ needs to actually win and not fuck this entire opportunity up.
Brandon Hendrix: No. I know he can't do it. Anytime the bitch gets into a high stakes match, he can never in his life. I'll make sure he steps into Japan as the World Heavyweight Champion. What was it now? December 2024 when I stepped into Osaka, Japan and won my first World Championship?
Angelo Caito: Probably. You know my ten concussions make remembering that far back is challenging for me. But I do remember when you won. Greatest moment in your entire career.
Brandon Hendrix: It's time to revisit the feeling. It's time to capture the gold, Angelo. And I'll be damned if that piss ant LJ ruins that for me.
(Angelo nods and places a hand on the shoulder of Brandon before walking out of the locker room.)
[During Raven vs Kasey]
(Alexander had control of LJ, and that's when Brandon stuck his nose into the match, and he took a shot that sent him off the edge of the ring, but when he landed on his feet, he shifted and started holding his back. LJ went on to lose the match, thus making Brandon versus Kasey match at the event not for a championship.)
[After Raven vs Kasey- At The Hendrix Compound]
(Brandon is in the gym of Hendrix Compound, banging the weights around when suddenly, his body stiffens, he drops the weights, and he drops to his knees as he holds his back.)
Brandon Hendrix: FUCK! ANGELO! HELP!
(To Be Continued)
[On Camera: Lethal]
Brandon Hendrix: What is there to say to you, LJ? Given the biggest opportunity of your life, and you failed again. You had the chance to not only become the SCW World Heavyweight Champion and turn our match into a main event World Heavyweight Championship match. You had the opportunity in the palm of your hands to finish the story that I've been telling since I returned to SCW, long before I even attacked you. Become World Champion once again. That's been the goal since I signed the contract. You had the opportunity to stop me personally from achieving that goal. You could have done something far worse than anything I've done to you. Ruin my dream of becoming SCW World Heavyweight Champion. My love for being World Champion is larger than any love you've given that old slut you call wifey. And you could have crushed it by walking into this show and walking out SCW World Champion by somehow, some way, beating me in the main event and leaving me to possibly quit like everyone is expecting at this point. But you couldn't even win the fucking thing in order to get us to a high pay grade match. The story of your fucking life, LJ.
You couldn't get the job done in the big matches ever.
Me, Raven, and your biggest defeat of all….
Your own fucking self.
I never noticed it until I watched everything you said when you went on about Raven and this match. Your mouth told us one story, but your eyes and your body told us you're scared of the limelight. You're scared to be in this position that I've put you in with going after you. You talk too big for yourself to not show for it when it matters. I told you before and I meant it when I said that you didn't need anything else in the world to make you a somebody because I was going to make you a somebody. And I thought after our street fight I had turned you into the man who finally ends my career when everyone else has said they would. That I would make you into a bad motherfucker, but like normal, you couldn't capitalize on it and you are the same pathetic loser you were when I first beat you down. You're still the same pathetic parasite that let his personal feelings interfere with a match, which cost you a could have been win against me.
But you stand here and tell me you're built different now, right?
Why?
Because you are a Kasey?
(Brandon chuckles a bit.)
Brandon Hendrix: But the only thing you're built like is a confused little hairless, albino stick with a mop on your head. You're not built for the big times, let alone the minor leagues. Hell, the only time you're built for something is carrying your whore's bags. Between you and your brother, I know that you're the one most people are disappointed in. You're the one that people feel ashamed of. Hell, you're the one that people wished got the Plan B instead of others.
And judging by how my stock drops facing you, I wished your parents did too.
And speaking of facing you, I gave you the opportunity to pick the match we are in and instead of being a man and telling me to my face, you run off and tell management to keep me in suspense. But it's all good, because it's Lethal Lockdown. And I did promise that no matter what, my family will not interfere in the match because I know that I can beat you without them, but will you hold your end of the bargain because I know how desperate you are to beat me. I hope that I'm right because then the real LJ Kasey will come out. Not the one we see now, but the one that is deep down in every man. The evil bastard that will do anything and everything to take what they want. When that LJ comes out and you win all the championships and get all the money you ever dreamed of, then you'd look back and thank me now.
But for now, we have to get locked down. And we're treating this lockdown like it's prison time. Two men step inside that metal cage like it's a cell and nobody leaves until one cannot get up. There will be blood, there will be skin peeling off our bodies, there will be bones broken. This will be worse than the street fight and I promise you a side of me that you've never seen before. You thought the street fight was a vicious side of me? No no. This is about to be a Saint Valentines Day Massacre in modern times. Lockdown, I'm going to bring us to the yard and kick your fucking teeth in.
Lockdown. I'm going to beat you down and leave you bleeding out.
Lockdown. I'm going to make you my bitch.
LJ, say goodbye because this… could be the end of both of us. I said goodbye to my little girl. Hardest thing I've ever done. Now, it's your turn to say goodbye to anybody you'd love. And don't worry about it, because I'll have Angelo send roses to your grave as a reminder of why you're gone.
Prega il tuo Dio affinché tu abbia un posto in Paradiso, perché, con tutte le stelle che stanno morendo, potrebbe far precipitare la tua dritta all'Inferno, insieme a me.
