The Quiet After

The Monday Following Blaze of Glory

Las Vegas didn’t feel like Las Vegas tonight when he and Kevin crossed the threshold in the very early morning hours Monday. It wasn’t the lights, they were still there, bleeding through the glass of the Turnberry Towers windows in their usual neon blur. It wasn’t the noise either, even this high up, the Strip never truly slept.

No.

It was the silence inside the condo that made everything feel...off.

Miles Kasey stood just inside the doorway for a moment longer than he needed to, keys still in his hand, the faint echo of the lock clicking behind him hanging in the air like it meant something more than it did.

Kevin was back home, safe, where he needed to be. He had school in the morning afterall. Carter made him promise that Kev wouldn’t deviate from his routine and the structure they secured for him. It had to remain as normal as possible. Miles had made sure of that because somebody had to.

Even then Kevin was unsure if he wanted to leave Carter behind in Texas, but Carter made them promise.

Miles exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face as he stepped further inside. The place was clean, too clean. Everything exactly where it should be. No half-finished coffee on the counter. No sarcastic note left on the fridge. No Carter pacing the floor, talking through something out loud just to hear it make sense.

It was just...quiet.

Miles set his keys down. That sound felt louder than it should’ve. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of the last few days. Texas still clung to him, between the sweat that still held onto him because he never had a chance to get a shower after he went through hell against Alex Jones and hospital air, the antiseptic, the low hum of machines, the look on Carter’s face that he couldn’t quite scrub from his mind no matter how hard he tried.

He moved toward the couch, dropping down into it without much ceremony, elbows resting on his knees. For a moment, he just stared ahead. Kevin had said good night to him as soon as they got home, so it was just him, in an empty room.

At some point his eyes must have closed and he finally fell asleep. He woke up only a few hours later to Kevin nudging him awake to tell him he was leaving for school and to not panic because Connor was coming to get him and to go to bed. Miles didn’t wanna lay in that bed by himself so he just stayed put.

It was just pure silence, a clock ticking away, the air conditioning humming along. Miles just laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling and then....The memory hit.

In his head the memories swam back to Dr. Delacore’s office. Miles had been sitting off to the side, trying and failing to stay out of it. This wasn’t his moment, and it wasn’t his fight. Except it was because it was Carter. Because it was them.

Carter had been quiet at first, the kind of quiet that meant something was clawing its way up from somewhere deep.

Dr. Delacore’s voice had been steady and measured as she guided him, “Take your time. You’re safe here.”

Safe....Miles almost laughed at that now because nothing about that moment had felt safe.

Carter’s hands had been trembling. Subtle. Almost unnoticeable if you didn’t know him like Miles did. But Miles knew, he always knew.

And then, that moment and that shift like something clicked into place that had been missing.

Carter’s breathing hitched. His jaw tightened. His eyes...God, his eyes...it was pain. It was raw and immediate, like he was right back there in that car in the lot.

Miles had leaned forward without even realizing it, "Miles...” he heard the doc whisper his name like that warning him not to interfere. It wasn’t loud or panicked, but like she needed him there to just hold his husband together.

And then Carter said it, strained and forced like dragging it through broken glass, “...Lazarus.”

Miles blinked and he was back in the condo and back in the silence. He would sit up, and his jaw tightened almost immediately, the muscle ticking as his hand slowly curled into a fist against his knee, "Lazarus...”

He muttered it under his breath this time, testing the weight of it and letting it settle. Miles leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling now, eyes unfocused as everything started to connect in ways he didn’t like.

Carter losing the title. Carter nearly got his career...his life ripped away. The weeks of confusion following the attack and the gaps to follow. The not knowing of who would actually do this and now...A name.

And to him it was now a target and absolutely nothing else.

Miles let out a slow breath through his nose, sitting up again as that quiet started to feel less like peace and more like pressure. Because Lazarus was gone according to the detective, no trail, no sightings, no whispers. He was just gone like he never existed and that was saying something considering the man was an actor.

That didn’t sit right with Miles. Didn’t sit right at all. Miles reached for his phone off the table, unlocking it without hesitation. His thumb hovered for only a second before selecting a contact.

