Turnberry Towers,
Las Vegas - the morning after Halloween

The condo was quiet in that hour between 11 and noon. The drapes were pulled wide open, allowing for the sun to shine fully through the floor to ceiling  windows. The holiday decorations had yet to be taken down for another year, a chore Miles and Carter had reserved for later that day.

Kevin Chapman was huddled in the family's gaming nook, in front of the TV and fingers flying across the controller as his character in Baldur’s Gate 3 took his turn dodging and slashing through a horde of goblins. Kevin had been making great strides at school, still shy in his newness but having taken that all-important first step in trying to make some friends. He had joined two clubs at Carter and Miles's understanding. A video game club and one geared toward the LGBTQ student body.

Miles and Carter agreed that this must be where Kevin met his “friend” Connor.

That's why Kevin was so focused on his gaming today, playing multiplayer with three club members. The teenager was so focused on his party making short work of the goblin encampment that he all but ignored the giant bowl of Halloween candy on the coffee table in front of him.

From the kitchen area, Miles leaned casually against the counter, nursing his own mug, watching Kevin’s game with a smirk, finding as much enjoyment in watching him play as if he were playing himself.

“You’ve officially killed more goblins than Carter's had cups of coffee.” Miles jested as Kevin's half elf sorcerer sent a fireball into a huddled group of goblins, igniting the whole lot

Kevin smiled, his eyes never leaving the screen. “That’s because I’m emotionally committed to saving Faerûn.”

He paused only to set the controller down and stretch.  He declared, “Okay, time-out. I need a Dr Pepper.”

He walked into the kitchen and pulled a can from the bottom shelf of the fridge. As he popped the tab and took a long sip, Miles said, “That stuff will rot your teeth.”

Kevin lowered the can and replied, “So will those six Reece's Cups you called breakfast.”

Miles was about to reply but stopped, hand raised and mouth open before he conceded, “Touche.” Satisfied he got in the last word, Kevin made to resume his game when Miles called him.

“Hey, Kev.” The teen turned and saw Miles wearing a smile that did not bode well. You know that cheeky, smarmy smile? “Wanna see something funny?”

Kevin lowered the can, asking, “Should I be worried?”

“Naw!” Miles declared as he walked over to a wooden shelf resting against the foyer wall where a CD Player in the shape of a jukebox was set up. A set up that hadn’t seen much use since the early 2000s, but Carter had a thing for nostalgia and it was a gift from his Grams. Miles flipped the switch and pressed play.

A few seconds later, the bright and unmistakable sound of sleigh bells filled the condo, followed by a clear and familiar voice….

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need…”

Kevin froze mid-sip. His head swiveled slowly toward Miles, who was already grinning like a child about to attack his Christmas presents with no one in his way.

Kevin shook his head, groaning, “MIles! It’s only November first…!” But before he could finish, the bedroom door opened and Carter stepped out into the hall.

His hair was mussed up, classic bed head, and his eyes were still filled with sleep, or the desire for it. But the expression on his face? Now that was pure judgment. He stood there for a second, just long enough to look around at what he was seeing in front of him. Kevin frozen by the fridge, Miles standing beside the CD player, and Mariah Carey’s holiday anthem playing through the condo.

Without saying a word, Carter crossed the threshold without saying so much as a word. He reached the CD player, popped open the top, and forcibly popped the disc out, holding onto it like a bomb expert might hold onto a live explosive.

Miles’s grin faltered only slightly, reasoning, “Carter? Love? It’s just a little festive music…” But Carter wasn’t listening to reason. He turned and walked past them and straight through the living room. He opened the sliding glass door to the patio and then, without hesitation, Carter flung the CD like a frisbee into the vast expanse of the city! It vanished somewhere over the pool deck, maybe toward Paradise Avenue, maybe into legend, never to be seen again!

He then slid the door shut again, turned, and walked back toward the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Miles, doubled over, couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. He staggered back to the kitchen and practically fell against the island counter.

“Oh my god!” He declared between gasps for breath. “He yeeted Mariah into Nevada!”

Kevin just stood there, Dr Pepper still halfway to his mouth, jaw slack. “He didn’t even say anything.”

Miles managed to straighten up, wiping his eyes. “No words needed, Kev! Not when you’re an artist!”

Outside, somewhere in Vegas, Mariah Carey’s reign had been briefly interrupted.

Later in the day

Just after noon, all had returned to normal, well, as normal as this household was truly capable of becoming. Carter had finally dragged himself out of bed, all thoughts and memories of the Mariah Carey ambush forgotten as the first thing he did was prepare lunch for his family. By his own admission, Carter was not the greatest cook but just his efforts were more than appreciated by his husband and Kevin.

And while Carter put the finishing touches on rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, Miles leaned against the counter, studying something on his phone before he spoke up, “Alright, I’ve got an errand to run before traffic gets bad.”

Meanwhile, Carter fished a tumbler from a cabinet and filled it with water, saying casually, “Yeah, I have to make a quick stop at the mall anyway this afternoon.”

Miles glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “The mall, huh?” There was a teasing edge in his voice, Miles fully aware of his husband’s love for all things shopping, and being so close to the holidays? The idea of turning Carter loose on the mall would be like setting the Tasmanian Devil loose in the forest.

Carter sighed, already anticipating whatever Miles was going to imply. He said, “Before you say anything, it’s for my Mom.”

Miles tilted his head, grin softening. “Oh?”

“She mentioned wanting a nice pants suit for her office meetings but can’t find one in Seattle that’s the right color.” Carter explained.

“What color does she want?” Kevin asked casually, looking up from his texting for the first time.

Carter answered, “Lavendar. So I had one custom ordered a few weeks ago. Just got the text from Neiman Marcus that it’s ready for pickup.”

Miles’s smile was genuine now. “That’s actually really sweet.” He said. “She’ll love it.”

Carter shrugged, all but indifferent to the praise. He didn’t do these things for his Mom and Grams for any form of recognition. He did it because he was able to. His Mom spent years facing adversity in raising him, and now that he was financially stable and independent? He was able to return the favor by spoiling her a little bit.

He said, “She deserves it.” Carter then turned to Kevin who, feeling his eyes on him, glanced up from whatever conversation he was having via text messaging.

“Wanna come with?” Carter asked. “Could get a smoothie while I pick it up.”

Kevin hesitated, thumb hovering over his phone. “Um, actually?” He said with an awkward half-smile. “Connor texted me. He was asking if I wanted to hang out. Maybe catch a movie or something.”

He looked from Carter to Miles, then back again. Almost as if he was concerned that turning him down and asking might somehow offend them. “Is that okay?”

Carter blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Of course that’s fine, Kev. Go have fun.”

“Glad to see you hanging out with some of your friends. Or, at least one of them.” Miles said, fishing a wallet from his back pocket. As he passed behind Carter, he casually slipped a folded twenty into Kevin’s hand, murmuring, “Don’t tell him I gave you that.”

Kevin’s face brightened. “Thanks.” He said quietly, as if sharing a secret of utmost importance and hurriedly tucking the cash in his pocket.  He then casually said, “I haven’t really hung out with anyone. Not on weekends, anyway. We’re always on the road.”

Kevin hurriedly continued, as if he was trying to right a wrong that he somehow committed. “I mean, I really love it… How many guys my age get to travel and hang out with famous wrestlers? It’s just…”

He trailed off, and the look on his face was more telling than the words. A flicker of guilt crossed both men’s expressions.

Miles met Carter’s gaze, brow furrowed slightly. Carter’s mouth pressed into a line, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. This particular revelation landed with unexpected weight. Miles then forced a soft smile, trying to pull the mood back up. “Need a ride to meet Connor?”

Kevin shook his head. “He’s picking me up. Should be here in a bit.” He hesitated, then added with shy hope. “I’m hoping to start learning to drive soon. That’d help.” Something else that Miles and Carter would have to tack onto the ever-growing list of Things To Do When Raising A Teenager.

Miles turned to put his wallet back on the counter, and as he did, Carter walked around the island and subtly slipped a folded twenty into Kevin’s hoodie pocket, murmuring, “Don’t tell him I gave you that.”

Kevin stifled a grin. If there was an Olympic event for accidental generosity, both men would have gone on to win gold medals. “Thanks.” He said, grabbing his phone, and heading toward the door, “See you guys later!”

The door closed softly behind him, leaving a small pocket of silence in his wake. For a moment, neither Miles nor Carter spoke. Then Carter leaned on the counter, arms folded, eyes drifting toward the floor. “You ever wonder if dragging him along to all the shows is hurting his social life?”

Miles exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I do. But what else can we do? We can’t just leave him here alone in Vegas.”

Carter nodded, jaw tightening slightly. “I know. I just don’t like the idea of him missing out.”

The conversation faded into the kind of quiet only shared guilt brings. That lingering ache of two people who know they’ve been doing their best, yet still feel like it’s not quite enough. These two men feeling concerned, thoughtful, and a little bit ashamed that the life they loved might be costing the kid something precious.

Neiman Marcus -
Fashion Show Mall

Soft music hummed through the air, jazzy and indulgent. Carter stepped up to the counter, the gift box containing his Mom’s new tan dress suit with matching white blouse expertly folded inside already in the clerk’s hands.

“This is for your mother?” The woman behind the counter asked conversationally.

Carter nodded and said, “Yeah. She mentioned needing a new outfit for meetings, so I had one tailored for her. I’m just glad you guys were able to come through on such short notice.”

“That’s sweet.” The clerk said with genuine approval. “Not every son thinks like that.”

She then handed him his package and asked, “Anything for yourself today?”

“Not today.” He answered with a shake of the head. “I’m trying to cut back on indulging.” He said but his eyes wandered to some of the nearby displays.

“Cutting back, huh?” She turned slightly and gestured to a display just behind her. “Because this just came in. Limited edition.”

Carter glanced over and his attention was on point. It was a long-sleeve dress shirt, rich in cinnamon color with a subtle sheen that caught the light. The kind of shirt that could turn heads in any room, yet still look timeless. He stepped closer, fingertips brushing the fabric. It was smooth, almost silky. He couldn’t help but pick it up and admire it before stepping in front of a mirror, holding the shirt against him.

“Damn.” He half muttered. “That’s perfect.”

The clerk smiled from behind the counter, recognizing that look that all shoppers wore. Carter stood there a moment longer, then he sighed, putting it back where he got it. “Maybe next time. Today’s about her.”

He offered a polite smile and left the store, and that glorious shirt, behind him.

Early Evening

The condo was quiet again when Carter returned. Miles had not yet returned and Kevin was still at the movies with Connor. Carter set his keys down on the counter and carried the Neiman Marcus box into the bedroom. He walked to the door of the walk-in and pulled it open.

And froze.

There, hanging neatly among his shirts and jackets, was the cinnamon-colored dress shirt from the store. The metallic sheen caught the fading light from the bedroom window just as it had under the boutique’s overhead track lightning. The price tag was still attached.

Carter didn’t move. His pulse ticked up. The air in the room felt heavier. He stepped closer, his fingertips hovering just above the fabric, barely touching. He turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the bedroom door, listening to the silence of the condo. No movement. No sound.

The faint reflection of himself in the mirrored closet wall stared back. He looked down at the box still tucked under his arm, then back at the shirt. A long beat passed, and then, slowly, Carter closed the closet door. He stumbled back on unsteady legs and fell against the bed, almost missing it entirely as he sat.

---

“I'm going to tell everyone out there a little joke. And I'm not talking about one of those funny ‘ha ha’ kind of jokes that literally leave you breathless and make your ribs hurt. I'm talking about one of those type of jokes that has you scratching at the back of your head and making you wonder what the heck is going through the mind of the person responsible.”

“And it all starts with my confessing a little something. Something that still blows my mind to this day even though you would think that I'd be used to it by now. And that's this…”

“After everything I’ve done, after every single time that I’ve gone out there injured and put this company on my back! Every time I've bled and sweat, every time I've been hurt, and won since May! There are still these narrow minded jack offs out there lining up to tell anyone that's willing to listen (not to mention a few that are not) that I don’t have any business being the World Heavyweight Champion!”

“Let that sink in for a second. After beating legends, after shutting down the ones everyone swore would shut me up and put me in my place, after months of surviving matches that would have ruined other men, I still have some wannabe spotlight junkie out here trying to spin the narrative that I’m not worthy. That I’m not ‘World Championship material!’ That I’m the equivalent to a wrestling figure that you'd find at the dollar store as compared to what you would find at Toys R Us! A so-called downgrade to what the fans actually want!”

“A downgrade. Yeah, that’s really funny! Because if I’m the downgrade, then what the hell does that make all the people I’ve already beaten? Let’s start with the top two names I beat as the champion, shall we?”

“Alex Jones? Beaten! J2H? Beaten! Shall I go on? Oh please, yes! Allow me to continue! Since May, I have recorded wins over those two greats! Vincent Lyons! Artie! Eddie Lyons! Oh, wait! Are you ready for this next one? Aiden Reynolds! Yeah, the very same Aiden Reynolds who is going around, talking shit about me and saying I don’t have any business standing where I am today! But yeah, sure! I’m the one that doesn’t belong!”