(Scene ends.)
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SCW EXTRA
Climax Control
Backstage, Gorilla Position
The curtain snapped back into place behind him with a dull, heavy thud, like the end of something that didn’t quite feel finished. Out there, the crowd was still alive, still loud. And still riding the high of what they’d just seen. The kind of noise that followed a war, not just a match. It bled faintly through the walls, through the structure of the building itself, but back here it didn’t carry the same energy.
Back here, everything slowed down. Production voices cut through the air in quick bursts, camera calls, headset chatter, stagehands moving equipment with practiced urgency. People moved around LJ Kasey like he was both part of the system and completely separate from it at the same time. A few looks his way, a few nods of respect, quiet and unspoken.
He walked through it without acknowledging any of it. Not because he didn’t notice because he didn’t need to. Ally stayed beside him, matching his pace step for step, close enough that her presence was constant but not intrusive. Her hand brushed lightly against his arm once, then again when they slowed for a moment near the edge of Gorilla.
He didn’t look at her, but he leaned into it just slightly. That was enough. He didn’t look like a man who had just come up short in the biggest match of his career. That was the thing. He had no limp, no dramatic frustration, no pacing, no hands on his head, no shouting into the void. His breathing was steady, his posture straight, his expression controlled in a way that almost looked too calm. But it wasn’t empty, it was contained. The kind of control that only comes when something matters enough that you refuse to let it spill out in front of everyone else. As they moved past a stack of production crates, LJ’s eyes flicked to the side and that’s when he saw them.
Miles and Carter.
They weren’t standing front and center like they were waiting to make a moment out of it. They were off to the side, seated near the wall, half in the flow of traffic and half outside of it. Like they’d been there long enough to not look like they were waiting, even though they clearly were.
Carter was the first to shift when he saw LJ. He stood, pushing off his knees, posture already reading the situation before a word was spoken. Miles followed a second later, slower, but with that same focus locked in. LJ didn’t stop, he just angled toward them naturally, like it was the most obvious path in the world.
Carter stepped forward first. “That,” he said, voice even but firm, “was one hell of a fight.”
There was no exaggeration, no pity, just truth like it always was between them all. LJ let out a small breath through his nose, something that almost passed for a laugh if you didn’t listen too closely.
“Yeah,” he replied, rolling one shoulder slightly. “Would’ve preferred a different ending.”
Carter’s mouth twitched faintly, like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He didn’t need to.
Miles stepped in next. There was no hesitation there either. He pulled LJ into a quick embrace, solid and grounding, the kind that didn’t ask for permission because it didn’t need it.
“Proud of you,” Miles said quietly, just loud enough for LJ to hear and no one else.
For a split second, LJ didn’t respond, didn’t move and then his hand came up, brief and firm against Miles’ back before they separated.
He nodded once, he didn’t say thank you or even brush it off. He just accepted it.
Ally’s hand squeezed his arm gently again, and this time LJ did glance at her. There was something softer in his eyes for that moment alone, something that didn’t belong to the arena or the match or the weight of what just happened.
“I’m gonna steal Carter for a minute,” she said, her voice light but purposeful, already giving them space without making it awkward.
Carter gave a half-smile. “I’ve survived worse.”
LJ huffed quietly, nodding. “Yeah. Go on.”
She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, fast, subtle, but enough and then she and Carter stepped off to the side, giving the brothers room without making it feel like they were being left behind.
For a moment, it was just LJ and Miles. No noise or rush, just that shared space where neither of them felt the need to fill the silence immediately.
LJ shifted his weight, glancing briefly toward the curtain behind them, then back again. “Well,” he said finally, tone casual in a way that was just a little too intentional, “Good news, yeah?”
Miles raised an eyebrow, already knowing there was something coming. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” LJ replied, lips pulling into a faint smirk. “You don’t have to worry about facing me for that title anytime soon.”
There it was, the deflection and the humor. The thing LJ reached for when he didn’t feel like unpacking everything sitting under the surface.
Miles let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
That brought a shrug to LJ’s shoulders, “I try.”
“You just went toe-to-toe with the fuckin’ World Champion,” Miles said, stepping a little closer, his tone shifting just enough to cut through the joke. “And that’s what you’ve got?”
LJ shrugged lightly, like it didn’t matter. “I’m just saying,” he continued, gesturing vaguely. “Your big Title for Title moment? Still intact. No awkward family drama. No headlines about us tearing each other apart before you even get your shot.... You’re welcome.”
Miles laughed again, but this time it wasn’t just amusement. There was something warmer in it. Something that said he understood exactly what LJ was doing, and wasn’t going to let him hide behind it. “Mate,” he said, shaking his head, “If that’s your takeaway from tonight, you weren’t paying attention.”
That landed and you could tell as LJ’s smirk faltered just slightly, not gone, but less solid.
“Raven didn’t walk through you,” Miles continued. “He didn’t outclass you. He didn’t make you look like you didn’t belong. He survived you.”
LJ didn’t respond immediately. His jaw shifted slightly, his eyes flicking away for a second before coming back. “...Still didn’t get it done,” he said.
“No,” Miles agreed, without hesitation. “You didn’t.”
