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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Supercard Archives => Topic started by: SCW Staff on April 22, 2026, 11:10:58 AM
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Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!
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Las Vegas, Nevada
The morning did not start with anything that felt like magic.
That was supposed to come later. Universal Studios Japan. Theme park food. Music piped through speakers. Bright signs and ridiculous souvenirs and Kevin pretending he was not excited every time Miles said Osaka out loud. Carter had caught him twice looking up ride videos on his phone, then immediately locking the screen like he had been caught doing something criminal.
This morning started with fluorescent lights and a plastic chair that wobbled every time Carter shifted his weight.
He sat in a government building with a packet of forms on his lap, one corner of the top page bent soft from where his thumb had kept finding it. Miles sat to his right, close enough that their knees touched. He had one ankle crossed over the other, both hands folded together, his face calm in the way that meant he was doing the hard work of keeping it that way.
Across from them, Kevin had folded himself into the corner of his chair. His hoodie sleeves covered half his hands, and his earbuds were in, though Carter knew nothing was playing. The cord was tucked against his shirt, unplugged.
Kevin did that sometimes. Put up the sign that said do not bother me without actually shutting the world out. Carter understood it more than he wanted to.
He looked down at the first page.
Petition for Protective Order.
The words looked too neat. They did not look like someone had been inside their home. They did not look like Ms Thang hiding under the bed, shaking so badly that Carter had crawled onto the floor in his good pants and whispered nonsense until she crept toward him. They did not look like Miles coming home from the store pale with anger because a bottle of wine he had only touched on a shelf had somehow appeared in his cart later, like some sick little present.
They especially did not look like the parking garage.
Carter shut his eyes, then regretted it because the image was already there. The rows of parked cars. The sudden shape in the backseat where no one should have been. The horn blasting when he hit it. The attacker running away. It all came back to him with swift and brutal precision.
Carter opened his eyes and forced himself to breathe through his nose.
“You okay?” Miles asked quietly.
Carter turned his head. “Ask me again when I’m in Osaka holding something shaped like Stitch and full of sugar.”
Miles looked like he almost smiled, but was not quite there yet. “I’ll buy you two.”
“You say that like I don’t deserve four.”
“You deserve the whole stand.”
Carter’s mouth softened. “That is why I married you.”
Kevin glanced up from under his hood. A smile tried to happen, small and quick, and then he looked down again.
Behind the glass, the clerk called a name that was not theirs. A woman on the other side of the room stood with a folder pressed against her stomach and followed someone through a heavy door. Carter watched the door swing shut.
The waiting room was too quiet for how full it was. People kept their eyes to themselves. They held folders, envelopes, phones, purses, whatever they had brought in with them, like holding something kept the rest of them from falling apart. Nobody came there because things were fine. Nobody woke up excited to sit beneath a numbered sign and list the ways someone had made them afraid.
Carter shifted. “I hate this.” He whispered.
Miles put his hand over Carter’s. “I know.”
“No, I mean, I hate this.”
Miles turned fully toward him.
“I hate that it feels like we’re asking permission to be left alone!” Carter said. “Like we had to come here, jump through a few legal hoops and hope somebody decides we’re scared enough for it to count!”
Miles’s thumb brushed once over his knuckles.
“I hate that Ms Thang was scared in her own home!” Carter went on. “I hate that you check every corner now, even when you think I don’t see you doing it! I hate that Kevin looks down the hallway before he steps out of the condo, because none of this is his fault and he shouldn’t even have to know how to do that!”
Kevin’s face dropped toward his lap.
“And I hate…” He added, quieter. “...That part of me feels embarrassed.”
Miles stopped moving.
Carter gave a small, ugly laugh. “I know. Ridiculous, right? I can go on camera and tell a man twice my size I’m going to twist him up like discount yoga and leave him wondering why his spine has terms and conditions. I can stand in front of an arena full of people yelling anything they want at me. I can bleed, bruise, lose, win, get up again, and still ask whether my hair is giving tragedy or comeback.”
He looked back down at the Protection Order petition in his hands.
“But this makes me feel small.”
Miles leaned in. His voice stayed low, but there was no softness in the meaning of it. “You are not small.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t get to say it like that just to get me off your back.” Miles kept his hand over Carter’s. “You are not small. You are not weak. You are not being dramatic. Someone broke into our home. Someone followed you. Someone got close enough to try something in that garage! These papers don’t make you small, luv! They put his name where it belongs.”
Miles glanced toward Kevin for half a second, then back at him. “And they say our family is not available for him to mess with!”
Family.
Carter felt that one word settle between the three of them. It had been there already, even when nobody wanted to push too hard on it. An extra plate at dinner. A room that was his as long as he wanted it. Miles bringing home Mexican because he knew it was Kevin’s favorite. Carter buying a hoodie with a tiny cat on it because Kevin had paused in front of it too long.