“You know what I’ve learned since becoming champion? The biggest lie in wrestling is that once you win the big one, once you get that must desired World title belt around your waist, you’re done proving yourself. People think you can just relax. They think the debate’s over. You’ve climbed the mountain, planted the flag, and now you just exist. Well, let me tell you the reality of that.”

“What a crock of shit!”

“Winning the championship doesn’t mean you’ve stopped proving yourself! If anything, it means the complete opposite! It means you’ve got to prove it every single day! Every match, every promo, every time you step into that ring! You have to prove that you’re not a fluke! You have to prove that it wasn’t luck! You have to prove that your name belongs next to the ones they hang banners for! And I’d like to think that I have proven myself recently but there are still some naysayers who will gladly tell you otherwise.”

“Do you actually think walking into the ring against Alex Jones is easy? Dispute our differences and the fact I think he’s a pretentious asshole, the man is a respected veteran of this business and has earned his spot! I mean, for God’s sake! He’s the one that ended the reign of Finn Whelan so if that doesn’t cement his standing, what the hell does!?”

“And then there’s J2H! Looking back to his origins, he used to be the running joke of the locker rooms! A glorified jobber that literally nobody took seriously! But then the man actually pushed aside his pride and his bank account and did what he had to do to make something of himself! To make people take him seriously! And until Finn came along, J2H had that record for longest World title reign! J2H was the standard bearer! I still remember when he won Blast From the Past and secured his title shot against me. Almost immediately that was when I started to hear the whispers from the armchair experts that this was where I was going to fall. They were all saying things that I’ve heard before! Things like ‘He’s a novelty act.’ and ‘He’s not serious enough.’ And do you know something?”

“Every single self-proclaimed expert with a Twitter account and an opinion got real quiet after that bell rang.”

“And now, here comes Aiden Reynolds. The guy I once thought incredibly highly of because he was true to himself and saw no reason to be the fluff of the industry. The guy I praised before and after Violent Conduct X. The guy I gave respect to because I thought he earned every single bit of it. And what does he do? He turns his back, opens his mouth, and starts running it like a kid who just learned a new curse word. All because he couldn’t handle losing.”

“That’s jealousy for you. And it served for me as a stark reminder of the truth of this industry. That being that every handshake hides ambition. Every smile in the locker room is someone waiting for you to slip so they can take what you bled to earn. Respect isn’t shared here. It’s seized, defended, and stolen back again. Wrestling has this way of pulling the mask off people. You think you know them. You think you’ve got friends, allies, people who get it and will have your back throughout adversity. But then you win something they wanted for themself and suddenly their respect turns into resentment.”

“Aiden wants to call me a downgrade? Buddy, you might want to talk to your mentor about that, because who the hell do you think I beat for this title? Who did I pin to take the gold home? Alex Jones! And then I petitioned the higher ups to give Alex the title shot he deserved, despite everything, and what happened? I defended it … successfully! So what does that make Alex, huh? What does that say about your precious mentor if the ‘downgrade’ walked into the ring, stared him down twice, and left with the championship both times?”

“Go ahead, I’ll wait.”

“Now let's talk about J2H. The ‘Crown Jewel’ of professional wrestling. Everybody said that was going to be the end of me. They said that match would be the moment I realized I was out of my depth. But guess what? The living legend didn’t humble me. He validated me. He stood across the ring from me, brought the fight, and I was the one that stood tall at the end. That night, I didn’t just survive. I won!”

“But somehow, in the minds of the bitter and the broken, I’m still a downgrade. And in the end, it’s always the same story, isn’t it? When I win, it’s luck. When they lose, it’s excuses. They can’t handle that the guy who laughs, dances, and is the ‘Pride of SCW’ is also the guy that’s better than them inside of the ring!”

“Now, Aiden Reynolds says I can’t be taken seriously because I don’t take things seriously. Only… who says that I don’t? Is it because I smile when I’m around the fans? Is it because I have fun doing something I love doing? Is it because when I walk into that ring, I make people feel something? Is that why you don’t think I’m serious, Aiden?”

“Are you honestly telling me that because I don’t brood in a corner and walk past fans who hold their hands out to me, that I don’t belong here?”

“You want to talk about emotion, Aiden? You’ve got the emotional depth of a roll of toilet paper! You walk to the ring, you wrestle, and you leave. There’s nothing behind your eyes. There’s no spark, no connection… Aiden? You’re a man without a soul. Meanwhile, the fans connect with me because I’m real. I’m not playing some fake tough guy act. I’m not out here pretending to be a tortured soul who can only express himself through inflicting pain on someone else!”

“I’m myself! 100% unfiltered, unapologetic … me!”

“So you can talk all you want about how I don’t take things seriously, but here’s the truth Aiden. I take having and being fun seriously. This business is built on passion! On heart. On giving people a reason to come back next week!  And I give them that reason every damn time! All you give them are excuses to visit the popcorn stand or a quick trip to the restroom in the hope that something more exciting will be coming up next! So if you want to wrestle like a robot, fine. But don’t come crying to me when the crowd forgets your name five minutes after your last match ends!”

“Aiden says I’m in some kind of funk. That I’m off my game and can’t get out of my own head. All I can say to that is since when is being human a crime? Yeah, I have my off days. I admit it. I have depression. I get anxiety over things others would consider small. But you know what’s funny about that? Even on my worst day, I’m still better than you on your best.”

“You want to talk about funks, Aiden? Maybe you should take a good, long look in the mirror. Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one drowning your sorrows in a bottle, then coming online to play therapist about how ‘Carter’s not focused.’ You’re not fooling anyone. You’re projecting. There’s a difference.”

“And then… Oh and then! You saved the absolute best part for last, didn’t you? Because Aiden is too much of an uneducated Trogoldyte who can’t win a war of words, he instead goes for the lowest-hanging fruit possible. He drags my husband into it. Aiden thought that was going to get under my skin. He thought talking about my personal life would shake me, make me slip. It was his sad little attempt at mind games. A little extra assist from Alex Jones, I’m hazarding a guess. Well, it didn’t work, Buttercup. It just showed how desperate you really are.”

“You can’t handle the fact that Miles and I love each other. That we’ve got something real, something solid, something you’ll never have because you’re too busy trying to prove to the world how tough you are when in reality, you are completely alone where it matters most! You hate seeing us happy. You hate that our love doesn’t fit into your fragile idea of masculinity. In another life, Aiden, you must’ve been an American Republican!”

“And I feel for you, Aiden. I honestly do. Maybe one day you’ll find someone who can put up with your mood swings, your ego, and your terrible taste in gas station whiskey. Until then, though, keep our names out of your mouth!”

“I just find it hilarious that Aiden is trying to say that Miles’s so-called lack of success where it matters is somehow my fault. Bitch, do you remember the first Elimination Chamber in SCW history? Yeah, Miles was the one that eliminated the Hall of Famer J2H! How many people can say they hold a pinfall win over James? Present company excluded?”

“I think Aiden is glossing over the important fact that unlike him, Miles is a champion. He won the Internet Championship in a match that, and correct me if I’m wrong here, your mentor walked away empty handed!”

“So let’s play connect-the-dots, shall we? Miles beat J2H. Miles is the current Internet champion! But sure, tell me again how I’m the problem!”

“You’ve got this narrow-minded idea that a champion has to be intimidating! That being intimidating is the same as being great! Newsflash, Aiden! Intimidation is only a state of mind. You think scary means scowling into a camera and flexing your muscles and talking about violence like you’ve never been hugged! You want to know what’s really scary, Aiden?”

“It’s the idea of a so-called real man like you stepping into the ring with a man like me and losing! Twice! Because when that happens, all the things you cling to, whether it be the machismo, the posturing or the idea that being loud makes you right? It’s all going to crumble down around your feet, ready to be swept away by history!”

“See, I’m not the World Champion because I’m bigger, stronger, or meaner than everyone else. I’m the World Champion because I’m better. Because I was trained by the best! Because I understand what this business is about! Because I bring the heart, the soul, the connection that you can’t fake, can’t manufacture and can’t imitate! “

“So you can call me all the names that you want! You can question my worth and spin your little narratives about how I don’t belong. Trust me, you’re not saying anything that I haven’t already heard a hundred times over! But when that bell rings, just you, me, and the truth! And the truth is you can’t beat me! Not then. Not now. Not ever!”

“High Stakes is our biggest night of the year, every year! For most, it’s a dream. For you, it’s about to become a nightmare. You’re gonna walk into that match thinking you’re the hero of your story. You’ll convince yourself that you’re destined to win. That it’s your redemption arc. So please Aiden, allow me the grace of offering you an early reality check! You don’t get to decide who belongs! You don’t get to define what a champion looks like! You don’t get to rewrite history just because it doesn’t flatter you!”

“You called me a downgrade, but here’s the reality. Downgrades quit. Champions endure. And like it or not, I’m still here! Still the World Heavyweight Champion! You’re walking into High Stakes thinking it’s your chance to take the throne, but when it’s over, when you’re lying flat on that mat staring up at the lights, you’ll finally understand why the fans believe in me! And it’s not because I’m the scariest or the loudest. It’s because I’m the realest!”

“And reality always wins!”

The weather over Las Vegas had been picture-perfect with clear blue skies stretching across the skyline of the famed “City of Sin” without a cloud in sight. The sun was shining warm but gentle enough as temperatures settled comfortably in the mid-70s since early this morning and did not raise a single degree above 80. It had been the kind of day that felt bright and open as autumn slowly  settled in.

Carter pulled the lime green Volkswagen Beetle into the long line of vehicles outside Las Vegas High just as the dismissal bell rang through the campus. To say his car stood out among the literal menagerie of newer and more colorful vehicles driven by the other parents, grandparents, and guardians, all who were waiting (in)patiently for their high schoolers would be a gross understatement. All the better for Kevin to spot Carter's ‘little bug’ from a mile away.

Carter drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, sunglasses on, elbow casually hooked out the open driver-side window like he was posing for an autumn holiday ad campaign. In fact, he caught a prototypical soccer mom staring at him from the relative anonymity of her SUV. You know the type. Bleached blonde hair with that ‘duck tail’ style over her eyes. Too much spray tan and sunglasses two sizes too big.

When he caught her looking, she actually had the audacity to sneer at him. As if to say ‘ How dare you look at me when I'm looking at you ‘. So Carter, being the kind and mature individual that he is, responded in kind. By puckering his lips and blowing her a kiss, resulting in her hurriedly averting her gaze.

Mission accomplished.

Carter then turned back to watch as kids spilled out of the front entrance, the chatter of weekend plans and bemoaning homework assignments bouncing between them. The yellow school buses idled further down, waiting for their charges. Carter idly remembered what it felt like riding those buses, especially when going home. It felt like such a sense of freedom. Carter spotted Kevin quickly enough, but what drew Carter’s eye was the kid walking beside him. A relatively big kid for his age. Husky, easily six feet tall with strawberry blonde hair, stood out without even trying. The two boys were talking quietly, their heads slightly leaned toward one another in a way that communicated familiarity. Not awkward. Not forced. Actually comfortable. Interesting. Carter could not help but smile, knowing that Kevin was well on his way to making friends at his new school, despite any worries toward the contrary.

Kevin looked up, laughing about something the boy had said to him, and the flash of lime green gave Carter away instantly. His expression flickered. Not displeased but certainly not the way it lit up for Miles, either. If he noticed, Carter buried the reaction down deep.

The boys exchanged a quick goodbye before Kevin cut away from him and started toward the car while the ‘mystery boy’ headed for one of the buses, ready to deliver him home. Carter watched him until the passenger seat opened and Kevin climbed in, slinging his backpack into the back seat.

“Hey.” Kevin greeted, always polite, but quiet enough as if he was a child who just got caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

Carter nodded toward the direction the big kid had walked. “Who’s that?” He asked.

Kevin’s hand stalled halfway through attempting to buckle his seatbelt. “Just a friend.”

It was a shy answer. One of deflection that every teenager crafted to perfection (or at least thought they did) to ward off interfering (nosey) adults. Carter caught it, but despite his genuine curiosity and a mad desire to tease, he did absolutely nothing to draw more information from out of the teen beside him than he was ready to give.

Kevin settled into the passenger seat, asking the obvious, “Miles didn’t come?”

“Nope.” Carter carefully pulled the Beetle out of the pick up line and merging into traffic without hesitation. “Sorry but you’re stuck with me.”

Kevin sank back into the seat, not irritated, just unsure of himself and his present situation. He glanced briefly at the dashboard, the familiar sight of the Stitch bobbing on his weighted mount. “Oh. Okay.”

Carter tried not to let Kevin’s reaction get to him, but truth be told it did bother him. Miles had bonded with Kevin over the months when he was rescued and recuperating in the hospital. And as much as Carter tried to be there for him, it seemed like the teenager kept him somewhat at arms length.

“Well,” Carter spoke as the Beetle wove about its way into traffic, paying careful heed now that he had a special passenger. A promise he made to Miles. “I hope you’re not in any kind of hurry to get home because I have to hit the Mall real quick. Miles is meeting us there for dinner.”

Kevin turned to him. “You didn’t tell me we were going out…”

“I know, sorry about that but…” Carter said easily. “Surprise?”

Kevin sank further into his seat, if that were at all possible. Carter then added, “Figured this gives us some time to talk.”

Kevin paused before asking “About what?”