Las Vegas Police Dept.

The line rang, once...Twice and then Voicemail.

Miles’ expression didn’t change, but there was a shift. He pulled the phone away slightly, listening to the automated message like it personally offended him.

“...out of the office...”

Of course he was. Miles ended the call without leaving a message. For a second, he just stared at the screen. You could see it in his head that he was thinking. Calculating what he could possibly do next. And then his thumb moved, he scrolled through his list of names that Carter would constantly ask who they were, there were a lot of people on there he hadn’t talked to in forever but there was name in particular he was looking for and then his thumb stopped.

Another name. This one was not law enforcement and certain not official.

No, this one was even better.

He hit the green call button and the line picked up quicker this time. Miles didn’t waste a second.

“Mate...Yeah. It’s me.” there was a beat between that where he stood up slowly, pacing now, energy finally starting to move through him, “I’ve got a job for you.”

Another pause as he listened, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I need your expertise, out of everyone I know you know to find someone.” He stopped near the window, staring out over the city, the day light was brighter, the movement was a bit more active now, the illusion that everything was exactly how it should be. His grip tightened slightly around the phone, "The name’s Lazarus and I will send you what I know.”

Silence on the other end, Miles’ voice dropped just a fraction, “And I don’t care how far he’s run...you’re gonna track him down and don’t worry about pay, you know I got you.”

He listened again, then gave a small nod to himself, “Good. I’ll be in touch.”

And with that the call ended. Miles didn’t move right away, he just stood there, looking out over Las Vegas.

The city didn’t feel quiet anymore, now it felt like something was coming. And for the first time since they got home last night, Miles smiled. It wasn’t warm or relieved.

Something else entirely.

-----------

Something of His Own

Two Weeks Later

Two weeks made a difference but not in the way people expected. Carter was home and healing. He was moving around better. He was certainly talking more and sleeping without the same sharp interruptions that used to jolt him awake. The color had come back to him, little by little, like someone slowly turning the lights back on.

Kevin had settled back into routine, school during the day, more time spent with Connor after. A little more independence and a little less hovering.

Everything, on the surface, had started to feel stable again. And yet...Miles sat in the same chair he always did across from Dr. Delacore with the standing appointment he kept with her.

His leg bouncing slightly, arms crossed, though not defensively, just a habit.

There was always something about this room. It was too calm and too quiet. Would it kill her to play some smooth jazz or something in the background? Everything was just too intentional but Dr. Delacore didn’t rush to fill the silence. She never did. She sat across from him, notepad resting loosely in her lap, pen idle between her fingers observing and waiting for him.

Miles exhaled lightly through his nose.

“So what, we're just gonna sit here until I say something profound or...?”

There it was. That classic deflection that caused Delacore’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a knowing smile.

“We can. But I don’t think you’re very good at sitting still.”

Miles huffed out a quiet breath, shifting slightly in his seat, "Depends what I’m sitting still for.”

“And what are you sitting still for right now?”

He glanced at her and then away. That question lingered longer than he liked, “Carter’s doing better.” Deflection again but she didn’t stop him, “He’s moving around more. Sleeping through most nights now. Kev’s back on schedule, school’s going good. Been spending more time with Connor which is...”

He paused briefly, nodding to himself, "...Good. It’s good for him.”

Delacore watched him carefully, letting him finish before she continued on with, “And you?”

Miles blinked once, just once, “...What about me?”

She didn’t look down at her notes. Didn’t break eye contact, “How are you doing, Miles? I mean, we sat here weeks ago with Carter and I couldn’t help but noticed that you walked out of here and damn near ripped my door off the hinges. Thankfully it’s been bent to hell before and that actually fixed a weird creaking problem but...I wanna know about you.”

That brought a small subtle shift in his posture. If one really didn’t pay attention, you’d hardly noticed it but it was there.

“I’m fine.”

It was automatic and too quick that caused her to tilt her head slightly, “You just listed how everyone else in your life is doing. I asked about you.”