Kevin turned his face toward the window and blinked too fast.
The door opened and a woman in a navy blazer stepped out with a clipboard, checked the page, then looked into the room.
“Carter Kasey-McKinney?”
Carter stood and smoothed the front of his shirt on instinct. Years of cameras and entrances had trained that into him. Today he had dressed carefully without dressing like he was walking into a show. Black fitted pants. A soft rose shirt. A cropped jacket. Sunglasses pushed up into his hair because he had not been able to decide whether wearing them inside would make him feel protected or ridiculous.
Miles stood beside him. Kevin got up too, slower, waiting to see if he was even allowed to go in or wanted to.
The woman gave them a professional sort of kindness and said, “You can come with me.”
Their attorney was inside of the conference room, pen in hand, reading through his copy of the packet. Alastair O’Malley stood as they entered.
“Carter. Miles.” Then he looked at Kevin, and his voice eased a little. “Kevin, you can stay if you still want to. If you need to step out at any point, that’s completely fine.”
Kevin looked at Carter first, then to Miles. The teenager then sat down, almost an act of defiance in itself. Carter followed the example, and finally Miles.
Alastair tapped the packet. “I reviewed your final statement. The timeline is clear. The incidents are specific. The police report from the garage is attached. So are the photographs of what was recovered from the car, and your written statement about the items that appeared in your home.”
Carter nodded while Miles remained still beside him.
“The judge may have questions.” Alastair continued. “Just answer what you’re asked. You don’t need to dress it up or make it sound more convincing. The facts are strong enough.”
Carter gave him a thin look. “Telling me not to perform is like telling a fish not to be damp.”
“I know,” Alastair said, and this time his smile looked real. “But today, less is more.”
Alastair slid a pen toward him. “Two final signatures, and then I’ll submit it.”
Carter flexed his fingers, then reached for it. He pulled the paper closer and found the line waiting for his name.
For a second, he saw the shirt again.
He had held it up at the mall, laughing about the color while the clerk worked hard for her commission but ultimately failed in making the sale. Carter had put it back. He remembered that clearly. He remembered walking away from it.
Then it had been hanging in their condo later, tucked among his clothes like it belonged there. That had been the first moment Carter really understood someone had gotten close enough to let them know he was there.
He signed.
When he slid the packet back, Miles placed a hand between his shoulder blades. He did not rub or fuss. He just put it there, steady and warm.
Alastair gathered the documents. “I’ll file these with the clerk. Then we wait for the judge’s review.”
“More waiting,” Carter said.
“I’m afraid so.”
They went back to the waiting room, though it did not feel quite the same when they sat down. Carter did not suddenly feel free just because the papers were out of his hands. The first part was done.
Kevin sat between Carter and Miles this time. He did not make a thing of it. He just sat down, his shoulder close enough to Carter’s that their sleeves almost touched. Carter kept his eyes forward and said nothing. Miles looked at the floor, but Carter saw his expression change.
A minute passed, then Kevin asked, “Do you think there’ll be a lot of people?”
“At court?” Miles asked.
Kevin shook his head. “Universal Studios.”
Carter chuckled despite himself. “Imagine this. People everywhere. Lines everywhere. Children screaming because they are happy. Adults screaming because the children want things that cost forty dollars. Someone wearing sandals that expose toes that look like they can ward off predators or climb trees.”
Kevin frowned. “That sounds awful.”
“It does.” Carter said. “And yet it’s still going to be fantastic.”
After a while, Kevin said, so low Carter almost missed it. “I packed the hoodie you got me.”
Carter did not look at Miles. He absolutely could not look at Miles. “The black one?” He asked.
Kevin nodded. “With the little cat.”
“Ms Thang approved that hoodie. That means it has been blessed by a higher authority.”
“She sat on it.”
“For twenty minutes.” Carter said. “That is a full ceremony.”
Kevin smiled for real then. Small, but real.
Alastair came back not long after. Carter knew before he spoke. His face was still calm, still professional, but his posture had changed just enough.
“The temporary protective order has been granted.”
Miles closed his eyes. Carter sat completely still. Kevin looked from one of them to the other.
Alastair sat across from them. “It is temporary until the hearing, but once served, it is active. No contact. No harassment. Stay-away provisions for your residence and the other locations listed. We’ll coordinate service through the appropriate channels.”
Carter heard him. He understood the words. They still seemed to arrive a second late.
Granted. Someone had looked at what happened and decided there was enough danger to draw a line.
“Okay…” Carter said. His voice cracked, but only a little. “Okay. That’s good.”
“It is.” Alastair said. “It’s a start.”
Carter let out a breath that almost became a laugh. “I’ll take a start.”