“Let’s get there first.” Was all Carter said for the time being…


Twenty minutes later, the duo of Carter and Kevin were stepping inside Fashion Show Mall, an air-conditioned chill sweeping across everyone who passed inside from the streets of Vegas to the vast interior. The Friday crowd was already heavy, even in the early afternoon, with shopping bags, screaming children and teenagers roaming in clustered packs. Carter walked naturally, hands in pockets, comfortable navigating anywhere.

Kevin kept pace beside him, not quite shoulder to shoulder. Not as comfortable.

They passed a Coca-Cola branded kiosk, Carter paused long enough to buy a cold bottled Dr. Pepper and handed it directly to Kevin without even asking. An act that months ago would have been unheard of. Carter tried to eat well, he had his cheats and failures, but he had maintained the belief that soda was nothing more than liquid candy that rotted teeth. Then along came Kevin and his stance softened with the heart of a teenager who had gone without the simple things too often.

Kevin blinked at it before he unscrewed the cap and took a deep and appreciative drink. “Thanks.”

“Sit with me a sec,” Carter said, leading him toward a long bench near a palm installation. They sat together but Carter didn’t talk right away. Instead, Carter breathed slowly and quietly, people watching briefly rather than keep an eye on the teenager beside him.

Finally Carter spoke out of the blue, “Did I ever do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Kevin froze mid-sip.

He visibly collected himself before answering. “No. Why?”

“The little things,” Carter answered, lifting a hand, gesturing vaguely. “When Miles isn’t home, you usually go down to Missus Thompson’s. Or your room. You don’t hang out with me in the living room. You don’t ever say no, you’re not rude, but you… I guess evaporate is the word I’m looking for.”

Kevin said nothing and Carter continued. “When I pulled up just now.” Carter added lightly, “You kinda looked disappointed it wasn’t Miles.”

Kevin exhaled weakly through his nose. “That’s not…”

But Carter interrupted, being Carter. “And I really hope Miles hasn’t been poisoning my reputation by slandering my driving again.”

That resulted in a tiny laugh out of Kevin. “He said you flirt your way out of tickets.”

“Oh, that hypocrite!” Carter said instantly, with obvious theatrical disdain. “He wears gray sweatpants or those special shorts to get me to agree to whatever he wants. The man has no room to talk!”

Kevin almost choked on the Dr. Pepper.

Carter glanced at him, finally looking directly at him. “Did I do something to upset you? You can tell me. I promise I won't get upset.”

Kevin’s fingers tightened around the cold plastic bottle. His eyes stayed on the floor tiles but he didn’t answer. Not at first. In fact, Carter was fairly certain he wasn’t going to until he heard the hushed whisper, I don’t know how to act around you. After what my mom did.”

Carter went still. He stared ahead for a moment then lowered his head slightly. “Do you blame me?” He asked carefully. “For what happened to your family?”

Kevin’s heartbeat jumped but he answered fast. “No.” He paused, waited a brief time again before he continued, “I blame her. But the fact she tried to have you seriously hurt or…”

“Kevin.” Carter cut in immediately. “That was not you. That was your mom. You are not your mom.”

Kevin’s voice cracked, silently, but he didn’t look up.

“Hey.” Carter leaned in, gentler, locking eye contact this time because he needed it received. “You don’t ever have to worry about how I feel. Ever.”

Silence. Kevin’s grip had gone white-knuckled on the bottle. Kevin’s voice was barely audible as he whispered, “I thought maybe you hated me for it.”

“If I hated you…” Carter said simply. “You would not be living in our house. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone out of my way to spoil you rotten every five minutes. Which I take great pride in, thank you.”

That finally drew a genuine smile from the teenager.
Carter spoke, “Hey. Look at me a sec?”

Kevin did, hesitantly.

“I wanted to ask you something. And I wanted you to be one hundred percent honest with me. You wouldn’t get in trouble, and I wouldn’t get butt hurt.”

Kevin tensed, bracing.

Carter finally asked. “Did it upset you, or make you uncomfortable, when I called my mom ‘grandma’? Or when I told Bella and Malachi you were our son?”

Kevin instantly flinched. He stared at the fountain, then at some passing kids — anywhere but at Carter. His hands twisted and twisted in his sleeves. There was a long, silent beat heavy enough to feel in the chest. Kevin swallowed before he answered.

“It doesn’t upset me,” he finally whispered. “Not really. It just... I guess feels a little weird. That’s all. I’m not mad. It’s just still new.”

Carter exhaled, gently nodding. “That’s fair.” He said. “And I’m sorry. With Malachi it genuinely was just to bust his chops for being a little bitch. Then it just ... I guess it just got away from me. Because Miles and I did see you as family. That wasn’t a joke.”

Kevin’s eyes were low. But he nodded. Accepting but not yet knowing what to do with it. Carter went on, “You’ve just been through so much. I wanted you to have a family again. A real one. Not a temporary one. Not one waiting to see if you screw up. A permanent one.”

Kevin nodded again but this time with a barely audible sound. "I know." He said quietly. “I appreciate it.”

Carter looked away and let the quiet time pass between them. And then, “You know, you and I have a lot in common. Especially when it comes to family.”

That made Kevin look up at him.

Carter told his tale, “I had a pretty happy childhood. My parents were great. At least until I was about your age.”

Kevin blinked. “That’s like me?”

“I'm getting there,” Carter said gently. “It fell apart when my dad caught me making out with my best friend Randy Coppler in my bedroom.”

Kevin flinched with immediate understanding. He asked, “What happened?”

“Everything you’d expect.” Carter answered as the painful memories came flooding back. “Mom accepted me instantly. Dad very much didn’t. He tried to get me sent to conversion therapy and Mom forbid it. Their marriage didn't last much longer. They divorced. Dad vanished.”

Kevin asked, “Did you ever see him again?”

“Not for ten years.” Carter answered. “Not until it was too late.”

Kevin didn’t look away and Carter continued. “He came back. And I treated him like absolute garbage. And I thought I was right. Turns out it was his own family behind everything. Money. Threats. Pressure. They were going to cut him off. He needed that money to feed his wife and kid. So he failed me to save us.”

Kevin’s face wrenched, recognizing the parallels between them.

“I hated him.” Carter said quietly. “Then I found out he was dying. Kidney failure. And all I could think about was how I was going to lose my dad.”

The bright mall felt almost abandoned around them.

“We did reconnect. And I was going to donate a kidney, even though he refused to ask. But he died before I could.”

Carter let out a deep breath before turning to face Kevin directly, head on. “You have a family now with Miles and with me. No expiration date. You don’t ever have to worry about what happens if you mess up.”

Kevin wasn’t crying but his throat did constrict as if fighting to control himself. He whispered, “I don’t know how to believe that, but I want to.”

Carter nodded. “That’s enough." He said. Wanting to is enough. We’d handle the rest. Holidays might be awkward, though.”

Kevin blinked, “Why?”

“Because my Mom and Grams are absolutely going to want to spoil you rotten.” Carter leaned in and added, “And so will Miles’s Mom.”

Kevin just smiled.

Carter’s tone shifted again. “Listen. If I ever do anything I do makes you uncomfortable? You have to tell me. So I can fix it.”

Kevin started to say, “It’s just… you keep buying me all this stuff…”

“Except that.” Carter smiled. “I spoil. It’s what I do. And besides…” Carter finally stood up from the bench. “That’s actually why we’re here.”

“What?”

“Me and Miles think it’s time we got you a phone. And your own laptop.”

Kevin sucked in a quiet breath. “You don’t have to…” He started to protest.

“I know I don’t have to.” Carter said. “I want to. There’s a difference.”

Carter beckoned him with a wave. “Let’s move.”

Slowly, Kevin nodded and pushed himself back to his feet. He looked Carter in the eyes and his guardian asked, “Are we good?”

“We’re good.”

“Alright then.” Carter turned toward the inner corridor flow of shoppers. “Let’s go do some damage before Miles puts a stop to it!”

Kevin stayed beside him as they stepped forward together, vanishing into the masses of Mall shoppers.

---

“So! Vincent … Vinnie! Can I call you Vinnie? Let’s get something straight before your paranoid delusions try to rewrite reality again. This match, this Clash of the Champions? It wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t booked. It wasn’t even necessary. You weren’t supposed to be standing across from me this weekend, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You just had to shove your nose where it didn’t belong, sniffing around like a stray bitch desperate for attention! You stuck your nose into something between Alexander Raven and me, and now you’re running yourself into the ground, trying to justify yourself.”

“See, you could’ve stayed quiet. You could’ve stayed in your lane, polishing that Roulette Championship like it’s the only thing giving your life meaning. Because let’s be real, it probably is. But no. You had to make it about you. And the second you used that as a cue to open your mouth and start flapping your big mouth about my husband and my brother-in-law? That’s where the line got crossed, Vinnie. That’s the moment your little interference turned into an invitation for me to start taking things personally.”

“You didn’t just step into my story, you became the punchline. Because right there, when you started talking about my family, you didn’t step back. You didn’t think to yourself that maybe that’s crossing a line that ought not be crossed. You grinned. You became what the internet calls a ‘pick me girl.”=’ You know the type: Always desperate to prove they’re one of the ‘cool kids,’ always nodding along with the loudest jerk in the room hoping someone, literally anyone, will finally notice them!”

“So congratulations, Vinnie. You officially made the jump from ‘ credible champion’ to ‘high school cheerleader.’ And not even a good one. You’re like the knockoff-brand version, offering discount drama and zero self-awareness.”

“You’ve been walking around, running your mouth and acting like you’re the second coming of wrestling royalty! But all I see is a man who’s so far up his own ass he could probably see daylight out his throat! You want to talk about wins and losses? You want to talk about how you beat LJ? Cute. Real cute. You love to brag about that, huh? You talk about that match like it’s your magnum opus. Like you climbed a mountain. Like you slayed a dragon. But here’s what you’re conveniently forgetting, sugar! August 24th in Cypress. The night when LJ pinned your ass! One, two, three! And if that match had been for your precious little Roulette Championship? You wouldn’t be walking into this weekend with that belt around your waist. You’d be walking in with your tail between your legs and your ego deflated like a cheap dollar store balloon! Probably hanging out in catering and wondering what might have been! But you don’t mention that part, do you? No, you just cherry-pick your wins and bury your losses under selective memory and mental impaired delusion.”

“And this match between us? This isn’t new ground. This is the second time we’ve done this dance. You remember the first, don’t you? Well even if you don’t, you should. Because it wasn’t your arm that got raised at the end. You didn’t walk out a winner. You crawled out a very lucky man… Well, man baby. You only got out of that match with any semblance of dignity because you took the coward’s way out! You grabbed a chair and swung it like your life depended on it, because deep down, you knew it did! Right into my head, sending me to the hospital with a concussion!”

“And don’t think I forgot about that because bitch, trust me when I say I still owe you big for that one!”

“You didn’t take me down. You didn’t pin me. You didn’t beat me. You escaped me. You took the easy way out because the hard way was about to end with you flat on your back, staring up at the lights, wondering where it all went wrong! You didn’t fight me, you survived me!”

“And ever since then, you’ve been clinging to whatever scraps of dignity you could find. You talk a big game, Vinnie, but every time you open your mouth, all I hear is the sound of insecurity echoing off hollow ambition. You don’t believe what you say. You’re just hoping if you repeat it enough, someone else will.”

“And then you had the nerve to go full high school mean girl on me. You couldn’t handle the heat, so you tried to take a cheap shot at my personal life. You called my marriage to Miles … I believe the word you used to describe us was cringe? Really? That’s the best you’ve got? We’re not in the locker room. We’re not in high school. You don’t get points for bitchiness.”

“But since you brought it up, let’s talk about relationships, shall we? See, I’ve got one. A real one. A husband who stands by me, loves me, and doesn’t just tolerate me because of what I can do for him in the bedroom although I certainly do a lot! Meanwhile, you couldn’t get a date in a women’s prison with a fistful of conjugal visit coupons and a bottle of champagne! You want to throw shade about cringe? Your love life is a ghost town! Your own hand falls asleep every time you go for a good wank! The only thing that’s ever committed to you is your reflection and even that’s close to filing a restraining order!”

“I mean … even your own family doesn’t want anything to do with you! Doesn’t that tell you anything? They see the way you isolate yourself. The way you push people away. You talk about legacy like it’s a family heirloom, but the only thing you’ve inherited from the Lyons dynasty is loneliness and denial! You’re the black sheep who thinks he’s a lion. The outcast pretending he was exiled when he was really just cast away.”

“You strut around the backstage and locker rooms like you’re the future of SCW but the sad fact is that the only thing you’re building is a reputation for running your mouth and ducking responsibility. You’re not the future Vinnie. You're the cautionary tale they’ll tell at wrestling training camps when they warn students not to believe their own hype.”

“So before we go any further, let’s get one thing clear. I’m not stepping into that ring to play nice. This isn’t some handshake-and-hug exhibition. This is a reckoning. You stuck your nose in my business, you disrespected my family, you put me in the hospital and now I’m coming to collect interest! And I don’t care if Alexander Raven decides to lurk around ringside trying to be relevant again. He can take a cheap shot if he wants to, but let’s be real. He won’t. Because Raven’s an even bigger candy-ass than you are!”

