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« on: May 01, 2026, 08:01:57 PM »
“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.
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