Outside, Carter stood on the courthouse steps with his sunglasses finally over his eyes, one hand on the railing and the other in Miles’s. Kevin stood one step below them, looking toward the street as cars moved past like nothing important had happened.
For everyone else, it was just Friday. For Carter, a line had been drawn.
Carter stepped down from the courthouse stairs. The wind tugged at his jacket, and for the first time all morning, he did not feel like that building had a hand on the back of his neck.
Miles walked beside him. Kevin followed for half a second, then caught up.
Not behind them, with them.
Later, there would be airports. Security lines. Boarding passes. That strange, uneasy feeling of leaving home when home had not felt completely safe in weeks. There would be Osaka ahead of them, bright and busy and waiting. Universal Studios would be there like a promise Carter intended to collect on, cameras or no cameras.
He would smile. He would sparkle. He would make jokes with teeth in them.
And underneath all of it would be this morning. The papers. The signatures. The fear. The line being drawn.
Helluva Bottom Carter was not walking into Into the Void XV as some disposable former champion grateful for a scrap of spotlight.
He was walking in as a man who had been hunted and still chose to be seen.
“Universal Studios, baby!”
“Look at this place! The lights, the rides, the people, the food! Being here makes me feel like a kid again, and I mean that in the best possible way. I want to grab Miles by the hand, run from one attraction to the next, stop dead because I saw a snack stand, and then act like churros were part of the plan all along!”
“And before anybody gets cute, no, I have not hit the big 3-0 yet. Biologically speaking, where Father Time is concerned, I am still a child. Youthful. Vibrant. Moisturized. Wandering through Universal Studios with the attention span of a sugar-rushed toddler and the bank account of an adult who knows exactly how dangerous theme park food can be. But while this place makes me feel like a kid again, Cyrus Riddle is about to learn just how much of a man Helluva Bottom Carter can be when that bell rings at Into the Void XV!”
“This is the kind of place where you can forget about the bruises for a little while. You can forget about the backstage politics, the disappointments, and all those little reminders that this business can build you up one week and treat you like yesterday’s souvenir cup the next. But the park closes eventually and reality comes walking in with a referee and a man standing across from me who asked for exactly what he is about to get.”
“That man is Cyrus Riddle. The man who decided that if he was stepping into SCW, he was not going to tiptoe in quietly. No, Cy looked around, saw Helluva Bottom Carter standing there, and said, ‘That one.’ And you know what? Part of me respects the hell out of that. Another part of me has to wonder why.”
“Because I had not missed a Supercard event since High Stakes XIII in 2023. Think about that for a second. Every major stage. Every big spotlight. Every time Sin City Wrestling rolled out the red carpet, Helluva Bottom Carter was there. I showed up. I was part of it. I belonged on those cards.”
“Then I lose the World Championship, and suddenly it feels like I became easier to overlook. Suddenly, the man who carried that title, the man who proved he could stand in the main event picture, the man who showed the world he belonged there, was left standing outside like the invitation got lost in the mail.”
“And yes, that stings. I am not going to stand here in Universal Studios, surrounded by all this excitement, and pretend it didn’t. I am not going to smile for the cameras and act like being left off Into the Void XV did not hit me somewhere real. It made me angry. It made me question where I stood. It made me wonder if everything I had built could be treated like some novelty, popular for a while, then quietly pushed aside when the next flashy thing came along.”
“But then here comes an offer. A chance to keep my streak alive. And that offer did not come from some wide-eyed rookie who does not know any better. It did not come from someone still trying to figure out which corner is theirs, or how to look intimidating without looking constipated. No, that offer came from Cy Riddle.”
“And Cy Riddle is not just some random name. He is the brother of my own ‘Kitty’ Kat Jones, the woman who stood beside me when I married the love of my life. Kat has been part of my world, part of my family, part of one of the happiest and most meaningful days of my entire life. So do not think for one second I am walking into this match unaware of who you are, Cy. I know the connection. I understand there is a thread tying you to someone I care about very much.”
“But do not think that thread is going to save you. Once that bell rings, being Kat’s brother is a nice little footnote, but it does not change the assignment. It does not make me hesitate when I see an opening. It does not make me step back when I should step forward. And it absolutely does not make me forget who I am, what I have done, and what I refuse to let happen to me at Into the Void XV.”
“And let’s talk about who you are, Cy, because believe me, I did my homework. Twenty different championships. Thirty-seven combined reigns. Thirty. Seven!”
“Like, dayum! That is not a résumé. That’s a museum exhibit! That is the kind of accomplishment list where you need background music just to get through it before the audience needs a bathroom break. Twenty championships. Thirty-seven reigns. You have been around the block, across the street, through the neighborhood, into the next town, and somehow came back with gold every time like wrestling had a rewards program!”