“The man struts around like he’s mystery incarnate, but I’ve seen scarier things on a Pride parade float. He’s all eyeliner and ego, and you’re on the fast track to becoming his backup dancer! The two of you together? You’re like a Hot Topic clearance rack come to life. So if he wants to insert himself again, he can try. He can take his swing. But I promise you, the second he does, I’ll snap his wings and send him flying right back into irrelevance!”

“So here’s the reality check you’ve been avoiding. I’m not the guy you get over on. I’m not the stepping stone. I’m the wall you crash into when your mouth finally outweighs your talent! See, you can wrap it up however you want. You can call it destiny, you can call it pride, you can call it whatever buzzword you need to feel important, but the truth is simple. You’re not walking into that ring as my equal. You’re walking into that ring as your own karma.”

“And don’t get it twisted because this isn’t about titles. This isn’t about the World Heavyweight Championship. This isn’t about the Roulette belt around your waist. This is about you learning the hard way what happens when you mistake tolerance for weakness. I’ve been patient. I’ve been measured. But patience runs out, and you, Vinnie? You've been cashing checks your body can’t afford to cover because your talent bank account has insufficient funds!”

“You think you’re going to walk into our Main Event match weekend and make a statement? You think this is your moment to shine? Let me tell you something. I am the statement. I’m the headline. You’re just the side quest that wastes the main character’s time! You are just the pre-show attraction pretending that it’s the main event! You can walk down that ramp with all the swagger in the world, wearing that Roulette title like it’s a badge of honor, but deep down, you know it’s just armor. You cling to that belt because it’s the only thing shielding you from the truth! That without it, you’re forgettable. Without it, you’re just another guy with family issues and delusions of grandeur!”

“Do you want to know what makes us different? Unlike you, I don’t need anyone to validate me. I don’t need to beg for attention. I don’t need to be ‘picked.’ I’m the World Heavyweight Champion not because of luck, not because of politics, but because every single time someone’s tried to knock me off this throne, I’ve reminded them that charisma, skill, and authenticity don’t come from pretending! They come from being! And what I am is everything you wish you could be! Confident. Respected. Loved. Admired. You’ve spent your whole career trying to convince people you’re the future, while I’ve been out here proving I’m the now!”

“So when that bell rings, and you’re standing across from me, remember this! Every insult, every little jab, every attempt to tear me down? It all comes due at that moment. Because you’re not fighting the glitz or the glam. You’re not fighting the persona or pride rainbows. You’re fighting the man. The champion. The husband. The brother-in-law. The fighter who’s done playing nice!”

“And I don’t care what Halloween stipulation this ends up as! Casket Match, Trick or Street Fight, Monster’s Ball… Hell! It doesn’t matter if it’s barbed wire and pumpkin pies, because the endgame stays the same! You’re going to walk in cocky and walk out corrected! You’re going to walk in thinking you’re the hero and crawl out realizing you’re just another victim of your own borderline personality disorder!”

“You’ve been running your mouth about how you’re ready for anything, but you’ve never been ready for me. You’ve never faced someone who can dissect you emotionally and physically at the same time! I’m not just going to beat you, Vinnie. I’m going to break you. Mentally as well as physically. I’m going to strip away that false bravado until there’s nothing left but the truth staring back at you! And that truth is that no matter how loud you shout, how hard you hit, how desperately you claw for relevance, you will never … ever … be me!”

“When the dust settles, and the lights dim, and the crowd stops chanting your name out of pity, you’ll finally understand the one universal law of creation! That the world has never known a bigger bitch than a pissed-off gay man!”

The bedroom door opened, revealing Kevin Chapman, a sixteen-year-old teen with curly brown hair and an expression that seemed to fluctuate between hesitation and curiosity and one single bag that contained everything of value that he owned. Flanking him on both sides were his new legal guardians, Carter and Miles, who, by their own admission, were far more excited about this moment than Kevin could possibly understand.

“Go on inside.” Miles encouraged gently, nudging Kevin slightly with a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright."

Almost reluctantly, Kevin took a step forward, barely glancing back before he stepped inside of the bedroom. The sixteen year old paused, taking in every detail yet saying nothing. Not just yet.

The room was decorated in what could only be described as minimal at best. The walls were painted a cream color, giving the room a feeling of being open and airy. A queen-sized bed rested against the far wall, covered in a tanned comforter and pillows that appeared soft and inviting. To the right of the bed, a simple painting hung against the wall that showcased the artist's rendition of a peaceful ocean scene. Below that was a slender vase filled with orchids, Carter’s favorite flower. Kevin had always loved flowers, their colors and scents offering solace in troubled times of which there were plenty. His Mom also loved gardening but her fits of perfection had all but ruined it for him.

His eyes drifted to various memorabilia scattered about. There were a few pieces featuring Stitch from Disney, cheerful reminders that at one point in time, this was Carter’s bedroom before he and Miles became the loving couple they are today. A TV mounted on the opposite wall caught his attention, promising late-night binges of shows he loved but missed.

But what really captured Kevin’s eye was the sliding door, partly concealed by the lace drapery. He could see sunlight pouring in over the balcony that overlooked the cityscape of Las Vegas below. That was when something in Kevin's mind clicked and he turned around, asking, "You guys aren't giving me your room, are you?"

"Our room?" Miles frowned, confused. "No, why?"

"Well, b-because..." Kevin turned back and looked toward the balcony and the dawning of realization struck both Miles and Carter at the same time.

"No, no!" Carter laughed. "There are balconies along every bedroom, even the guest bedrooms. It's just how the place was designed. This was my room once, you can tell by all the Stitch stuff. Then when Miles and I… well… It became a guest room.”

“And now?” Miles added, stepping further inside. “It’s yours.”

There was a slight coloring at the base of Kevin's neck and he turned back to look at the balcony. Then a movement from the corner of his eye attracted his attention and he turned to spot Ms. Thang strolled into the room with a graceful saunter. She had the same sort of attitude that every cat seemed to possess. That she alone ruled this household. Her emerald eyes blinked slowly as she surveyed Kevin, heading immediately for the teen and butted her head against his shin.

Feeling a little uncomfortable under the weight of the moment, Kevin rocked from one foot to the other. He asked hesitantly, “Are you sure you want this? I mean… ?”

Carter stepped forward, a reassuring smile on his face. “Kevin, stop. Please. If we didn't want this, trust me when I say that you wouldn't be here. This is your home now. Not just because you need it, but because we want it."

Kevin bit his lip, glancing at his surroundings again, a natural uncertainty on his features given everything he had been put through over the last year. “I’m not anyone special.  I’m just me.”

That was when Miles stepped right up to the teen and rested a firm but supportive hand on Kevin’s slim shoulder. “You listen to me.” Miles stated flatly. “Don’t ever let either of us hear you say you’re not special because you are!”

Kevin flushed at the praise, words like he was not used to being on the receiving end of. He just nodded and satisfied for the moment, Miles patted his shoulder and stepped back.

Carter said, “I know it’s a little plain now but that’s just because it got transformed into a guest room. But now that it’s yours? We want you to make it your own. Posters, paintings, decorations… If you want new paint or a new bedspread…”

“What if I want to take down the Stitch stuff?” Kevin muttered, half-joking.

Carter shrugged. “I wouldn’t be upset in the slightest.”

Miles resumed his spot close at his husband’s side, sliding an arm around his waist and he smirked, “Except he totally would be upset.” Earning for himself a slight swat to the arm as a result.

Kevin felt a tiny smile tug at his lips. With a faint sigh, he set his bag down onto the bed. Ms. Thang hopped up onto the bed, her curiosity piqued. She sniffed at Kevin’s items, her ears pinning back slightly. Carter’s eyes strayed toward the boy and found himself focusing on his shoes and, for the first time, he noticed just how truly worn out his footwear was. Worn to the soles, dirty … Carter even noticed that there was an obvious hole in Kevin’s sock.

With a frown of concern, Carter turned to Kevin. “Is this really all the clothes you own?” The boy nodded, a wave of embarrassment washing over him.

Carter exchanged glances with Miles. “Okay, we need to remedy this. Get ready.”

“Ready for what?” Kevin asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’m taking you shopping,” Carter announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What? No!” Kevin's protest was instinctive. The thought of someone spending money on him felt overwhelming and undeserved. “You don’t have to do that.”

Carter remained unfazed, shaking his head firmly. “I know I don’t have to Kevin. But I want to.”

Miles sighed, “I better go with you two. Last time Carter went on a shopping spree, he practically emptied the mall.” Miles then clapped Kevin on the shoulder reassuringly. “So imagine what he’s going to try and do for you!”

“Hey!” Carter retorted. “I’m not that bad!” Earning a very obvious eye roll from Miles.

Kevin watched the verbal jousting between the two men. Their excitement and determination to help him felt unlike anything he had ever experienced before. But still, he hesitated.

“I-I don’t even know what to pick.”

Carter met Kevin’s gaze and smiled. “Just think of what makes you feel comfortable. What colors do you like? What styles do you prefer?”

“I…” Kevin trailed off, pondering. His mind raced through memories of what he liked versus what he had settled for over the years. “I guess I like blue? And comfy clothes?”

“We can totally work with comfy and blue!” Miles smiled, steering Kevin toward the door where Carter was waiting.

“Alright then,” Carter said. “Let’s get you some clothes that scream ‘Kevin’ and maybe a new pair of shoes, too. After all, we can’t have Ms. Thang judging you based on your wardrobe!”

The tension in Kevin's shoulders started to ease, a reluctant smile forming on his lips as he felt a flicker of excitement replace his anxiety. “Okay. I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

As they all headed out of the room, Ms. Thang curled up on Kevin’s bed and made herself at home, her eyes closing for a well earned snooze.


Carter adjusted his sunglasses as he stepped out of the car, looking back at Kevin who was still buckled in his seat, eyes wide. He was taking in the sheer magnitude of the mall located on the Las Vegas Strip. The modern exterior, the huge disc that covered the very building itself. It was all... so much!

Kevin glanced at Miles, then back to Carter, “What if we go overboard? You know, with all the stuff?”

Miles chuckled. “Carter is famous for turning shopping trips into full-blown missions.”

Kevin, still adjusting to his role as a teenager now living in unfamiliar luxury, could feel his heart race at the thought of a full day dedicated to him. He was getting new clothes but a big part of him felt uncomfortable about it. Undeserving.

“Let’s stick to the plan,” Miles said, his tone businesslike but warm. “No wild impulse buys, okay?”

Carter rolled his eyes as they led Kevin through the bustling entrance of the mall, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Their first stop was Nordstrom, and Kevin couldn’t help but be drawn in by the sheer variety of styles laid before him. Carter immediately headed toward the men’s section, gesturing for Kevin to follow. It wasn’t long before they were rifling through hoodies, dress shirts, and even some casual pieces. Kevin watched in awe as Carter picked out outfits like a maestro conducting an orchestra.

“How about this?” Carter asked, holding up an amethyst blue hoodie against Kevin’s frame.

Kevin nodded, feeling a thrill run through him and Carter tossed it into their growing pile. He was in his element, combining colors and styles as if he were piecing together a masterpiece. There were dress slacks that would fit perfectly for school presentations and denim jeans that promised comfort at home.

By the time they passed through boutiques such as Macy's, Forever 21 and H&M, Kevin had amassed quite the wardrobe.

At Urban Outfitters, Kevin exclaimed, “I love this graphic tee!” Admiring a shirt featuring a vintage band logo. Carter was already on it, plucking it off the rack without a second thought.

As they moved through the store, Kevin couldn’t help but hold back his concerns. After all, Carter had already spent what felt like a fortune. Kevin leaned closer to Miles. “Miles?” He whispered, glancing at all the items piled high on the counter. “Do you think Carter is spending too much?”

Miles glanced at the cash register where Carter was currently making small talk with the cashier while swiping his card. “Kevin, I know it seems like a lot, but you need to let Carter do this for you. This is what he loves.”

“But he spent over a thousand dollars!” Kevin replied, his anxiety creeping up.

“Two thousand, actually.” Miles interrupted gently, the number making Kevin weak at the knees. “But remember, I’ve handled most of your legal needs. Carter knows what he’s doing. More importantly, this isn’t just about spending money. It’s about helping you. So let him.”

Carter finished paying and approached the two, arms laden with bags. “Are we ready for the next store? I’m thinking decorations for your room!”

Kevin could see how much Carter enjoyed this and somehow, it lifted the weight off his shoulders. “Where to now?”

“Hot Topic, where else?” Carter answered, already leading the way through the mall patrons. As they entered Hot Topic, Kevin’s eyes lit up. Posters and shirts covered the walls, showcasing pop culture icons and their colorful merchandise. “Wow.”

“Grab anything that catches your eye.” Carter encouraged, nudging Kevin further inside.

“I’ve always wanted a poster of that band.” Kevin pointed to the artwork hung on the wall. “And maybe that blanket?”

Carter nodded vigorously. “Whatever you want, add them to the haul!”

Kevin wandered around, picking out accessories and decor. A few band tees, colorful socks, and even a lamp featuring Jack Skellington and Sally. The clerks were friendly, offering suggestions and complimenting his picks, which gave Kevin a shot of confidence.

Before long, they were back outside, and the sheer volume of shopping bags dwarfed Kevin’s small stature. The poor kid was caught somewhere between riding the wave of excitement and disbelief.