One thing that can be said about the Kasey Brothers, there was no cushioning, sugarcoating any shit between them. It was just honesty.
“But that doesn’t mean what you think it means.” LJ looked at him properly now as Miles shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Sometimes not getting it done just means it wasn’t your moment yet. Doesn’t mean you don’t belong in it.”
LJ exhaled slowly, that tension in his chest easing just enough to let something else take its place, perspective. “…Yeah,” he muttered.
Miles watched him for a second longer, then smirked slightly. “And for the record?” he added.
LJ glanced up.
“Someday,” Miles said, “We’re probably gonna have to have it out.”
Between them was no hostility, no ego, just the inevitability of what this business does.
LJ’s expression shifted again—this time into something sharper, something more like himself.
“Yeah?” he replied.
Miles nodded. “Yeah. And I’m looking forward to it when it does happen.”
That earned a real reaction. A genuine grin, small but undeniable. “Course you are,” LJ said.
“Course I am.”
The moment settled between them, easy and familiar in a way that had nothing to do with titles or matches or pressure. Just the two of them, brothers.
Then LJ rolled his shoulders again, like he was resetting something internally, letting the last of the match fall away.
“Right,” he muttered. “Can’t stand around all night.”
Miles raised an eyebrow. “No?”
LJ’s expression shifted, not dramatic and instead focused. “I’ve got another problem to deal with.”
Miles didn’t need clarification. “Ah, yeah...Hendrix.”
LJ nodded once. “Yeah.”
Miles stepped in just enough to clap him on the shoulder. “Then go deal with it.”
LJ took a breath, “Yeah,” he said. “That’s the plan.”
He glanced over toward Ally again. She was already looking at him, like she’d been tracking him the whole time without making it obvious.
Of course she had. He gave her a small nod, she returned it instantly. That was all they needed.
LJ looked back at Miles one last time. “…Thanks,” he said.
Miles smirked. “Go on.”
And LJ did, he turned and walked, not rushed, not dragging, just moving forward with purpose. The match with Raven was over, the opportunity had come and gone. But as he moved deeper into the backstage maze, there was no sense of something ending, only something shifting.
Because tonight hadn’t proven he couldn’t hang at the top.
It proved he already did.
And now? There was someone else waiting for him. And this time, it wasn’t about proving anything.
It was about finishing it.
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SECOND SEMESTER PRESSURE
Boyd School of Law
Professor Roth’s Office
Las Vegas
The office wasn’t intimidating on purpose. That was the problem. No towering shelves meant to overwhelm. No dramatic lighting or heavy desk designed to create distance. Just a clean, organized space, casebooks stacked with intention, framed degrees on the wall, and a desk that looked like work actually got done there.
Which meant when you got called in? It wasn’t for show. It was because it mattered.
LJ stood just inside the doorway for half a second before stepping in fully, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Professor Roth didn’t look up immediately. He finished jotting something down on a legal pad, then set his pen aside and leaned back slightly in his chair.
“Mr. Kasey,” he said, calm as ever. “Please, have a seat.”
LJ did, dropping into the chair across from the desk without hesitation, posture relaxed but attentive, not defensive, not casual either.
Roth studied him for a moment, not harshly, not skeptically. Instead he was assessing him.
“I’ll get straight to it,” Roth said. “You’ve been...busy.”
That pulled the faintest smirk out of LJ. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Roth didn’t return it. “I’ve reviewed your attendance,” he continued, “Your submission timestamps, and your performance metrics across LRW and Civil Procedure. And I’m trying to reconcile something.”
LJ leaned back slightly, folding his hands loosely in his lap. “What’s that?”
Roth tilted his head just a fraction. “You’ve been out of the country,” he said. “Multiple times. Extended travel, a whole lot of different time zones. Public commitments that, based on what I’ve seen, are not exactly low-effort. And yet....your work hasn’t slipped.”
Not a question but it was an observation. LJ didn’t answer immediately. He just held Roth’s gaze.
“So,” Roth continued, “I want to be very clear about why you’re here.”
He leaned forward slightly now.
“This isn’t a reprimand.” That got LJ’s attention more than anything else. “It’s a concern,” Roth added.
There it was.
“Because what you’re doing right now?” Roth said, tapping a finger lightly against the desk, “It’s sustainable....until it isn’t.”
Silence settled for a moment.
“You’re juggling two full-time demands,” he went on. “And one of them doesn’t care about deadlines, structure, or academic expectations. The other does.”
LJ exhaled slowly through his nose, then shifted forward slightly in his seat. “With respect,” he said, tone even, controlled, “It hasn’t affected my work.”
Roth didn’t interrupt.
“I haven’t missed a submission,” LJ continued. “I haven’t fallen behind on reading. I haven’t slipped on performance.”
He tilted his head slightly. “If anything....I’ve gotten sharper.”
That hung there.
Roth watched him closely. “You believe that?”
“I know that,” LJ replied without hesitation. “When I’m on the road, I don’t have time to waste. There’s no margin for it.”
His voice didn’t rise, but there was something firmer underneath it now.
“I prep on flights. I read in hotel rooms. I outline between training sessions.” A faint shrug. “I don’t get the luxury of putting things off.”