“And I respect that. I am not going to stand here and act like Cyrus Riddle is nobody. I am not going to pretend those championships do not matter, or that those reigns mean nothing. You do not collect accomplishments like that by accident. You do not keep winning titles because everyone around you is feeling generous. You earned those. You built your name one championship at a time until your reputation started walking into rooms before you did.”
“But here is the thing, Cy. You may have the longer list, but I have a list too. No, I haven't stacked them up the way you have. Not yet. I haven’t been in this game as long as you have. Even in my rookie year in Sin City Underground, I was doing pretty damn good for myself. I did not walk in as some pretty little decoration for people to underestimate and then dismiss when they got bored. I walked in and I proved early that Helluva Bottom Carter was not there to be background noise. In SCU, I held the Combat Championship, and that proved right from the start that I was more than a pretty face.”
“With my bestie Ariana Angelos, I became one half of the Pride Tag Team Champions. And that mattered. Not just because of the title, and not just because of the win, but because it showed I could share the battlefield and still shine. I also go on record as being the youngest Underground Champion, which means at an age where people still wanted to pat me on the head and tell me I had potential, I was already proving that potential had teeth.”
“Then I moved up to Sin City Wrestling, and that is where plenty of people thought reality was finally going to slap me in the face. They thought I was cute in SCU. They thought I was fun. But SCW? That was the big stage. That was where the lights were hotter, the expectations were higher, and the competition was meaner. That was where people figured Helluva Bottom Carter would find out he had reached too far.”
“Instead, I showed I belonged. I won the first ever Elimination Chamber. I walked into a structure designed to punish people, to test them, to expose every weakness they have, and I came out of it with my hand raised. Do you understand what that says about me? It says I can survive!”
“I won the Internet Championship. Then I won the World Heavyweight Championship. Not because someone handed it to me. Not because I batted my eyes and asked nicely. Not because I coasted through on charm and pretty gear. I won because I fought! I won because I believed I could! I won because when an opportunity stood in front of me, I grabbed it by the throat and made it remember my name!”
“So no, Cy. I am not some random piece of fluff anyone can take advantage of. The only one allowed to see me as someone pretty to be taken advantage of is reserved solely for my husband.”
“You see, people love making assumptions about me. They see how I talk. They see how I dress. They see how I move. They hear the jokes, the sass and the drama, and think that means there is nothing dangerous underneath. They think sparkle means fragile. They think colorful means harmless. That’s their mistake to make and mine to exploit.”
“And Cy, before Into the Void XV, I need you to understand this clearly. I can respect you and still beat you. I can admire what you have done and still refuse to let you use my name as the first brick in whatever kingdom you are trying to build in Sin City Wrestling. I can appreciate your history and your connection to Kat, and still look you dead in the eye and tell you that you are not walking through me!”
“Because I have too much at stake. This is not just another match for me. This is not just Carter keeping his Supercard streak alive. This is not just Carter showing up at Into the Void XV because Cyrus Riddle opened the door. This is me proving that leaving me off was a mistake. This is me proving that the former World Heavyweight Champion does not disappear just because he no longer has the belt. This is me proving that I am not disposable. I am not a chapter somebody else gets to close because they decided the story was over.”
“Everything I have stood for, everything I have built around myself, everything I clawed my way toward, I am not letting it come crashing down because Cyrus Riddle wants a grand entrance. I am not suffering the humiliation of going down to someone in their debut match, whether they are a rookie, a veteran, or a mega-proven champion a hundred times over! I do not care if you have twenty titles, thirty-seven reigns, or a trophy case so crowded the shelves are filing complaints with OSHA. I am not here to be your welcome mat! You are NOT going to walk all over me!”
“And I know this might sound harsh, Cy. Because of Kat, because of that connection, because there is respect before the bell, some people might expect me to be softer about this. But that is not how this business works. Kat knows that better than anyone. She stood beside me on one of the most important days of my life, and I will always love her for that. But when the bell rings, family ties, friendships, memories, and wedding day sentiment all have to sit in the front row and watch what happens like everybody else.”
“And what happens is going to be Carter walking into Into the Void XV not just to fight Cyrus Riddle, but to remind every single person who forgot. I am walking in to remind the decision makers. I am walking in to remind the locker room. I am walking in to remind the fans. And yes, I am walking in to remind myself too, not because I doubt who I am, but because sometimes the world tries so hard to make you feel smaller that you have to stand tall just to spite it.”
“So Cy, from me to you, understand this. I respect you. I respect the championships. I respect the reigns. I respect the miles you have traveled and the bodies you have dropped to get here. I respect the fact that you did not ask for an easy road into Sin City Wrestling. You asked for me, and that tells me you have courage, ambition, and maybe just enough arrogance to make this fun.”