Miles let out a quiet breath through his nose, leaning back in the chair now, one arm draped over the side, "I mean... that is me. That’s my life.”

“It’s part of your life.” she let that sit for a moment before she let out, “But it’s not all of it.”

Miles’ jaw shifted slightly and he didn’t respond right away, So she continued, "You have Carter. You have Kevin. LJ. Ally. Ashlynn.” She listed them gently, not dismissively, "You show up for them, consistently. You protect. You support. You...tend to carry a lot. But when everything is quiet....like it was the night you came home from Texas...”

Miles’ eyes flicked back to her, and she knew that that landed with him, “Who is Miles when there’s no one else to take care of?”

There was a long stretch of silence but it wasn’t empty. But instead you could tell it was heavy that caused Miles to look away again, this time slower, thinking. Actually thinking.

“I train.” It sounded weaker than he meant it to.

“That’s your profession.”

It wasn't dismissive but factual.

“It’s more than that.”

“I don’t doubt that.” She leaned forward slightly, not invasive into his space but showing that she was just engaged, "But it’s still something that revolves around performance. There is an expectation and a certain amount of pressure to go along with it...but...I’m asking about something that belongs only to you.”

Miles’ brow furrowed slightly. That phrasing didn’t sit right or maybe it sat too right, "I’ve got things that are mine.”

“Like what?”

There was no challenge in her voice, just curiosity that somehow made it harder. She watched as Miles opened his mouth, and then closed it. And a moment before he did it again and nothing came out. She didn’t push immediately, instead she just let the silence exist long enough for him to feel it.

“You define yourself through what you do for other people.” Miles’ eyes narrowed slightly but it wasn’t defensive but aware, "And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s one of your greatest strengths. But it can also become a place to hide.”

That one hit as Miles sat up a little straighter, “I’m not hiding.”

“No?” she held his gaze, “When was the last time you did something that had nothing to do with Carter or Kevin or wrestling or fixing a problem?”

He didn’t answer because he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t because that was his life. She nodded slightly, not in victory—just acknowledgment, "That silence right there? That’s what I’m talking about.”

Miles let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck, "I don’t really see the issue. My life is my life. I’ve built it. I like it.”

“I believe you.” and you could tell she did, “But what happens if, just for a moment, someone doesn’t need you?”

Miles frowned slightly because he didn’t like that question, “Someone always needs something.”

“That’s not what I asked. What happens if they don’t?”

And then there was the long stretch of silence again, in fact it was even longer this time. Miles stared at the floor for a moment, jaw working slightly as something unspoken tried to surface, "...I don’t know.”

There it was. Delacore nodded gently, "And that’s okay. But I think it’s something you should find out.”

Miles looked back up at her, "So what, you want me to pick up knitting or something?”

A faint smirk. Dry humor creeping back in. Another round of classic deflection, but lighter this time. Delacore allowed herself a small smile, "It doesn’t have to be knitting. But yes, something.”

She leaned back slightly, "A hobby. An interest. Something creative and perhaps something physical. Something that isn’t tied to expectation or responsibility.” Her tone softened just a little more, "Something that’s yours.”

Miles sat with that and he didn’t argue and didn’t deflect this time. He just sat with it like the idea felt completely foreign and unnecessary. And yet...He couldn’t dismiss it completely.

“...I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Delacore nodded, “Then maybe that’s the first step. Figuring that out.”

Miles didn’t have an answer when he left. Not a real one but for the first time, the question followed him out the door.

------------------

Examples Have to Be Made

Cedar Point, Sandusky, Ohio

The camera doesn’t find Miles Kasey, it catches him mid-stride. His boots grinding against concrete, steady, deliberate. There is no hesitation or wasted movement. The kind of walk that doesn’t lead to a fight, it leads to a decision already made. The SCW Internet Championship rests over his shoulder, but it’s not being shown off. It’s not being acknowledged. It’s just there...like everything else in his life right now.

“Have you ever noticed...” His voice cuts through the quiet, low and even, “...how people like Brandon Hendrix talk a big game about being dangerous...but they never do it alone?”

He keeps walking, he doesn’t look at the camera yet.