Roth’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted. “You’re saying the pressure helps,” he said.
“I’m saying it forces discipline,” LJ corrected. “And discipline doesn’t care where I am.”
Roth leaned back again, folding his hands together. “You understand why I’d question it,” he said.
“Of course I do,” LJ replied. “Most people don’t try to do both.”
“Most people wouldn’t succeed at both.”
LJ didn’t smile. “Most people aren’t me.”
There wasn’t arrogance in it, just certainty. Silence stretched for a moment, not uncomfortable, just measured.
Roth nodded slowly. “That much,” he admitted, “Is becoming increasingly difficult to argue against.”
LJ let out a quiet breath, tension easing just slightly in his shoulders.
“But,” Roth added, and there it was, “This isn’t just about whether you can keep up.”
LJ’s eyes narrowed a fraction.
“It’s about whether something eventually gives. Because when it does....law school doesn’t wait for you to catch up.”
LJ leaned forward again, resting his forearms lightly on his knees. “It won’t have to,” he said.
Roth held his gaze. “That’s confidence.”
“I like to think of it as preparation. I don’t walk into anything unprepared,” LJ added. “Not a match. Not a class. Not this.”
He gestured lightly between them.
“If that ever changes? Then we’ve got a problem.”
Roth studied him for a long moment. Then, finally, he nodded. “…Alright.”
LJ didn’t move.
“I’m not going to tell you to stop,” Roth said. “Because clearly, that’s not going to happen.”
A faint hint of something almost resembling humor touched the corner of his mouth.
“Correct.”
“But I am going to tell you this,” Roth continued, tone sharpening just slightly. “The margin for error in this program is thin.”
He leaned forward again.
“And you’re choosing to operate without one. That’s either going to make you exceptional...Or it’s going to catch up to you.”
LJ stood slowly, adjusting his jacket as he did. “I’ll take those odds,” he said.
Roth watched him for a second longer, then gave a small nod. “I figured you would.”
LJ turned toward the door, hand already on the handle.
“Mr. Kasey.” He paused, glancing back. “…Keep proving me wrong,” Roth said.
That earned the smallest smirk.
“Planning on it.”
And with that, LJ stepped out into the hallway, the door closing quietly behind him. The noise of the law school returned immediately, students talking, footsteps echoing, the normal rhythm of a place that demanded everything from the people inside it.
LJ adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and started walking.
Europe hadn’t slowed him down, Japan wouldn’t either because as far as he was concerned?
There was no version of this where he picked one life over the other.
He just got better at carrying both.
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NO MORE ROOM FOR ERROR
Las Vegas
Nightfall
The Strip was alive like it always was. Lights bleeding into the sky, traffic crawling, people laughing like nothing in the world could touch them. It was loud, chaotic, alive in a way that never stopped. The kind of place where distractions came easy.
LJ Kasey stood above it all.
Not on a rooftop this time. Not leaning on a ledge like he needed something to hold him up. Just standing on a quiet parking structure overlooking the city, hoodie half-zipped, the wind pulling at the fabric like it was trying to get a reaction out of him.
It didn’t.
The camera adjusted slightly as he stepped forward into frame, Vegas glowing behind him like a backdrop that didn’t matter. He didn’t pace, he didn’t posture, he just looked into the lens and let his eyes do the tone setting.
And for a second? He said nothing.
“....I’ve watched it back.”
His voice was calm. Too calm.
“The match. The ending. The part where you decided you couldn’t beat me....so you made sure I couldn’t beat you either.”
A slow breath in through his nose.
“I’ve watched it enough times to know exactly where it went wrong.”
His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing, not in confusion, but in clarity.
“And here’s the part that’s been eating at me all week, Brandon…It wasn’t that you were better.”
Another step forward.
“It wasn’t that you out-fought me. It wasn’t that you out-thought me.”
His jaw tightened.
“It’s that you took something that was supposed to be a fight and you turned it into an escape route.”
The wind kicked up, but LJ didn’t move with it.
“You didn’t win that match,” he said flatly. “You survived it by calling in your boys... and by making sure it never finished properly.”
His eyes sharpened now, something colder settling in.
“And for a while? That bothered me because I kept thinking I made a mistake. I kept thinking I missed something. I kept thinking there was a moment where I could’ve stopped you from doing what you did.”
He shook his head once.
“…Nah.”
Another step closer. The camera subtly adjusting to keep him centered.
“The truth is? The only mistake I made…”
His voice dropped.
“…was thinking you wanted a fight in the first place.” Silence stretched for just a second before he continued. “You don’t want a fight, Hendrix.”
His lip curled faintly.
“You want control.”
He tapped his chest once.
“You want things messy enough that you can hide in it. You want just enough chaos that when things go wrong, you’ve got an out. You want angles, timing, interference, anything that keeps you from having to stand there and deal with someone who won’t break the way you expect them to. That’s who you are.”
His voice didn’t rise, It didn’t need to.
“And I let you have that last time.”
There it was. Ownership.
One thing that can be said is that LJ left no room for bullshit excuses let alone deflection.