“But respect does not mean mercy or my stepping aside. At Into the Void XV, you get Helluva Bottom Carter. Not the man people tried to leave behind. You get the version of Carter who won championships, broke expectations, and stood on top of Sin City Wrestling as World Heavyweight Champion.”
“You get the Carter who still has something to prove. So enjoy the spotlight, Cy. Enjoy the anticipation. Enjoy the attention that comes with your name finally being placed across from mine. Because when the bell rings, all the credentials in the world will not take the impact for you. Those championships will not absorb the pain. Those reigns will not stop my hand from being raised.”
“This is Universal Studios, so let’s keep the theme going. At Into the Void XV, Cy Riddle gets his grand opening. But Helluva Bottom Carter gets the blockbuster ending!”
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“Can you tell me what it’s like
To bring the dead back to life?
Gave me roses when I died
Just to kill me one more time.”
April 25, 2026
11:48 PM
Monument, CO
The tranquility of the night had set in, seamlessly blanketing the demeanor and psyche of Cyrus Riddle as he sat serenely with his eyes fixated on the night sky. Another birthday knocked on the door, and it was due to depart within minutes. These were the designated days of reflection and evaluation of the present position. Just as many years ushered in tribulations to smile upon, they also delivered trials to use as tools for learning. However, this year delivered neither one. Life felt… stagnant. No progressions to speak of, nor any setbacks. It had been on an odd cruise control for the first time in any discernable period of time that Cyrus had lived through, personally or professionally.
Normally, this would invoke a sense of self-injustice and restlessness within him. Much to the opposite, he felt content and without a feeling of sabotage. Perhaps the feeling of being content should have shaken him to a degree, or at the very least exposed to himself the cracks he had filled in the past were bonded by material that would not be time tested. Content for Cyrus was like a death sentence at any other point in his life, and this should have been the alarm. But, sometimes when we’ve ignored ourselves for so long, it takes a force beyond our control to force perspective in times where we would rather sit the battle out.
“Shatter me
Tear me down to pieces
Break my heart where your ghost still lives.”
The glass sitting loosely within his grasp as it sat in the cupholder of his black, reclining patio chair had remained untouched by his lips. Even as the fire from the pit only a few feet from him crackled and provided a beautiful visual aura against the backdrop of the Colorado night, his focus locked in above the tree lines. The minimal amount of guests that had attended his house a few hours prior had all departed, so company was surely not in the cards to entertain any longer… or was it?
Realizing that his mind had escaped reality without a train of thought to take the tracks to the ether his thoughts became lost in, the Englishman gently wrapped his fingers around the glass, and proceeded to lift slowly, only to be interrupted by a slender finger and black fingernail entering the pink contents within.
He knew better than to be rattled, as he could sense the energy of his unexpected guest. This was a presence he had felt countless times throughout the years, in many senses. Instead of glancing up, he turned his head to the side with a smirk.
I’m starting to think that you are an assigned watcher, and your case study is me.
He finally looked up, only to be met by her full, red lipsticked lips separated into a smile to reveal pearly white teeth. He always did appreciate how she never aged, with that eternally twenty-five aesthetic.
It always amazes me how you know I’m here without looking to verify.
Even after twenty-one years, her Colombian accent remained intact despite her living in Brooklyn, New York the majority of her adulthood. Cyrus processed it as a familiar comfort, like a timeless classic sound that allowed for time jumping to simpler, exciting moments of early years where everything felt new and untarnished by the jaded.
Rissa, you do realize that I’ve known you for such an abundant amount of time that I can sense everything about you? Study, familiarity, repetition.
Rissa Montoya, one half of the duo that discovered Cy and gave him a chance in the first place. Within months after arriving in New York from London, Riddle found himself floundering on the American independent wrestling scene. Rissa, along with Eddie Arctica, reconditioned him and reimagined his approach to the craft, thus turning him into the man he is today and would become within the year they began to mold him.
You know, Cy, I always loved your attention to detail.
She paused briefly, taking a chance to run her hand over his with a compassionate rest once her palm rested over his knuckles.
It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you.
Cy inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, following it up with the first gulp of his drink, which was only Strawberry Lemonade and nothing anyone would stereotypically associate him with drinking.
Yeah, I’m not really sure I want to wander down that particular road right now, love. It’s been a rather easy night for me, and one without emotional drudge.
Her smile softened as she nodded in understanding.
Yes, I know, and I’m not here to do any of that, amor. Also, Happy Birthday to you.
A kiss on the side of his head followed, with Cy closing his eyes for a brief moment of reminisce.
I’m actually here to check on you wholly. To be honest, you haven’t been yourself, and I’m not feeling your energy as strong anymore. It’s worrying me.
Riddle appeared confused, and looked to Rissa with a furrowed brow.
Are you implying my demise?