“They shout loudly. They puff their chest out. They throw around that little nickname like it means something...”

Now he glances over, his blue eyes sharp and focused.

“‘F’n.’”

A faint smirk creeps across his face, “Yeah... I’ve seen a lot of those.”

He rolls his shoulders slightly as he walks.

“Blokes who think throwing a swear word in the middle of their name suddenly makes ‘em something you should fear.” A small shake of his head comes next followed simply by “It doesn’t. It just means you’re trying too hard to convince everyone else...you’re not exactly what you are.”

He slows his steps, not stopping and just letting the moment stretch.

“And what you are, Brandon...” Now he stops, finally, "...is a man who doesn’t know how to win on his own.”

The words land flat and cold with absolutely no theatrics behind it and just the truth...or at least, his truth.

“At Blaze of Glory...You didn’t beat LJ. You didn’t outthink him. You didn’t outfight him. You waited and you watched.”

His voice drops to that dangerous level, “And when the moment came?”

A slight tilt of his head, “You hid behind bodies. You call that smart.”

A small, humorless chuckle.

“Nah mate...that is what I call weak.”

He paces now, slow, controlled, like he’s circling something that isn’t there yet, but will be, "You see...I’ve been around long enough to recognize a certain type of man.”

A glance back to the camera.

“The kind who only feels big when he’s standing in the middle of a group. The kind who talks a lot about chaos...but doesn’t actually know how to control it. You’re not chaos, Brandon...You’re a symptom to a much larger problem in his industry.”

“You’re what happens when someone mistakes numbers for power. You think because you had bodies around you that night... that means you did something. No. All it means...”

His voice tightens just slightly.

“...is that you couldn’t do it yourself. You didn’t beat my brother. You robbed him and may whatever God or Gods you believe in be merciful when he is ready to come back and rip you limb from limb because when it does happen, I promise you that I’m going to enjoy every moment.”

That one carries weight.

“But see Brandon... at this moment, after EVERYTHING that has happened...that’s where this stops being about wrestling.”

He taps his chest.

“And then it becomes about principle. This becomes about understanding something real simple...”

His eyes lock dead into the camera now.

“You don’t get to take from my family...and think there’s no consequence. Because now you’re standing there thinking this is just a rematch after I whooped your fucking ass before you took on my brother. You think this is just another night. You think you’re walking into another situation where you can play the numbers... play the angles... play the game.”

He shakes his head again.

“No. This time... it’s just you. And me.”

“I’ve given you a moment. I am glad they have given this a Hardcore Rules stipulation. Because you Brandon....You wanted chaos.”

A flicker of something crosses his face....Approval.

“You got it.”

He adjusts the title on his shoulder, “You see, the difference between me and you? You use chaos to survive.”

His head tilts slightly, “I use it to finish things, you can ask Alex Jones about that one though I’m sure he’d more than likely put your head through a wall first than answer you. But it’s a thing now, finding the calm in the chaos and using it and Brandon, there’s no referee saving you from that.”

“And if your little friends think about getting involved again....They’re not saving you either. They’re just giving me more targets.”

That lands heavier than anything before it.

“You wanted to make a name for yourself? Congratulations. You got mine.”

He let it sit in quiet long enough to feel the shift to hear the seagulls scream from a distance, Because now, it’s not just anger....It’s intent.

“Sunday...You’re gonna walk into that ring thinking you’ve been in fights before. You haven’t been in one like this. You haven’t been in one where the man across from you isn’t trying to win...He’s trying to make sure you understand what you did.”

“And I’m gonna take my time doing it and enjoy each and every fuckin’ moment of it, bruv. You’re gonna feel every second of it. Every mistake. Every shortcut. Every time you thought hiding behind someone else made you untouchable. And when it’s done...”

A faint, almost cruel calm settles in.

“You won’t be thinking about wins. You won’t be thinking about titles. You’ll be thinking about whether it was worth it.”

He steps in close, closer than before. Right up to the lens.

“Because I’m not just beating you, Brandon...I’m correcting you just enough to know that the end, for you, is coming fast.."

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!