“I let you drag it into your kind of fight.” His shoulders squared. “That’s not happening again. And then you went and you gave me control of the stipulation...you gifted me a chance to even the playing field.”
A faint, humorless smirk.
“Thought that was clever, didn’t you?”
He nodded once, like he was acknowledging it.
“Thought you were playing chess. Thought you were putting me in a position where I’d pick something emotional. Something reckless. Something that gives you another way out.”
His eyes locked in.
“You don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do.”
He takes another step to the point that there is now there’s no distance left between him and the lens.
“So let me make this very, very clear…” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “There is no room for error this time.”
Each word dropped is deliberate.
“There will be no distractions, no interference and no ‘wrong place, wrong time.’ No convenient chaos of your posse randomly showing up for you to disappear into. You don’t get to run this one.”
His expression hardened fully now.
“You don’t get to twist it. You don’t get to survive it.”
The city noise faded behind the weight of what he was saying.
“Because I’ve already done the part where I question myself.”
His eyes didn’t move.
“I’ve already done the part where I sit with it and figure out what went wrong. And now?”
A slight shake of his head.
“Now there’s nothing left to figure out.”
He stepped back once, just enough space to breathe, but not enough to break the intensity.
“You wanted my attention? You got it. You wanted a war? You got that too.”
His tone sharpened—not louder, just cutting.
“But what you don’t understand yet...is that I don’t need perfect conditions to beat you.”
He spread his hands slightly.
“I just needed to make sure you don’t have any. So next week in Osaka... when we step into that ring...”
He tilted his head slightly.
“…you’re not walking in with an advantage.”
Another step back.
“You’re walking in with nothing.”
His voice dropped one last time.
“And I’m walking in knowing exactly who you are.”
A faint, dangerous smirk crept in.
“And that’s a problem for you.”
He turned then, no dramatic exit, no looking back, just walking off into the Vegas night like the outcome was already decided.
The camera lingered a second longer on the empty space he left behind.
-
Before the Storm
Osaka, Japan
Evening
Osaka felt alive in a way that was different from Vegas. Vegas shouted at you where Osaka invited you in.
The streets glowed with warm light instead of harsh neon, paper lanterns swaying gently above narrow walkways lined with small shops and tucked-away restaurants. The air smelled like grilled meat, sweet sauces, and something LJ couldn’t quite place but immediately decided he liked.
People moved around them in a steady rhythm, couples, families, tourists pausing to take photos, everyone wrapped up in their own little worlds. And for once....
LJ wasn’t being watched.
He walked beside Ally at an easy pace, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed in a way they rarely were during a fight week. Ally, on the other hand, was quieter than usual. She wasn’t distant or cold, in fact she had herself tucked tightly against him like she would stop living if she was separated from him but you could tell there was something off.
Like she was just... thinking. LJ noticed it without looking at her directly. He always did.
“…You’ve been quiet,” he said after a few steps, tone light.
Ally hummed softly, like she’d been caught somewhere mid-thought. “I’m allowed to be quiet.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he replied, glancing over with a faint smirk. “Just usually means something’s going on up here.”
He tapped his own temple.
She sighed softly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet always accurate,” he said immediately.
That got a breath of a laugh out of her, but it didn’t last long. The quiet slipped back in, settling between them again. LJ slowed slightly, turning his head just enough to actually look at her this time.
“…It’s the match.”
It wasn’t a question and Ally didn’t answer right away. They walked a few more steps before she finally nodded.
“I hate it,” she admitted, voice low, honest. “I know I shouldn’t say that, and I know this is your job and I know you’re good at it but....”
She stopped herself, exhaling through her nose.
“I saw what he did to you.”
There it was. It wasn’t fear but instead a memory.
LJ’s jaw shifted just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.
“And now it’s... that,” she added, gesturing vaguely, like the words Lethal Lockdown didn’t even deserve to be spoken out loud. “A cage, with no rules and no way out and even after everything that happened the last time...no backup.”
Her eyes flicked to him.
“I’m trying not to think about it, babe. I really am. But every time I do…”
She trailed off and she didn’t need to finish to know where she was going with it.
LJ nodded once, slow. “Yeah.”
He wasn’t going to deny it and he sure as hell wasn’t going to brush it off. Instead he just acknowledged the severity of the issue.
They walked a few more steps in silence before he spoke again, “You trust me, right?”
She looked at him immediately, almost offended by the question. “Of course I do.”
He gave a small shrug. “Then trust that I know exactly what I’m walking into.”
Her expression softened, but the worry didn’t disappear, itt just shifted. “I do,” she said quietly. “That’s the part that scares me. I do this too ya know.”
That made him stop but not dramatically. Just enough that she took one more step before realizing he wasn’t beside her anymore. She turned back to him. He was already looking at her.
“Hey,” he said, softer now. “I’m not walking into this to prove something stupid. I’m walking into it to finish something that shouldn’t have started the way it did and then I walk back out.”
He didn’t say if. He didn’t need to.
Ally studied him for a moment, searching for something, doubt, hesitation, anything. She didn’t find it. “…Okay,” she said finally, quieter this time.
LJ held her gaze for another second, then, just like that, something shifted. Not in the moment but in him. The tension eased, the seriousness broke.