Only the spirit, not the body. You are not the Cyrus Riddle that we took from a vanilla wannabe body builder, to a mist spitting, mask wearing, tattoo adorned, multi-disciplined machine.I’ve seen all of your faces, Cy, and this one is not the man I know. Here you are, tucked away, sipping strawberry lemonade under a night sky alone like a retiree in recovery, but you aren’t even forty.
Okay, now the harsh accountability was beginning to transpire. Cy could feel the twinges of discontent stirring within him, creating that discomfort that once upon a time he thrived in feeling because it forced productivity.
Did you not just sign a contract less than a week ago? I understand it’s late at night, but my Cyrus? Even on a birthday he would have been hitting a bag at the very least. What’s become of you? How can I help?
I think you are overanalyzing this just a little bit, yeah? I’m trying to take time and live in the moment like everyone suggests. You know, appreciate the spoils of my work with the land I paid for, under the night sky that’s begging me to gawk at it, while being warmed by a fire to combat the brisk air. It’s all poetic.
Rissa said nothing at first. She watched as some of the embers of the fire ascended into the night, only to be extinguished promptly.
And tomorrow? What does that look like, exactly? Are we on two-a-days again? Does the world shut down and Cy open business? Es mejor que no te quedes atascada en tu culo.
Cy let out a chuckle and took another sip of his juice, placing it into the cupholder before interlocking his fingers and resting his hands against his abdomen.
I can still speak Spanish, and no, my head will not get stuck up my ass. I’m more than aware of how my twenty twenty five looked. I appeared, I overloaded, became my own worst enemy, and tucked away again.
What Cy did not account for, was the slap that would follow his admission, with Rissa getting into his face. Her voice was not loud, instead she had a tone of disappointment and quiet anger about her, which widened his eyes.
You say that with such ease, don’t you? It’s all so simple because it happened and you’ve moved on? No, no… that’s not what you do. Frankly, you acting so nonchalant is disrespect to me. The work, the time, the dedication to you? That’s the repayment. I would rather you strike me down than to spit on the legacy I passed on to you and instilled in you with trust and love. You owe me, Cy, and you know it. Don’t shove that down into a box and tuck it away. I’m here because you know in your heart that you carry the burden of disappointing the one person you vowed never to.
Cy looked into the fire now, his lips closed and tongue running along the inside of his bottom lip. The works stuck like a knife because they were with merit. He couldn’t even argue the fact that he had tucked the acknowledgement away so he could avoid the confrontation in the mirror. Now, what began as a tranquil night, turned into the very restlessness he thought had become a feeling of antiquity.
He could feel her gaze upon him unrelenting as he avoided eye contact. The flood of guilt began to wear on him, the conviction placed in his heart manifested itself into a single tear, which rolled from his eye and down his cheek, the product of a cleansing wince so his eyes would cease their watering.
I’m sorry. I have lost a lot of myself along the way, installing pieces into the people I’ve attached to along the way like horcuxes. It’s fair if you want to say I became a shell. I reached the top of the mountain, and I fell at double speed with an impact that could have left a permanent imprint into the base. I never meant to disrespect you, or disregard your feelings on who I am or have become in recent years.
He closed his eyes as her hand lifted from his, taking a deep breath and talking through the exhale.
I’ll repay you, be rest assured. I owe you so much more than what I’ve given, and I won’t forget that, okay?
Cy opened his eyes, only to find Rissa nowhere in sight.
Riss…
He adjusted himself up and stood to his feet, looking around and being met with nothing. Just as quick as she appeared, she faded away once again. But, this was the wake up call he was in desperate need of whether he was willing to admit it or not. He needed the discomfort of accountability. On his own wiles, he would surely fade deeper into obscurity and ultimately bring the final nail for his own coffin. But with the proper system in place around him, he will be forced to rediscover himself.
“You’ll haunt me when I need you most
And fade like a forgotten ghost.”
April 28, 2026
8:48 PM
Undisclosed Location
An opaque visual. The camera feed opens to nothing but a still, black shot, with the audio receiving no transmission of note. The room is so quiet that tinnitus begins to set in. It’s just at the brink of feeling a sense of unease that a loud clang can be heard, followed by the illumination of the room. The white light gives a showcase to a wide shot of a room full of mirrors. As optical illusion varieties go, each one diversified itself from the next. Some of them were unclean, some distorting the room in ways that would leave the eyes twisted, and some cracked. This room was the perfect amalgamation of a funhouse and morgue.
It is after a resonating view of the room that Cyrus Riddle appears in frame. Absent were the footsteps prior to his arrival, but abundant was the presence his emergence into frame delivered. Within the room, dozens of contorted, mirrored duplicates appeared. All of these Riddles wore the identical black jeans with designed rips, the black and grey flannel, with black and grey Jordan MVP 92 shoes on their feet. With Cy’s movements, the reflections moved in alternate directions and with changing distortion, even down to the slightest head movements he made as he studied the mirrors within his direct proximity.