“Anyone hungry?” Miles asked, looking over at Kevin, who was inspecting a new pair of sneakers peeking out from one of the bags.

“I actually am,” Kevin admitted, his stomach rumbling audibly.

Carter asked, “What’s your favorite food?”

“Mexican,” Kevin replied, remembering the delicious tacos he had tasted once at a food truck before everything in his life changed.

“Perfect!” Carter exclaimed. “There’s a great Mexican place just a short stroll away from here. Tacos, burritos… You name it! Let’s refuel and call it a day.”

“Babe?” Miles spoke up. “We should probably take the bags to the car before heading for dinner.”

Carter turned and looked at the virtual mountain of shopping bags that they’ve collected, an amount that would in no way fit at any table. He then blinked and turned back to his husband and shrugged, “Why?”


Miles, of course, won out. Or logic did. The trio had taken all of their shopping out to the car and were now seated in a round booth near the center of the busy restaurant. A literal Mexican filled the table, everything that Kevin had said sounded good, Carter and Miles had ordered. Everything from a platter of tacos to cheese enchiladas, burritos and bowls of guacamole and warm chips.

Kevin’s eyes darted from platter to platter. His expression betrayed how badly he wanted to dig in. He reached for a taco, but his movements were still cautious, like he was waiting for someone to tell him he wasn’t allowed.

The first few bites seemed to ease the tension, though, and soon their conversation turned toward the future and what hopeful expectations that it would bring.

“So…” Carter said between bites. “Saturday we’re heading down to Florida.”

Kevin blinked and asked, “Florida?”

Miles nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got an SCW show down there on Sunday. We want you to come with us.”

Kevin’s mouth was agape as he half forgot the taco at his lips. “Me?” He asked. “Seriously?”

“We've got the okay from the court.” Miles said, sipping his drink. “We can take you to the shows with us so long as it doesn’t disrupt your routine.”

Carter added, “Or your school.”

Kevin asked “Wait, school?”

Miles exchanged a quick glance with Carter, then nodded. “We have you enrolled to start as a sophomore next week.”

Kevin frowned, “But … I was a sophomore last year.”

“You didn’t finish the year.” Carter said gently. “So you’ll need to repeat it. Clean slate. Do it right this time.”

Kevin’s shoulders sank. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Carter admitted, “It does. But it’s not the end of the world. You’ll catch up. You’ve got this.”

Kevin gave a reluctant nod, chewing in silence. But both Carter and Miles could see the way his hands tightened around his fork, his body curling inward as if he wanted to disappear.

Miles leaned forward. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Kevin shook his head quickly, avoiding their eyes. “Nothing.”

Carter set down his taco. “Doesn’t look like nothing. Talk to us.”

Kevin hesitated, glancing toward the floor. Finally, almost ashamed, he whispered, “A woman’s been staring at us since we sat down.”

Carter tilted his head slightly. “Who?”

Kevin’s chin lifted, eyes darting toward the table just behind them. “Behind you. Don’t...”

But Carter was already half-turned.

“Wait...!” Kevin hissed.

Too late! Carter’s sharp voice carried across the booth. “Excuse me! What exactly are you staring at!? Do you see us staring at your son and grandson???”

The woman, a middle-aged brunette with too much jewelry and too little subtlety, went scarlet red at his words. She practically screeched in the middle of the restaurant, drawing stares. “This is my husband and son! How dare you!”

Carter rolled his eyes and turned back without missing a beat. “My mistake.” He speared another fajita strip as though nothing had happened. The woman, shocked into silence and cheeks flushed, quickly turned away and back to her embarrassed family.

Kevin sat wide-eyed, his taco forgotten, mouth hanging open. Miles pressed his lips together, fighting the laugh threatening to escape. He patted Kevin’s shoulder. “Any wonder why I married him? You’ll get used to it.”

Kevin looked between the two of them, still stunned, while Carter calmly went back to his meal.

---

The sun shone down on Miami Beach, where colorful umbrellas were as far as the eye could see and the laughter of beachgoers filled the air. And among the crowd was Helluva Bottom Carter, the World Heavyweight Champion, adorned in a rainbow-colored Pride One brief and metallic violet shades, lounging on a large beach towel. His sharp gaze remained fixated on a lively scene in the water.

His husband Miles Kasey splashed about the waves like an overgrown child, along with their sixteen-year-old ward, Kevin Chapman. The boy had come into their lives under heart wrenching circumstances, walls built high around him. Yet, Carter could see the hope flickering behind those defenses as he watched Miles effortlessly draw out Kevin's laughter.

“Violent Conduct X...”

“The name alone gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it? The single most hardcore event of the year. The kind of night where you don’t bring the kids unless you’re ready for them to have nightmares. This is where the bloodthirsty fans in the front row get exactly what they paid for. Where bodies crash through tables, steel bends against bone, and the whole damn show turns into a car wreck you can’t look away from!”

Carter sat up, setting his drink aside on a tray as he drew a knee up against his chest and wrapped his arms around his upper body. His eyes remained hidden behind his shades but his attention was straight forward.

“You think the iconic hardcore events of the indie scene made you squirm? You think Japan’s deathmatches in hardcore promotions made your stomach churn? That’s … cute. Violent Conduct makes all of that look like Sunday afternoon tea with grandma complete with lace doilies and homemade oatmeal cookies. Violent Conduct is where legends are carved out of scars and bruises. And this year on the tenth anniversary? We’re taking it a step farther than it’s ever gone before!”

“I mean, take a look at some of what we’re throwing in your face and tell me if I’m lying. You’ve got the Loser Leaves SCW match between Justin Smith, the man who’s made more people bleed than a surgeon’s scalpel, going against Felix ‘the Cat’ Hernandez. And Felix? That sneaky little bastard who hasn’t got an ounce of loyalty in his body. You’re gonna see chairs fly, tables splinter, maybe even the sand out here in Miami stained red by the time those two are finished with each other!”

“And then you have the Street Fight for the World Bombshell Championship! Kayla Richards and Frankie Holliday! Not a wrestling match, not a contest of holds and counter holds … a straight-up brawl where anything goes! You think the Bombshells can’t hit as hard as the guys? You’re in for a rude awakening because those women are out for blood, belts, and bragging rights!”

“But we’re not stopping there. Oh no! We’ve got the Extreme Funhouse Match. My brother-in-law LJ and his main squeeze Alexandra stepping into a nightmare filled steel cage against the Metal Maniacs. That one’s gonna be chaos wrapped in neon lights and broken glass, a funhouse where the fun’s gonna end with somebody’s career in shambles! I still don’t know who LJ and Ally pissed off to get booked into this match but I know they’re capable of handling those two clowns!”

“And let’s not forget the drama that had all of Twitter melting down. Namely Seleana Zdunich and Crystal Caldwell. They were supposed to roll around in a mud pit, tear each other apart in the messiest catfight this side of reality TV. But some people not even in SCW started pitching a fit and the match got changed into a Ball n Chain match? This isn’t the first time Crystal has betrayed Sel and I’d hate to be the Woman of 1,000 Names when Seleana gets hold of her!”

“But all of that? That’s just the appetizer. Because after the blood, after the broken bones, after the wreckage is swept off the stage, there’s still the main course. There’s still me, the World Heavyweight Champion standing across the ring from my challenger, Aiden Reynolds.”

There was a pause as Carter exhaled slowly and adjusted his sunglasses.

“Let me tell you something about Aiden Reynolds. He’s what my trainers at the GO Gym would call old school appropriation. Not because he’s been around twenty years or because he’s slow, washed up, or boring. Quite the opposite! The man is seen as ‘old school’ because he’s not what you would consider flashy. Most wrestlers come out in flash and pomp to try and force all eyes to turn to them but Aiden?”

Carter shook his head.

“The flashiest thing about him is the leather jacket he wears and the ink he’s got on his skin. Other than that? He walks out to the ring in trunks and boots. No pyro. No smoke. No sequins. No grandstanding. Just a man who laces his boots, steps through those ropes, and does the damn thing that he was born to do. And you know what? I’m starting to suspect that’s all by design.”

“Because if you don’t purposely draw attention to yourself, people don’t notice you. If they don’t notice you, they overlook you. And when they overlook you, they make the exact same mistake that half the locker room had made with me. Because, let’s face it! I’m the complete opposite. I’m flashy as hell. Bleached hair. Rainbow briefs. Flamboyant fashion. A walking, talking MAGA homophobe’s worst nightmare! And because of that? A lot of guys look at me and don’t take me seriously.”

“Big mistake. And I’m not about to make that same mistake with Aiden. Because here’s the truth. I was there when Aiden made his SCW debut. January 2024. First match against Justin Smith. Justin beat him from pillar to post, made him bleed and Aiden still walked out the winner!”

“I watched him take on names like Ben Jordan, Alexander Raven, and Bill Barnhart in a Blood Bath Brawl! And even though Ben got his hand raised that night, Aiden proved something important. He’s not afraid to bleed.”

“I watched him give it his all in the Blast From the Past. I watched him fight with my brother-in-law, LJ. I was there when he beat Eddie Lyons, a man I have immense respect for, to walk away as the Roulette Champion! And yeah, Alexander Raven cut that short thanks to Victoria Lyon’s machinations, but did Aiden whine? Did he walk out in protest? Hell no! He bounced back, won the title again, and proved himself all over again for any doubters he might have had!”

“Two Roulette title reigns is no joke. That’s the division where you never know what the hell you’re stepping into, where adaptability is survival! Aiden showed he could think on his feet and thrive in chaos. That’s the kind of challenger I want! That’s the kind of man worthy of a World Championship shot!”

“And his time came six weeks ago at Summer XXXTreme XIII. The first-ever Overboard Battle Royal. Six men entered, one walked out with the golden ticket.”

“Now, full disclosure? I was pulling for my husband Miles. I would’ve loved to defend this championship against him. He’s a future World Champion, no doubt. Or Eddie Lyons, because the man deserves it. But who won? Aiden Reynolds. And you know what? I wasn’t disappointed. I was thrilled!”

“Because I knew the moment he dumped Miles over that top railing, it was only a matter of time before we crossed paths. And I know damn well what Aiden brings to the table! I’ve seen it! Win or lose, he always drags his opponents to the brink! And I am not expecting to be any exception.”

“You want another reason why I’m not overlooking him? Let’s talk about the last guy I defended against. J2H. Hall of Famer. Multi-time World Champion. One of the greatest to ever step foot in this business. Ring a bell?”

“J2H said that I was beneath him. That he couldn’t take me seriously because of who I am and how I portrayed myself. That SCW needed somebody better. That I didn’t deserve this championship or earn it.”

“And look at what happened! He said all that and I left him flat on his back, staring up at the lights, wondering what the hell just happened!”

“So yeah, I get the mental gymnastics. I’ve been where Aiden is, underestimated and often overlooked. But I’m not gonna make the same mistake with Aiden that J2H made with me. I know Aiden Reynolds is dangerous. I know he’s earned this shot. And I know he’s gonna bring me the fight of my life.”

Carter’s tone shifted, quieter but firmer.

“I’m proud of who I am, Aiden. I’ve never hidden it. Being LGBTQ wasn’t easy growing up. It’s why I grew up in a broken home. It’s why my Dad left. It’s why I got into fights in high school. My mom and grandma wanted me to go to college, get a job, live a safe and quiet life. Anything but wrestling. To this day they see this business as barbaric, like the Romans feeding Christians to the lions in the Coliseum.”

“But guess what? This ‘barbaric world’ gave me everything. It gave me a family. It gave me purpose. It gave me this championship. And it taught me to never, ever back down from a fight!”

Carter’s voice lowered, the bravado giving way to something more personal.

“Outside of the ring, I’ve lived through the ultimate nightmare. I was the victim of domestic abuse. The man who was supposed to love me, who was supposed to protect me, who was supposed to be my safe place turned me into nothing more than another statistic. I can still remember the nights where I thought it would never end, where I wondered if this was going to be the rest of my life. I was bruised. I was broken. I was lost in a hole so deep that I wasn’t sure I’d ever climb out of it!”

“But I didn’t quit. I couldn’t. Because I had people in my corner who refused to let me fall all the way. I had a family. I had friends. And most importantly, I had the man who would soon become everything I never thought I deserved. My husband. My heart. He reminded me every single day that I was worth more than the pain and more than the fear that I had been dragged into. And as twisted as it sounds, I’m almost glad for everything my ex put me through. Because without that, I might never have found the strength to become the man I am today. I might never have found Miles. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Carter paused, eyes narrowing with a bittersweet weight.

“And if that wasn’t enough, I faced the kind of loss that no championship, no victory, no cheering crowd could ever heal. I finally reconciled with my father after more than a decade apart. Ten years of silence, anger and distance. We finally found our way back to each other and just weeks later, I lost him. Renal failure took him from me before we even had the chance to rebuild the years we lost. That pain, that grief, it could have destroyed me. It could have been the thing that broke me forever. But still, I didn’t give up. Because I knew deep in my soul that my Dad would never have wanted that. He wouldn’t have wanted his son to quit on life or to quit on himself! He would have wanted me to keep going, to keep fighting, to live a life that honored him! So I did, and I do.”

“And that right there is the reason why I’m walking out of Violent Conduct X still your World Heavyweight Champion. Because simply put?”

“I don’t quit.”