“…Right,” he said, clapping his hands together once. “That’s enough of that.”
Ally blinked. “Enough of what?”
“Doom and gloom,” he replied, already turning and starting to walk again. “We’re not doing that all night.”
She followed, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Oh, we’re not?”
“Nope.” He glanced over at her, grin starting to creep in. “We’ve got far more important things to figure out.”
That tone immediately made her suspicious. “…Like what?”
LJ looked completely serious for about half a second. “…Our first dance.”
She stopped walking. “…Our what?”
“Our first dance,” he repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re doing this whole big wedding with the ring. I mean...it is a whole thing. You said yes, remember?”
She stared at him. “You’re thinking about that now?”
“Timing’s important,” he said, nodding. “And I’ve realized something very crucial.”
“Oh God.”
He held up a finger. “I refuse, fully refuse to do some boring, slow, awkward shuffle while everyone stares at us like we’re about to cry.”
She crossed her arms, already fighting a smile. “So what’s your brilliant alternative?”
LJ didn’t hesitate. “‘Mr. Brightside.’”
She blinked. “…No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s not a first dance song, LJ!”
“I disagree,” he said immediately. “It’s iconic. It’s emotional. It’s got range.”
“It’s about jealousy and paranoia!”
“Those are the minute details, angel,” he waved off. “We’ll spin it.”
She laughed despite herself. “Absolutely not.”
“Alright, fine,” he said, nodding like he was making a serious concession. “We go the other direction.”
She braced herself.
“…We open with something classy,” he continued, “and then halfway through, boom, music cuts....”
Her eyes widened. “Oh no.”
“And we break into a fully choreographed routine.”
“Lyle.”
“I’m talking lifts, spins....”
“Lyle.”
“And maybe a bit of Dirty Dancing energy....”
“LYLE AUGUSTUS!.” He stopped, grinning like an idiot and she was laughing now, shaking her head. “You’re insane.”
“I believe the term you are looking for love is ‘Visionary’,” he corrected.
She stepped closer, nudging him lightly. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m deadly serious,” he said, though the smile never left his face. “Imagine it. Crowd loses their minds. My mums are confused, my brother’s judging me. You wanna talk about an absolutely perfect moment.”
She covered her face with one hand, laughing into it. “This is what you choose to focus on right now.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Because I’d much rather argue about terrible music choices with my fiancée than listen to you stress yourself into a headache.”
That slowed her down, not physically but emotionally. She lowered her hand, looking at him again.
Really looking this time.
“…You’re trying to distract me.”
He shrugged.
“A bit of both honestly,” he admitted. “Distract you... remind you... we’ve got more than just one night to worry about.”
Her expression softened completely now. The tension didn’t vanish but it loosened. “…For the record,” she said, slipping her hand into his, “We’re not dancing to Mr. Brightside.”
“That is completely negotiable.”
“It’s not.”
“Alright,” he sighed dramatically. “But I’m still pitching the choreography.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Of course you are.”
They kept walking, hands linked, disappearing deeper into the streets of Osaka as the lights flickered around them and the noise of the city carried on.
For a little while longer, it wasn’t about cages or fights or even the pain.
It was just them.
------------------------
Let’s Get Lethal
OSAKA, JAPAN
UNIVERSAL STUDIOS JAPAN
The camera doesn’t rush to find him, instead it pans around and catches the world first.
Neon reflections ripple across wet pavement from a recent drizzle. The distant hum of rides blends with laughter, music, and the occasional metallic roar of something launching into the night sky. Bright colors everywhere. Chaos, packaged as entertainment. Controlled madness.
And then, LJ Kasey steps into frame. Dark jeans. Black jacket. Hands loosely at his sides. The glow of the park lights catches his face just enough to show it, calm, steady, but there’s something underneath it now. Something sharpened.
He lets the noise exist around him without reacting to it.
Then he looks into the camera, and speaks, “We sure picked a hell of a place for this one, didn’t we, Brandon?”
A glance over his shoulder at the rides, the lights, the artificial chaos behind him.
“All these bright lights and loud noises. Everything moving at once… looks like chaos, feels like chaos… but every single piece of it?”
He taps his temple lightly.
“Planned, timed and every inch of it is controlled.”
His eyes return to the lens.
“And that’s the part you still don’t understand. You’ve had a lot to say lately.”
A faint exhale.
“About how I failed.”
A small nod, accepting it.
“How I had the biggest opportunity of my life… and I didn’t get it done. You will hear no excuses from me.”
He doesn’t flinch.
“I came up short.”
Silence hangs for a moment, not awkward, just honest and then his gaze hardens.
“But here’s the part you don’t get to twist into your little victory speech...I stepped into that ring with the World Champion and I fought him straight up.”
His voice tightens just slightly.
“I had no shortcuts, no cheap shots and not one single soul jumping in to save me when things got difficult. I had my shot ...and I took it.”
Now there’s something colder behind the words.
“You?”
A faint, humorless smirk flickers.
“You’ve done fuck-all since you came back except run your mouth, jump people from behind and try, emphasis on try, to push me around and my whole entire family as well.”
He lets that sit and lets it simmer and sting.