Sometimes our reflections reveal to us a beauty that we have never recognized in ourselves. Other times it reveals the horrors we compartmentalize. But, can we truly believe in either one? Reflections can distort, deceive, and provide false identity in an ever changing world full of ever changing viewpoints, soul shifts, and evolutions. I’ve sat in front of mirrors convincing myself I was incapable of change that I then went on to make anyway. I’ve looked into my own eyes and witnessed the ascension, the demise, the complacency, and the growths of my existence. The relationship I’ve had with myself has been tumultuous at best, be it for my benefit or detriment.
Cyrus walked slowly over to the mirror on his right, where the effect created widening of his frame, as if to add weight. A slight smirk cracked his otherwise flat affect.
Gluttony has always been a companion of mine, but not in a culinary sense, and it’s not like I ever intended to be harmful with it. I never once had a malicious thought in the excess I dove into, but there was never a moment in time where my need for more didn’t cause collateral damage. I sacrificed moments in my career, entire portions of a timeline that could have been decorated with wrestling accolades became replaced by rehabilitations and recoveries. Moments where I could have made the wise choice, I gave into my own hubris and ended up hurt. I made psychological errors by letting the perceptions and conversations invoking my name dictate how I operated my life and career, and the maddening aspect of that is that none of those opinions came from people of value, or that I value in the slightest. It was a matter of place, time, peer group, and negative self-image. My ego escaped from the grasp I had on it, and it ran amuck as others with half the talent, a quarter of the intellect, and none of the resolve that I possess went on to take advantage of the opportunities that I had cost myself. You’re welcome.
Cyrus’ chest rose and deflated again as he took a deep breath in his reflection.
Unfortunately none of it can be undone or repented for anymore. Those people and places cease to exist. And as far as personal life choices go? Let’s just say that the Cyrus of yesteryear was not and would never be a role model. I’m surprised I turned out to be the father I am, because I surely did not conduct myself in a manner suitable for parenthood. My need for excess did not stop at wrestling. Ask Elena, ask Sydney, how being married to Cyrus Riddle turns out. It begins as a dark fairytale, and turns into an emotional nightmare. My dating resume transcends my wrestling accolades numerically, and quite frankly it’s one of the heaviest burdens I’ve had to carry in my life. Consumption at its finest destruction.This is why Kat has stuck by me for so long, because she is the only anchor I have to keep me still and forgive the flaws.
The multi-time champion walks away from the mirror, and as he steps out of its reflection, the glass shatters, hitting the ground without forgiveness and echoing loudly due to the room’s acoustics. From the mirror of gluttony, Cyrus finds himself standing off to the left of the shattered glass, starting into another funhouse style mirror. This one is distorted in a way that makes his body look small and compact, as if being crushed by a cardboard baler.
And this is what gluttony does to a man’s image and spirit once the crash happens. You end up reduced to a lesser stature, both in reputation and worth. It’s an isolating feeling, and one that eats away at the psyche slowly with negative thoughts and visions of a world that you no longer are an asset to. You become mentally shackled by the downfall, completely vegetative in regards to productivity and the power to change in the moment. It’s equal parts debilitating and humiliating. I lived in this for months, and I vow to never return to that state of being again. I don’t care what I have to do, how I have to do it, or who has to be the sacrifice to make it achievable.
sings Come one and all and see the broken man, talking to himself…
Cy pauses as he appears before the next mirror, unflinching as the previous distortion shatters as the first, but sooner this time as it allows the crunch of the glass beneath his feet to be audible. The next mirror, however, was much less of a traditional distortion, as it used to be a conventional mirror, but this one is cracked and webbed in many places, holding its form by some divine intervention as Riddle looks to himself in his reflection and sees himself in fragments.
Stone Sour’s “Inhale” is far and beyond one of the most resonating songs I have ever listened to. Much of the content I’ve been able to relate to on a visceral level. I would often ask myself why anything mattered. You see, when you indulge in the excess and then fall to reduce yourself, you find yourself immensely broken. Your soul fragmented, your mind shattered, your body riddled with scars that at the time you cannot acknowledge are mentally inflicted and not literal aesthetic wounds. Every valid or realistic perception of self becomes void, ushering in delusions and negative personal equity. This is where the destructive habits begin to creep in. You seek solace in that which is unhealthy and falsely fulfilling. In reality, we just run from the issue in a poor attempt to feel some kind of value. The demons swirl, you call out to God hoping for a miracle or an answered prayer, then laugh at how ridiculous you must seem to Him because you’ve never called upon him before.