Carter glanced back to the water. Kevin suddenly leapt onto Miles’ shoulders, toppling the Englishman into the waters of the Atlantic. They came up, gasping and laughing like maniacs. Carter’s smile softened and he slowly removed his shades and stood up. He tossed his sunglasses aside, bolted down the sand, and dove into the waves to join Miles and Kevin. The camera lingered on the three of them splashing and laughing, all else all but forgotten.

Amù Monte Carlo was Monaco’s refined tribute to Italian coastal cuisine. A gem amongst gems that drew the locals of Monaco just as easily as it did those that were visiting the small Riviera nation from afar. Tucked along the waterfront of Larvotto Beach, Amù possessed whitewashed stone walls, vibrant ceramic tiles imported from Amalfi, and lemon trees in terra-cotta pots along the open-air dining space. The sea breeze carried hints of salt, basil, and woodsmoke from the kitchen’s handmade pizza oven.

The restaurant’s name itself, derived from the Neapolitan expression for love, was more than a themed place to dine. It was the very mood and ambience brought to life. Inside, the very atmosphere hummed with romance and elegance. The tables were adorned with hand-painted plates and Mediterranean flowers atop the crystal blue linens. The menu was coastal Italian done with precision and passion. Handmade pastas with local seafood, fried calamari, and classic desserts such as roasted pineapple or tiramisu were some of the much desired fare offered. Not to mention a wine list that made the palates of many an enthusiast heavy with desire.

In short, it was an experience to be treasured and it left Carter himself wondering just how far in advance his husband had planned this little extravagance in his favor. And knowing Miles, it was in Carter’s favor. Miles was the sort who would have been perfectly satisfied dining on fish n chips from a street vendor and called it a day. And to be perfectly truthful, so would Carter himself. Carter adored things like that, but Miles also loved spoiling his husband just a wee bit so who was he to argue?

As the taxi arrived discreetly at the entrance, there were but a few curious paparazzi who caught a glimpse of the couple. Carter looked flawless in a light rose colored silk suit while Miles himself was a breath-taking sight, sporting a tailored slate-blue jacket and open-collar shirt. And by breath taking, it was obvious he had stolen his husband’s breath away from the very offset. Carter thought the look overall was a marvel but if you were to ask Miles, it was the tight slacks that stole Carter’s breath.

The two-time SCW Couple of the Year arrived just as the sky was painted with an array of deep color combinations, among them purples, roses, oranges and yellows painted and swirled together as twilight took prominence in the sky and the sun succumbed to the sea.

A hostess greeted them almost instantly. “Buonasera, Signori. Welcome to Amù.” She said, her smile warm and inviting. At first, Miles had wanted to respond in French, knowing that it was the official language in Monaco albeit not the primary. Italian and English were also spoken largely by locals. After a bit of a disaster with a street vendor when Miles had mixed up his French verbs, he had opted to toss the French lessons aside (for now) and just go with the flow.

“Party for Miles McKinney-Kasey?” Miles said, using his legally married name rather than just his own given surname that he retained for his wrestling career.

“Ah, yes.” The hostess smiled as she looked up from her docket between the two. “Please, follow me.”

They were escorted past diners who couldn’t help but glance up at the passing couple. Not because of their respective fame, but because of their presence. Miles walked with relaxed confidence, always aware of where Carter was beside him. And Carter? One could tell just by his posture and smile that he was thrilled to be here and with his arm in Miles’s own, the love and adoration he had for the man at his side.

The restaurant opened into a breezy patio overlooking the Mediterranean on wicker furniture, where their reserved table was nestled in a quiet corner flanked by olive trees and soft, flickering lanterns. The view was all moonlight on water and Miles had a rather difficult time drawing his husband’s attention away from it.

As they took their seats, their server presented them with a bottle of lightly chilled Brunello di Montalcinoé and a personalized amuse-bouche, a delicate, golden-brown fritto misto on a miniature lemon leaf. The small card at the center of the table read “Welcome to Monaco, Carter and Miles ~ with love, Amù.” This was not a recognition of their ‘celebrity status’ but a genuine welcome to all who visited their establishment.

The mood that surrounded them and everyone else was an effortless luxury. This wasn’t the place to make a scene. Carter loved this place. He loved Miles. But something in the air tonight wasn’t right. The two had placed their orders; Carter wanting the Linguine alle vongole and Miles the grilled Simmental beef filet. That left for a casual conversation and munching from the antipasto platter brought to them, while gazing at the wondrous beauty of the Mediterranean that surrounded them.

“Alright. What’s going on?” Carter finally broke the temporary silence between the two of them. There was never a loss for words between Miles and Carter from the very first moment that they had met, but ever since they had arrived in Monaco, it felt as if something had been gnawing at his husband’s mind and Carter was determined to get to the heart of the matter - whatever it was.

Miles smiled faintly. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

“You’re vibrating like a jackhammer.” Carter answered. “And you haven’t let go of your phone since we left the flat.”

Miles finally set the phone down beside his water glass and leaned back. “It’s about Kevin,” Miles finally said.

Carter straightened up in his seat and asked, “Is he okay?”

“He’s holding on.” There was a brief pause before Miles found his words to continue. “Stronger. His therapist says he’s making progress. Slowly, but it’s there.”

“Good.” Carter reached for his glass of wine, not sipping yet. “I’ve been thinking about him. After what you told me happened when LJ visited him, I couldn’t stop. It’s also why I haven’t. I didn’t want to overwhelm the kid.”

Miles nodded and a silence fell between them, filled with the hum of distant conversation and the clink of cutlery. Amù was not a loud place. The ambiance gave people space to be quiet and sometimes that felt more dangerous than noise.

Carter tilted his head. He knew there was more to MIles’s mood and if he had to dig deep to get Miles to open up, then he would. “This isn’t about his recovery, is it?”

“No. It’s not.” Miles responded before quickly amending, “Well, not just that.”

Carter raised his eyebrows, waiting and silently [prodding Miles to keep going. Miles inhaled, chest expanding. “I told him he could move in with us. After he’s discharged.”

Carter blinked. “…You what?”

“I told Kevin that … if he wants … he can live with us.” MIles waited, then added. “That we’d be his guardians. Permanently.”

Miles then sat back and waited, the food that had just been delivered to their table all but forgotten as Carter stared at him. The pause stretched long. The discomfort was worse than an itch that you were unable to reach.

The breeze stirred the edge of the linen tablecloth. Down below, waves lapped quietly at the base of the marina.

Carter’s voice came quiet. “And you didn’t think this was something that we should have talked about first?”

“We are talking about it.” Was Miles’s only answer before Carter interrupted, “Yeah, after the fact!”

Carter quickly checked himself and his tone, knowing this was not the place for any sort of emotional outburst. Like any married couple, Carter and Miles have had disagreements. Even a handful of arguments. It was normal. But not a full blown fight. And never in public.

Carter went on to say, “Miles, I know how big of a heart you have. I know you only want what’s best for everyone. But you effectively backed me into a corner that I’d be unable to get out of without looking like a Disney villain! What if I didn’t want someone else moving in? What if I wasn’t ready to be someone’s guardian? This isn’t a decision that you can make unilaterally and then discuss with your husband after!”

Miles looked stricken and said, “I meant to. I did but … he needed something. A promise. Some kind of future. His parents are out of the picture. Permanently. He’s alone. I couldn’t just let him go back into the system.”

Carter’s fingers curled around the stem of his glass. “And I understand that. I do. But you’re not alone, Miles. We’re a team.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Carter asked, not angry but hurt. “Because right now, it kind of feels like you made a life-changing decision for both of us and you’re asking for acknowledgement afterward.”

Miles looked down, ashamed. “It wasn’t meant to be that. It wasn’t even meant to be a decision. It was a promise that, if he had nowhere else he’d have us. It didn’t feel like a decision. It felt like the bare minimum.”

Carter didn’t respond right away. He looked out toward the horizon, eyes slightly unfocused, breath shallow like he was keeping something in. Finally, he said, “I care about Kevin. You know I do. I sat by him when you brought him to the condo that night. I saw the way he flinched when I got too close.”

Miles nodded. “That’s why I knew you’d say yes.”

“But that’s not the point, is it?” Carter responded. “This isn’t about me saying yes. It’s about you not asking me at all.”

Miles was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly nodded, “You’re right.”

They sat in that silence a while, letting the edges of it settle.

When the waiter returned to pour their wine, both men waited until he was gone before Carter spoke again.

“I know what kind of man you are, Miles. You don’t walk away from someone in pain. I fell in love with that man. But you’re not just a rescuer anymore. You’re my husband. And that means when you decide to bring a child into our life, you do it with me.”

Miles looked him in the eye and said, “I was worried. Of making it real. Because once I do, it’s not just a promise to Kevin. It’s a responsibility to both of you.”

Carter blinked, the intensity softening just slightly. Miles continued with his line of reasoning, “He’s so close to giving up. And when I told him we could be his family, I saw something come back to life in his eyes. Just a spark. But it was real. The entire time, he was so damn quiet. But he asked ‘What happens when this place runs out of room for me?’ That’s when I told him that he would come stay with us. I told him that we’d make room for him.”

Carter looked at him with that expression he reserved for moments when words failed him. Half proud, half broken, all heart. He set down his glass, folded both hands on the table, and leaned in.

“So how do we go about this?”

Miles blinked, as if his ears were playing tricks on him. “You’re okay with this?” He asked.

“I always was.” Carter smiled, again lifting his glass of wine. “I just wanted to clear up the issues  between us.”

Miles straightened. “I want to apply for guardianship once Kevin’s medically cleared. That might take a few more months. I don’t know how his Mom or Dad will respond.”

“I still have O’Malley’s brother as an attorney.” Carter pointed out. “He might be able to speed things along.”

Miles nodded. “And you…” Miles stood from his seat, walked around the table, and dropped to a crouch beside Carter’s chair. They were face to face now, eye to eye. Carter didn’t flinch. He simply met his husband’s unwavering eyes.

“You,” Miles said, “are the reason I can do this. You’re the one who reminds me to rest. Who holds me together when I lose perspective. You’re going to be his family too.”

Carter stared further into his eyes before he chuckled softly, closing them. Miles tried to find what had caught his husband’s attention in an amusing way but shook his head, “What is it?”

“I was just thinking.” Carter answered, his shoulders shaking lightly. “How our families are going to react to the news that we have a kid. I mean, Mom always wanted to be a Grandma but I think we skipped a few steps when her first grandchild would be a sixteen year old teenager.”

Miles joined Carter in the light hearted moment before he returned to his seat. Only then did Carter muse aloud, “I admit that I always wondered what it would be like to have a family,” Carter said suddenly. “I didn’t know it would happen like this. I mean, I’m only 26. I guess life never happens the way you plan it.”

Miles smirked. “Yeah. I didn’t plan to fall in love with a sarcastic, judgmental gay man who has a coffee addiction and color codes his closet.”

“That’s on you.” Carter shot back.

And in the golden hush of a Monaco evening, under a sky painted with sea and stars, two men sat together at a table for two. With a third seat soon to be filled.

---

There was something surreal about a place like this. The air smelled like money and secrets. One could almost hear the ghostly wisps of royalty echoing through the halls, playing high-stakes games with more on the line than mere money. Carter stepped carefully between tables, taking it all in. There were the glittering dresses, the tension in the eyes of men who bet empires on a turn of the wheel. Yet he wasn't here to gamble. Not really. But there was a quiet comfort in watching people put it all on the line, chasing something they would swear upon their lives that they deserved.

He stopped at the edge of a roulette table, watching the ball spin, and for a moment, he saw it. Every decision he’d made, every risk he'd taken. His title weighed heavy on his shoulders, metaphorically speaking. Not from gold but from meaning. Privately he wonders how Eddie Lyons would carry it. How much it would cost him. He wondered how far a man would go when he’s got a baby girl waiting at home and a legacy still just out of reach.

“Eddie Lyons. The ‘Unbreakable One’ First things first, let me get this out of the way before we get to the heart of the matter. Congratulations. Congratulations on becoming a father. I saw the photo that you posted on social media. She’s darling. I also saw you make note of living off of Red Bull so let me give you a word of advice. Don’t make the mistake of using Red Bull instead of water to make your morning coffee. You’ll get halfway to the arena before you realize that you forgot your car. But I’m getting ahead of myself here…”

“I can only imagine you with that little girl in your arms, smiling like the whole world just got brighter. And then having to hand her over so you could travel halfway across the world to here. To Monaco. And I have to admit that I feel bad for you, taking you away from your daughter so soon.”

“You deserve that kind of joy in your life. You deserve mornings with baby fingers wrapped around your own. You deserve the sleepless nights and soft lullabies that are going to come with that little one. You deserve to experience those first steps and her first words, but those are some time away from now.”

“But here's the thing, Eddie. You're not there right now. You're not at home rocking her to sleep. You’re not feeding her or burping her and having her toss cookies on the back of your shirt. You're not changing diapers or laughing with your partner about how tiny those socks are. You’re here. Thousands of miles away and standing across the ring from me.”

“And I hate that.”

“I hate this match, this moment, this company… I hate that it had to pull you away from that little girl so soon. Because if anyone deserves time to breathe, to adjust, to just be a dad for a minute without worrying about what kind of fight he’s walking into next… It’s you.”