“You keep acting like you’re some unstoppable force, some big bad problem nobody’s solved yet...”
A slow shake of his head.
“Mate... you’re not a problem. You’re a pattern. And patterns? They get figured out. I do love how you said that I can’t win the big matches when in fact in my time here, I have had at best 2 of them. I haven’t had a chance at the Roulette or the Internet.”
A breath through his nose.
“And a funny thing about that…” His eyes lock in tighter.
“Even on my worst night? You still couldn’t beat me clean. You needed help. You needed timing. You needed everything to fall perfectly into place just to survive me.”
His jaw tightens.
“And you’re standing there... talking about how I’m the failure? That’s absolutely embarrassing, mate....for you, not for me. You also said something else I found interesting…”
A slight tilt of his head.
“That you made me.”
For the first time, there’s the hint of a smile, but it’s not friendly.
“Not even in the fucking slightest.”
A single shake of the head.
“You didn’t make me. You exposed me.”
His voice lowers, sharper now.
“You showed me exactly how far people are willing to go when they can’t win the right way....And everything you’ve done since? That just sharpened me. You keep waiting for me to snap…”
He taps his temple again.
“To lose control. To become that ‘evil bastard’ you keep talking about. Let me make this real simple for you. I don’t need to lose control to hurt you. I do it better when I’m in control and all that crap you were saying about my family? You don’t get under my skin by running your mouth about them. You just make it worse for yourself. Because now? It’s not just business anymore. You want to talk about what I’m built for? You think I’m scared of the spotlight because I don’t scream like you do?”
A shake of the head.
“You confuse volume with strength. ou confuse chaos with control and that’s going to cost you. Because now we’re heading into Lethal Lockdown.”
He lets the name hang in the air.
“I made sure that there was no running, no interference...despite your supposed promises of that. I made sure that no one will jump in at the last second to save your.sorry ass.”
A faint smirk creeps back.
“You wanted that, remember? But that warning remains, if anyone gets a solitary sniff of your crew showing up, it’s on ON SITE and you better fucking believe that it’s more than just people I share blood with or a name with....fucking try it. But it’s how you wanted it....”
A small spread of his hands.
“Congratulations.”
“I will say that I love how you keep calling this a war. Wars are messy and costly and it seems like you are in a war of your own making that may possibly cost you...and me...everything.”
His head tilts slightly.
“But this thing between us? This isn’t messy anymore. This is controlled...not by you. So let’s list how you put this: You said there’s going to be blood.”
A small nod comes as he’s counting on his hand.
“You said there’s going to be bones breaking.”
Another nod with another finger out.
“You said this might be the end of both of us.”
A quiet breath.
“Thanks for stating the obvious of the blood and the bones... my poor fiancee has to cope with the fact that she may have to deal with her future husband stitched like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas BUT...let me make something clear to you, bruv....This is the end of you pretending you’re untouchable. You had your big return with all of that hype and all of that noise. And what have you actually done with it?”
“Because from where I’m standing?”
A slight tilt of the head.
“You haven’t built jack shit and you sure as hell haven’t proven anything.”
His voice sharpens.
“You’ve just been circling me like some God damn blood vulture, hoping I break before you have to prove you can actually finish something. And here’s the part you really need to hear, Brandon…”
The noise of Universal fades behind him.
“I don’t need momentum. I don’t need perfect conditions. I don’t need help.”
His eyes burn into the lens.
“I just need you locked in that cage with me....with nowhere left to run.
“You wanted to hurt me? You did. There no denial there. You wanted to make a statement? You did that too.”
Silence fills the air and then his voice drops, quieter.
“Now it’s my turn. At Into The Void in Osaka… There are no distractions. No excuses.And the best thing of all....No escape.”
His expression doesn’t change, but the weight behind it does.
“You don’t have to say goodbye to anybody, Brandon.”
A slight tilt of his head.
“I’m not ending your life. I’m ending the version of you that thinks you can get away with murder and not have to face the consequences of when you screwed with me.”
He turns slightly, already done but then he stops with one last look over his shoulder. His blue eyes cold and unshakable.
“And mate... when that cage closes? You’re finally going to understand the difference....between starting something....and finishing it.”
LJ turns and walks off into the glow of the park, disappearing into the controlled chaos as the lights flicker and the noise swells behind him.
The camera lingers, just a second longer.
Then cuts to black.
-
[Continued…….]
[Off Camera]
(After The Work Out- Taking Place In The Hendrix Compound)
Doctor: He has a slipped disc in his back. Looks like his L4-L5 disc.
Angelo Caito: Can he wrestle with it?
Doctor: No. If he steps into a ring, he can be at risk of permanent damage and being paralyzed. You need to tell whomever you work for that you cannot compete.
Angelo Caito: Alright…. Thank you, doctor.
(The doctor nods and steps out of the room in Hendrix's Compound. Angelo sighs and turns to Brandon, who hasn't said a word nor moved from looking at the ground after hearing that news.)
Angelo Caito: Well?
Brandon Hendrix: You know I'm competing, right?
Angelo Caito: I do. And that's why I always call you the bravest yet dumbest person I ever knew.