I’ve sat in gentleman’s clubs on Saturdays, church pews on Sundays, and dined with the atheists on Monday. Let’s just say, nothing with me was consistent in those times, nor were two happenings ever symbiotic enough to create a change that would see me succeed. I was ready to leave this world, and with the snap of fingers I can recall every dreadful thought, every sickening feeling in my stomach, and the emotional abyss it sank me into. And I say again, somehow I was good enough of a father, to where I could attempt to be the man my daughter believes me to be, and that was a thought I had to hold dear to pull myself out of the muck.
Instead of walking away for the glass to shatter, Cy removes a fragment from the already cracked pane, and stands as the rest of the pieces domino off of the surface and onto the floor. Pocketing the fragment, he smiles reminiscently before reaching the final mirror. This mirror stood at the very end of the room, and it was the last truly conventional mirror in the building. Riddle stood before it without distortion, steadfast with a perfect reflection. He held his hand out and touched the mirror, hanging his head momentarily, but not down enough to conceal the smile on his face.
And through adversity, redemption will come. Once mended, I became unbroken. I made a mistake last year when I returned to this business. I returned seeking redemption through action. It was false hope through anticipated growth that quite frankly I had no business seeking because I wasn’t prepared enough to deal with the weight that this business puts on the backs of men like myself. I had to dig deep, I had to rediscover who Cyrus Riddle was. I’ve worn masks, both physical and mental, and I have been dragged to Hell and back on multiple occasions. I sat in moderate seclusion for an inordinate amount of time wondering if I was truly ready or if I was attempting to persuade myself of something that just wasn’t a possibility anymore. Then Kat woke me up. She said “hey Cy, it’s time again. You’ve been gone too long, you are not done, there is still plenty left in you.” I never did feel spent in this business, but I did feel too complacent. I needed to step away and learn a new hold as the old timers used to say. I needed to figure out who I am as a modern day performer.
The days of operating on fear and shock factor are no more. Social media and modern movies have bastardized the approach I once refined and thrived in. I don’t care to strike fear into the hearts of man, as I’ve come to expect that any man with that level of fear in another shouldn’t be stepping into a ring across from anyone in the first place. Now, it’s raw, it’s real, it’s what you can deliver between the ropes that gets you the intimidation factor. Perhaps now more than ever, people care more about the physical acumen than the pageantry of an entrance or aura. I guess unfortunate to those in SCW, I possess an immeasurable amount of both that I’ve yet to find proper contention with.
I remember the feeling of my first championship victory. It was a television title, and I felt like I had just won the World Heavyweight. That’s a high that I would hope anyone can experience in their lifetime, because when I did finally win a World Heavyweight Championship, it was light years beyond any expectation or comparison to that Television title. The mountain is gorgeous to climb, but only if you stop and admire the scenery. So…
Riddle turns around, smiling warmly, although with hints of menace.
I can safely assume that none of you feel my challenge to HBC was a coincidence, yeah? A staple of this company, a former World Champion. The dastardly conspiracy to leave him off of a big show card foiled by the multi-time world champion who is just walking through the door and looking to prove against a standard bearer. What I love about this match the most? There are no ill wills here. It’s simply an exhibition of the highest tension between one man looking to propel himself into the main event upon arrival and do that by putting down one of the biggest names SCW has ever seen… versus that very pillar of SCW who won’t simply allow a man like me to come in and acquire victory. The unstoppable force and immovable object stand across from one another, and neither one of us have to be giants to earn that level of appeal for this one on one.
Carter, I’m not looking for any nefarious infliction here, let me make that clear. I am a man, a legend, an undying idea who is looking to make a direct and immediate impact in SCW the only way that I have the opportunity to. I recognize who you are, I acknowledge what you’ve done, and quite frankly, you’re the only person here who I feel I can trust enough to have this match and the outcome won’t determine the cordiality between us on the other side of the bout. Cyrus Riddle has rediscovered himself. I’ve found my redemption, and this will be the re-debut I have been overdue for. Instead of the fragmented half-man that once was, you get one hundred percent of who I am and how I conduct business unlike any other man who has stood before you.
I’ve explained my journey and outlined who I once was, and now you will get to experience who I am. Truth be told, I find this to be an honor, and it is not an honor I will afford anyone else after this. At Into the Void, we will change the perception of what wrestling can be. When historians revisit the night, they will say that Riddle versus Carter redefined SCW. To put it provocatively, Carter… when the night is done, and you have the privilege of looking up at the lights, you will realize that Helluva Bottom has never been topped quite like Cyrus Riddle can deliver, and it’s just business when business is exceptional.
容赦なし、慈悲なし、逃れられない。
In Japanese, that means no tolerance, no mercy, and no escape.
Riddle clasps his hands together and uses his two index fingers to press into his chin as he smiles and winks. He snaps his fingers, and as he does, the mirror behind him shatters and the lights go out immediately, ending the feed.