Carter sighed and turned and continued on with his journey through the casino.

“Unfortunately, wrestling doesn’t wait for anyone. But this match that you and I have against each other… It’s different. No stipulation. No feud. No championship on the line. Just two men about to go to war in that ring. You’d think without the title in play, it wouldn’t matter so much. You’d think this is one of those filler matches, right? A warm-up. A showcase. A polite little handshake-and-headlock affair that might cause the armchair experts online to call out ‘BO-RING!’”

“But it’s not. Because the man standing across from me is ‘Unbreakable’ Eddie Lyons. And tonight  that means just as much as a championship being at stake.”

“Before I ever held the World title, before I even set foot inside the Elimination Chamber … Before I was the man they called champion, I was just a guy on a journey. Second guessing my place in this sport. Wondering if I belonged. Trying not to drown in a locker room full of giants, legends, and lions.”

“And you?”

“You weren’t one of the voices who doubted me. You weren’t one of the ones laughing behind my back while paying lip service or saying I didn’t have it. You weren’t the one whispering ‘he’s not championship material’ or rolling your eyes when I cut my promos with glitter on my lashes.”

Carter arrived at one of the curtained off windows of the Casino. He drew the drapery aside so that he could look out into the night.

“You were the one who looked me in the eye and said ‘Run with it.’”

“Three words. That’s all. Three words that meant I see you. I respect you. I believe in you. That was all the encouragement I ever needed from someone that wasn’t my husband. And so I did. I ran with it. Straight through the Chamber. Straight into that title match against Alex Jones. And when I finally heard the bell ring and that belt was in my hands, you were one of the first I thought of.”

“Because you get it. You know what it’s like to fight uphill. You’ve been chasing this very same dream just as long as I have. And for a long time, we weren’t that different. Hungry. Desperate. Trying not to break under the weight of what we knew we could be.”

He shrugged.

“I just happened to catch the break first. But now, here we are. No blood feud. No betrayal between us. But there is history. And history, no matter how old, no matter how buried, has a way of creeping back into the present.”

“I haven’t forgotten about Vincent. I haven’t forgotten the chair shot that rang through my skull like a gunshot. I haven’t forgotten the fog, the doctors, the sleepless nights wondering if I’d ever feel right again. I haven’t forgotten having to pretend everything was okay while I couldn’t even remember what city I was in. And I damn sure haven’t forgotten the doubt that started to creep in!”

“But let me be clear about something that I hope you take to heart. You are not your cousin. You are not responsible for that chair shot. And I’m not walking into this match with vengeance on my mind.”

“I’m walking into that ring with a clarity I’ve never known before. You see, I know who you are, Eddie Lyons. Not just in the ring but outside of it. I’ve seen the way you carry yourself in this company. The respect you give to the business, to the fans, to your peers. I’ve seen you get back up every single time the world told you to stay down. I’ve seen you swallow disappointment, shake hands, lace up your boots, and fight like hell the next night. I’ve seen what this means to you.”

“But most importantly? I’ve seen you become a father. I’ll be real with you. That one hit different. Because this business? It takes everything. Your time. Your health. Your sanity. And sometimes, it even tries to take the people you love. But you’re still here. You’re still pushing! And now, you’re not just fighting for yourself anymore. You’re fighting for her. And I respect the hell out of that!”

“But this is the part where I need you to listen closely because this is where the mood shifts between you and I. You’re standing across from the SCW World Heavyweight Champion. Not because I politicked my way here. Not because someone handed me a golden opportunity. Not because of a fluke win or a lucky night!”

“I earned this! I survived everything that this company could throw at me! I withstood the mind games, the backstabs, the cheap shots. I bled for this title. I fought like a rabid dog with a broken heart and something to prove!  So if you're walking into this match thinking I'm gonna take it easy on you because there's no title on the line?”

Carter shook his head, his face an uncharacteristic mask of stone.

“You don’t know me like I thought you did. Because this isn’t just a match. This is a message from me to you. From me to the locker room. To anyone who thinks I’ve gone soft now that I’ve lost a match to Alex but gotten past J2H! I want everyone out there to understand that I’m not keeping the throne warm…”

“I am the throne.”

“And you, Eddie? I’m not underestimating you. I know what you bring. I’ve watched you from the moment you signed with this company. You’re a technician. You’ve got a lion’s heart and a hunter’s instinct! You’ve been the runner-up more times than anyone should have to be but you never let it make you bitter. You just let it make you better. And that…”

He shook his finger at nothing and nobody in particular.

“That makes you dangerous. That makes you worthy. Because I know what happens when a man like you gets even a sliver of momentum. I’ve watched you push champions to their limit. I’ve seen you knock out heavy hitters twice your size. I’ve seen you dangle at the edge of greatness and if I slip for even a second? You’ll take it.”

“But there is no chance in hell that I’m going to let you catch me slipping. You want to make a statement? I get it. You want to beat the champion and prove that your time is next? I respect that. But to beat me? You’re gonna have to dig deeper than you ever have before. You’re gonna have to be more than ‘Unbreakable’, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna have to be undeniable.”

“Because I’m not wrestling as the same Carter whose head was filled with hopes and dreams. I’m wrestling as the Carter who finally made it. And every match I step into is just another brick in the foundation of what I’m building around me.”

“You know, they talk about dream matches all the time in this business. Match-ups that live on in the minds of fans. And for me? This is one of them. Just two men. No shortcuts. No baggage. Just skill and respect. And you? You’re the kind of opponent that makes me better about myself. You’re the kind of man that reminds me of why I do this.”

Carter then turns away from the window, allowing the drape to fall back into place and he looks into the camera.

“So, when the bell rings? I want you to know that I’m not just fighting you. I’m fighting the shadow of every runner-up speech you’ve ever had to give. I’m fighting the ghost of that chair shot your cousin gave me. I’m fighting the weight of this championship, and all the voices saying I’m not enough to carry it. And I’m fighting with everything I’ve got. Not to keep you down…”

He again shook his head.

“But to meet you there. Because the truth is I want you to be great. I want you to feel what I felt holding this title. I want your daughter to grow up knowing her father wasn’t just ‘almost.’ Both of you deserve that.”

“But it’s not going to happen at my expense. Not while this fire’s still burning in me. So bring your heart, your scars… Bring every ounce of fight you’ve got! And when it’s over, when we’ve pushed each other to the brink of exhaustion, I’ll be proud to shake your hand! Because that’s what professionals do. That’s what champions do.”

“And maybe one day, Eddie… maybe one day soon… You’ll be on this side of the bench. With the World Heavyweight title in your possession. But not yet.”

He shook a finger.

“Not while I still hear that bell. Not while the name Helluva Bottom Carter is still recognized as the champion. Because I didn’t fight this hard to be anyone’s stepping stone! This is the standard. And if you want it? You better come for it like the lion that I know you are!”

He pushed himself up off and away from the wall.

“Because I’m ready and I don’t run.”

“I'm just saying that it's not natural.”

Carter visibly cringed at the words he had heard from random strangers ever since he had come out at the tender age of fourteen. Some of them were family and former friends. Most had been his school classmates although just as many, if not more, were surprisingly supportive.

But it was still vastly disappointing and hurtful when you would hear a stranger offering an opinion on not just the fact on whom you shared a bed with, but also how this supposedly affected the ability in how you performed your craft. Something that you had been doing relatively successfully for over six years, and only recently surpassed your own dreams by climbing to the upper echelon of the business.

But sure, let’s forget about all of that.

Carter had been content to spend a portion of the day alone while Miles busied himself at the gym, getting in one of his (in)famous workouts. Carter usually loved going to the gym as an open excuse to ogle his “hot husband” but found neither man got a lot accomplished during the session. Well, as far as actual working out goes. So this time Miles opted to go alone and he’d return to pick Carter up so the two of them could go shopping for a birthday present for their nephew in London. Riley’s parents had made them swear an oath not to go overboard like they had in their last visit to England, but despite crossing their hearts, they made no ‘real’ promises.

So here Carter remained at their home, watching a podcast he had been told about only moments ago by his best friend, Ariana Angelos. She had texted him to let him know that “Beyond the Squared Circle” - one of theory mutually favorite wrestling-related podcasts was going to be dedicating this episode to not just Carter, but also his reign atop the mountain of Sin City Wrestling. And even better? The host Ava Garner was to be joined by some “wrestling expert” by the name of Tobias Holloway. Whoever that was. Carter figured it to be some guy who never set foot in the actual business side of the sport, let alone an actual wrestling ring, but still somehow believed being a fan made him an expert on everything wrestling-related.

Ava always took her own craft seriously, treating each and every guest of her show with the utmost of respect, even when some of those old school boys treated her less so all because she possessed a uterus. Her studio was brightly lit from overhead stage lights and the set itself was two chairs in the center of a stage made up to resemble a wrestling ring on three sides. That was it. She felt no need for anything more glamorous because she was here not to impress anyone but to have fun and pay her respects to the men and women who put their bodies on the line, day in and day out, and all in the name of our bloodlust infused amusement.

"And welcome back to Beyond the Squared Circle!"

Ava Garner said with a perpetual smile on her face, a woman in her late twenties with olive tone skin. "Today my guest Tobias Holloway and I have been discussing something that has been making waves in recent weeks, and that is the fact that Helluva Bottom Carter has become the brand new World Heavyweight Champion of Sin City Wrestling, having defeated the legendary Alex Jones for the gold this past May in Paris, France.”

Tobias, a man who was pushing fifty if we are being generous, and possessed the countenance of a right-wing politician, sat in the chair next to her and looked every bit the part of his belonging there. For a man like this, it was not about the entertainment or the fun aspect of discussing different opinions on any topic. It was about control and convincing the world why he was right and everyone else who disagreed with him was not.

Tobias, or Mister Holloway as he preferred to be addressed as, cleared his throat and shook his head with a faux sense of dismay. He spoke up, all but interrupting his host to say, “We are, to put it mildly, in a regrettable era of the sport that we all love. Helluva Bottom Carter, World Champion.”

He shook his head in disgust, “It simply defies the natural order of things, on a business that was built on the backs of men. Real men who bled for the sport, only to have others enter their world and turn it into a complete mockery."

“Well I think you’re using the term ‘mockery’ a little loosely.” Ava countered, shaking her head. “And I have to say, that is not the first time that you so freely used the phrase ‘natural’ or ‘unnatural’ where Carter is concerned. I mean, are you implying that a wrestler's sexual orientation has any bearing on their ability to perform in the ring, or their worthiness of holding a championship?”

It looked like Tobias was about to speak over her or interrupt, but Ava literally did the same to him, talking over him as she pointed out, “Helluva Bottom Carter has consistently delivered incredible matches, displayed so much charisma, and clearly has the support of the fans."

Carter could not help but smile as he took a drink of the water he had infused with strawberries and kiwi. His and Miles’s “little girl” aka Ms. Thang hopped up onto the couch at his side, demanding tribute and he idly obliged, stretching an arm over to stroke her scalp lovingly as the close-eyed purring commenced. Carter felt grateful for people in the business like Ava who did not support sexual orientation per se, but more so anyone who wanted to make a living in this sport no matter who they shared their bed with. But he was also smart enough to know this exchange was far from over.

And the close-minded nature of Tobias was put on full display for the world to see as he finally got his chance to speak and said, “Talent is one thing, but the championship is about presenting an ideal. It's about aspirations, about what young boys see as the pinnacle of power and prestige. And yes, young boys are some of the top demographic targets for the business.”

“Ignoring of course the fact that the audience is heavily flavored with young girls as well, considering how female wrestlers are just as big in many areas - if not bigger.” Ava pointed out.

“Score.” Carter murmured as he took another drink, watching.

But it was as if Ava had not even spoken, given the way Tobias all but glossed over everything she had just said. Instead, he played the role of “peacemaker” by stating, “With all due respect to Mr. Carter’s personal life, his being the current champion, diminishes the title as well as its lineage. Now, I’m not denying Helluva Bottom Carter is talented in the ring!”

Carter all but rolled his eyes even though there was nobody present to see the fact.

Tobias continued, “It’s like you said. He’s got athleticism, charisma, and can cut a promo with the best of them. But let’s not pretend like this isn’t a calculated move to disrupt the traditional legacy of the World Heavyweight Championship.”

Ava’s face found the frown for the first time since this program started and she questioned, “How do you figure?”

To which Tobias, excuse me, Mister Holloway, gleefully answered, “Wrestling has always had its share of characters, but the champion has historically been a symbol of dominance and authenticity. This current title run? It feels like a publicity stunt. Carter’s overt flamboyance, his sexually charged persona? Especially given it’s ‘Pride Month…’ (And yes indeed, he did do the air quotes!) … It's not what the SCW World Heavyweight Championship was built on! You can call it progress all you like but the simple fact is that his title reign is woke and is diminishing the legacy of almost thirteen years and names like Gabriel Stevens, Austin James Mercer, Fenris and Michael Harris to name a few! Until Carter came along, there has not been a single homosexual World Heavyweight Champion…”

“Not true.” Ava interrupted, and the stricken expression on Tobias’s face would scream that he was unsure of which was the greater sin. Being interrupted or being told that he was wrong. Ava continued, “You mentioned names such as Fenris but Fenris was openly gay, and Kris Ryans himself - a two-time champion in his own right, was a member of the LGBTQ community. As a matter of fact, as I recall, Fenris and Kris Ryans had a brief personal relationship between the two of them.”