Brandon Hendrix: I'm a man, not a pussy like others.
Angelo Caito: Fair enough. You know what this means, right?
Brandon Hendrix: Beat LJ down and take no attacks. I know.
Angelo Caito: You know, but can you? No, you won't. Just let us come with you to ringsi-
Brandon Hendrix: No.
Angelo Caito: Brandon, you're not thinking straight. That's why I'm making the de-
Brandon Hendrix; No the fuck you're not! This is my match and I'll be damned if anyone ruins this for me! You guys will stay in the back until my match is over. End of discussion. Got it!?
Angelo Caito: …….. fine. But when you can't walk, don't forget this conversation.
(Angelo shakes his head and leaves the room too, leaving Brandon alone to his thoughts and decisions.)
[On Camera]
Brandon Hendrix; Revenge can be an evil game, with whom the Revenge falls into the hands can make it for the right or for the better need. Now, which hand will Revenge fall into for you, LJ? The hand of good? Or the hand of evil? Want me to tell you what you will do? You'll pick good. You'll fight to defend the honor of your fiancée. To defend the honor of yourself for what I've done to you. To honor your family for all the bad things I said about you, and with your good boy performance, hope and pray you can bring me to the promised land and bring me back to being a good guy.
Now let me tell you what you should do with that Revenge.
The Evil Revenge.
Destroy me, LJ. Forget everyone that we have involved and think about yourself. Come on Lyle, you know that I'm in your way of moving on in your career and I won't stop till you're out of my way. And that's the same mindset you need to think about when it comes to the future of your career. You know first hand, I'm a bad person. I'm an evil person. And the demise that an evil man like me deserves is to be killed in that ring by the man he wronged. But you won't, Lyle because you are weak. You are pathetic. You will enter Lethal Lockdown and fight your heart out to put on the greatest showing you ever could! Make the crowd roar, stand on their feet as you do every stupid jump and shit you can.
Nah, ima use every weapon to make sure you suffer. This is going to be the worst night of your professional and personal life, Lyle. You're going to miss out on your wedding, miss any chance of having children of your own, and miss out on growing old and you just can't see it. This won't end with a pinfall or a submission. This ends when one man… maybe both cannot answer.
You called what I did in that Texas Street Fight an escape, but it wasn't no escape at all, but that was family loyalty. Without them, you still wouldn't have beaten me. Your best move couldn't put a dent in me while your body convulsed into kicking out. We are not the same. After fighting years with a weakened heart, I trained my body to know what is my end. You couldn't do anything that would have kept me down for the three count.
Hell, you're correct about one thing. I do want control. I control the mob in Italy, I controlled every company I ever worked for, with or without a World title around my waist and yeah, SCW will be no different at all. And it does start with you. I'm a smart person, Lyle. Fight until it becomes needed to survive. I needed to survive the Street Fight, long enough to see you become the villain in this story. The control I have on our story is pushing for that. Because deep down, you know I'm right. You know my grasp of control is too much for you unless you embrace the evil and rip it from my beating heart.
You're stepping into Osaka, Japan. The country where Brandon Fucking Hendrix became the main event and won my first World Championship in and witnessed me take control and made sure the man i beat never and I meant ever become World Champion again.
Control.
My control comes from the wars I battled. The iron grasp I have over professional wrestling does not come from doing the right thing, but the best thing for my family and me. And this Sunday Lyle, I'm going to have control of you and the environment once again……
Man… let me keep it real with you. All the shit that I’ve done. The blood. The bodies. The nights when I can’t close my eyes without seeing something that I wish I could forget. I’ve made peace with all of that…or at the very least, I’ve learned to live with it. But that doesn’t stop me from knowing that, after all the shit I’ve waded through just to still be breathing, I don’t deserve this life I’ve somehow managed to build for myself. I look at them…at my daughter…and some days I can’t help but wonder what kind of joke landed me here with them instead of six feet under the dirt. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I’ve done shit that I can’t even talk about. I’ve watched people die screaming and been the reason that they never made it home. I’ve buried brothers, I’ve broken men. I’ve felt what war does when it gets inside of you and rots away everything good. And yet somehow…for some reason…they still love me. I don’t deserve that. I didn’t earn it. I just survived. That’s all I’ve ever been good at.
Lyle, You’ve seen it firsthand. You’ve watched what happens when I flip that switch. Hell, you’ve felt it. You know exactly what I’m capable of. So don’t start acting brand new just because I’ve let you live, my control once again, and you can keep telling yourself that this time is going to be different…that this time it’s the real you…that that loss didn’t count. But you and I both know the truth… it eats you away more than you don't want to admit because if you do, I win control. Texas took something from you that I own now- and you want it back. But to make things seem alright, you lie to everyone but you cannot lie to me, boy.
Come and try to take it back.
Finish this, Lyle. Either our story ends once and for all…. There will be more bloodshed than we both can mentally afford…..
FINISH IT LYLE! FINISH THE FUCKING TORMENT! FINISH THE WAR OFF!!! I FUCKING DEMAND YOU, YOU NEPO BITCH! FINISH THE FUCKING PLOT!
Because if you don't, then I will. And your family will never forgive me or you.
(Seg end)