Tobias stared at her, at a temporary loss for words but he recovered quickly enough. He again cleared his throat and spoke up, “Be that as it may, Fenris is a perfect example. One would look at him and never know he was a member of that lifestyle. You look at him and see a rugged fighter. Kris Ryans too - to a degree! Neither of them flaunted who they were behind closed doors but men like Carter make their entire personae all about being gay!”

Ava sighed, “You see Carter winning the championship as some kind of joke or a publicity stunt but I see it as a reclamation of a spot that has long shut out performers like him or made jokes out of them. The crowd reactions are real. The merchandise sales are real. The impact he brings to the business is real!”

“But that’s exactly what I’m talking about, Ava!” Tobias countered. “The timing of Carter’s push was too convenient. Do you seriously not find it suspicious that Alex Jones, one of the most technically sound champions in SCW history, loses clean to someone like Carter? Come on.” He sat back, rolling his eyes. “That wasn’t a title change! It was a social experiment…!”

But whatever else was going to be said between the two was silenced as Carter quickly slammed the laptop shut. Carter fell back against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. After languishing in the SCW midcard territory and being unable to capitalize on numerous chances at the championship, to finally succeeding and having his success story reduced to nothing more than bigoted propaganda and claims of social experiments did more than turn his stomach!

It broke his heart. It shouldn’t, but it did. Carter had been dealing with people like Tobias Holloway most of his life, let alone his career. Many would not know this, but when Carter first entered the business, he was personally concerned about how he would be accepted in the locker rooms when he signed to both SCU as well as SCW. A fear that turned out to be unfounded because he had been supported from day one. Strongly so. Many of the men he shared a locker room with? Names like Austin James Mercer and Mac Babe among others. They had no problems sharing a dressing room with him. In fact, men like that were more prone to have a problem with anybody who complained about sharing a dressing room with Carter.

Still, it never felt good to know that someone did not accept you. Arrogant pricks like Tobias? They weren't worth the time or effort to care about them or their little feelings and opinions. Carter was willing to bet anything that this jerk off was a Trump supporter. And he wasn't about to let this asshole ruin his day.

If anything could pick up his mood…


… It was sitting back and watching Miles do squats.

Carter stepped into the shadows of the parking garage beneath the Turnberry Towers, the sound of his hard soled shoes against the concrete the only noise breaking the stillness, but it might as well have been a thunderstorm. The track lighting overhead cast ominous shadows over the rows of parked cars and for a moment, his old fears came back. Not just from the memories of the time he had been attacked in this very garage at night by a hired assailant, but also that deep rooted phobia he had always had about a break in and what would come of it. The hum of distant traffic was barely audible as Carter struggled past his irrational fears to reach his car, the lime green VW Beetle that he had inherited from his Grandfather. Miles had once questioned why he held onto such an old fashioned car, but once the connection between his Grandfather and the car was explained, Miles more than understood. He helped Carter take the utmost care of the memorial keepsake.

As he approached his car, keys in hand, something made him slow his steps. The air felt heavier all of a sudden. He glanced around but nothing seemed out of place. Rows of empty cars, a trash bin in the corner, a flickering light above the stairwell that really needed replacing. Still, his instincts whispered that something wasn’t right. He paused at the driver’s side door, hand hovering just above the handle, eyes scanning the shadows between pillars and parked cars.

A prickle was felt across the back of his neck. Carter turned abruptly, heart thudding now, scanning the rows behind him. Was that movement near the support beam? No. But feeling like a spotlight had settled on him refused to fade. His jaw tightened and he almost jumped when another car turned into the garage and headed his way. And only when Carter recognized it as being Miles’s very own blue Jeep Renegade

Carter watched with a subdued sense of relief as the car pulled around the rows and came to a crawl until it finally stopped parallel to where he was standing. The driver’s side window rolled down and Miles shifted his shades down over the bridge of his nose and said, “`Ey you pretty thing, you looking for a good time?”

Carter snorted back a laugh, all past trepidation all but forgotten in favor of Miles attempting to pick his husband up. And by ‘attempted,’ we of course mean Carter would have given it up for him had Miles simply said, “Yo bitch, backseat!” But he was far too much of a gentleman.

“What are you doing back from the gym so soon?” Carter asked, leaning against his car. “You’re usually there for another hour at least.”

“Eh, it’s just not the same when I don’t have your eyes glued to my arse.” Miles quipped, then with a lilt of the head, beckoned his husband to the passenger side. “C’mon an’ get in. Let’s grab dinner and then make my sister regret limiting what we can send Riley for his birthday.”


Carter just smirked gratefully as he walked around the now open passenger door and hopped it. And mere moments later, the Jeep Renegade vanished from the garage and into the famed “City of Sin.”

And it was inside of the Turnberry Towers security office when a gross sense of bad timing, and the guard having taken a quick break from the monitors, did not see the figure step back from around the pillar to watch as the vehicle pulled away.

---

“Living the dream.”

“That is the saying, isn’t it? When you either fulfill a life’s goal or you’re at least trying to give the illusion that everything in life is alright and couldn’t be better. But here’s the thing. I do happen to be living the dream. Not just now but I have for some time. Too many people these days are just skating by in life, barely making a living in jobs that they can’t honestly say that they love, let alone are loyal too. Hell, you even see people that have incredibly successful careers that pays well and gives them a life that would be the envy of many, but they can’t always say that they themselves are happy because they can’t say they love what they do. Doctors, lawyers, politicians… many of them begin these careers out of family desires and obligations rather than doing what they really want and later on in life, they look back with regret in their hearts and a single, painful question on their mind;”

“What if?”

“Me? I can honestly say that I am one of the lucky few. I might not have had a lot of family support in my chosen career, but I had plenty in the aspect that I was living a dream that I’ve had since I was a kid. To step inside of the ring. To travel the world. To meet fans of all ages who ask to have their picture taken with me? I’ll be honest, I get just as much a charge out of posing with people at shows or on the streets now as I did when I first got involved in wrestling. It’s these little things that bring me such joy and get me past the threshold of the injuries and frustrations. And I’ve had my fair share of those. But all of that pales by comparison when I can look at myself in the mirror and finally realize that I am the best.”

Carter lifts the SCW World Championship belt into the cradle of his arms against his upper body as if it were a small child.

“When all is said and done, that is what this particular accomplishment is all about, isn’t it? To win the top championship, to beat the best offered to you - that makes you the best.”

Carter paused and held up a hand.

“In most cases, at least. I was taught from the earliest stages of my training that a champion is only as good as the challengers that he or she faces, and that’s why when I first won this, the first thing I told everyone. Fans and the SCW bosses - that I wanted to make an example. I wanted to be a defending champion. And I’d like to think for the most part that I’ve fulfilled my side of that particular bargain without slowing down. I know Guy thought he was being funny when he booked me against Artie but he wasn’t. Neither Artie nor I treated our match like it was going to be anything less than a championship match to bring the house down. And we did just that – right up until the part where J2H and Kevin Carter just had to go and get involved. But I won. Artie gave one hell of a performance and an even better fight, but I am still the champion. Which brings me to the next step on my path toward J2H, and that’s the man that I beat for the championship in Paris.”

“Alex Jones.”

“I’ll be open and honest with everyone that’s watching right now. This match with Alex Jones? It should be for the championship. No questions or doubts about that. I know a lot of people aren’t big on impromptu title matches or big matches like this ahead of even bigger matches like what I’ve got at Summer XXXTreme, but you can not deny the fact that Alex Jones is in line for a championship match. He’s the freaking former champion for God’s sake! He hasn’t had a rematch yet and if he doesn’t deserve the opportunity to take this title and face J2H then tell me; who the hell does!?”

“How can anyone out there look at the history between us? The fights. The threats. I mean, literally EVERYTHING … and then book a non-title match between us like it’s nothing more than just some exhibition? Granted, it’s right where it belongs as the Main Event of the show but you know what would make it even better? If the championship was at stake!”

Carter nods toward the camera, and thus toward whomever might be watching.

“So Alex, if you’re watching and I suspect that you are, despite everything that happened between us in the past, I can say with sincerity that I am sorry for this happening. You not being given a rematch is disrespectful to the weight of what you and I’ve been through, and frankly, it’s a disservice to the SCW Universe who knows exactly how high the stakes should be! I wanted this to be the defining moment. You and I each hold one win over the other and this could have been our big time, the rubber match to decide it all. And technically it still can be but I just felt like it could be … more.”

“I wanted the lights brighter and the pressure more intense. Because if Alex really thinks he’s ready to climb back to the top, if I want to send a message to J2H, then we should have been allowed to prove it with everything at stake. Let him walk that same path I did and try to take what matters most. Instead, we’ve got the inevitable repeat of a fight with no crown to claim, and to me that just feels hollow. I want the title on the line, not to protect it, but because I believe in proving myself every time I step in that ring. Just like every single champion should do! That’s what a champion does. And if Alex wants a shot at redemption, I say put some damn gold on the table and let’s make it mean something!”

“And you and I are fully capable of doing just that. We brought the house down at Into the Void IX, we can do so again and make Climax Control seem like the Supercard to end all Supercards! Just … do me one favor.”

“I’m getting a little sick and tired of people poking their nose in my business. Either to cost me the championship or to give themselves a leg up on the inevitable. Your little friend Aaron Asphyxia tried to get involved and would have cost me were it not for my own bestie, Ariana. Ad Ari - and other ladies backstage - both told me that they were ready to have my back if Aaron tried to get involved again. And you saw that J2H and Kevin almost cost me everything just two weeks ago. I’m just done with people interfering and tarnishing everything that could be!”

“So please … leave Aaron in the back. Let’s just make things you and me - man to man. That way when you lose a second time around, you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”

The residency of Brianna and Garrett Kasey in which they shared with Brianna and Miles’s mom, Mora, was one of relatively quiet calm and familiarity - at least on this day. The house was empty, save for Miles himself and his niece and nephew. Morrigan was sound asleep in the playpen in the corner of the living room, surrounded by an army of stuffed toys, all standing guard over their little charge. Riley busied himself playing with an impressive array of toys that Carter and Miles had gifted him, much to Brianna and Garrett’s chagrin.

Miles and Carter had taken their duties as the “fun uncles” seriously when they had taken their nephew and niece on a little outing to give their parents a little time to themselves. Of course, had Mom and Dad known what was to come, they might have put a little more thought into the Uncles having free reign for that morning. Because Carter and Miles took the children to the nearest toy store - which just so happened to be Hamleys. This store was, in Carter’s own words, what Toys R Us had strived to be. With a massive selection, it was the prime spot for the Uncles to commence spoiling.

Being less than five months old, the baby just watched from Carter’s arms as they offered one soft plush after another. That was until Miles dangled an Eeyore plush in front of her and her little hands snatched onto it like it was a life preserver. And the moment Eeyore’s nose went in her mouth, the decision was made. Carter then insisted that she couldn’t have just Eeyore without one of each of his ‘friends’ from the Hundred Acre Woods, so plushies of Whinnie the Pooh, Piglet and the rest of the gang were added to her tally.

Riley had struck it rich with his Uncles spoiling him as well, what with toys like the Hot Wheels Shark Car Wash and others. But it was the Sneaky, Snacky Squirrel Game that had both the three year old and his Uncle engrossed. That was until Miles heard the unlocking of the front door and turned his head to see his twin sister entering her home.

“You’re home early.” Miles observed, his sister working as an Esthetician. Brianna paused, taking in the sweet scene and privately felt that her children didn’t get to see enough of her brother - or his husband. Brianna dropped her keys in the ceramic seashell on the accent table beside the front door and she said casually, “I had a light schedule today.”

She then paused and looked around, then found herself asking, “Where’s Carter and Mum?”

Miles, his attention focused solely on the tweezers in the shape of a squirrel, trying to pick up a pebble in the game, answered, “Mum took Carter to her store to explore a bit.” Miles glanced up and added, “I’m hoping she can get him to open up a little.”

To which his sister nodded, having learned from Miles earlier in the week Carter was going through some self doubt issues and needed an impartial ear. It was one of the main reasons they were here - not that Carter knew that. Brianna then asked, “Didn’t you say Carter loved to read?”

Miles nodded, “Mm. He usually has his nose buried in a book in his down time.”

“And he’s something of a shop-o-holic?” She added, her eyebrows raised.

Miles laughed, “Carter got a wedding invite from two different Amazon delivery drivers!”

Brianna then said, her tone taking on a trace of amusement at her brother’s expense, “So you sent him to Mum’s bookstore, a place he might feel obligated to support?”

Miles glanced up, staring at Brianna and she could tell the moment the reality struck him as his eyes went wide and he pursed his lips, “Ooo! I didn’t think of that!”

Brianna sighed, walking past him and she patted him on the shoulder, “Carter’s lucky you’re cute.”


On a side street in London’s Bloomsbury district, there was a small shopping district that favored the tastes of more independent shops and cafes that tended to draw the attention of the tourists and passers by. But there was something special about these smaller shops, particularly the book store that stood nestled between a cafe and a flower shop. It radiated a quaint and timeless charm, its exterior a deep red brick with black awnings over the windows which displayed a variety of employee recommended reads. Golden fairy lights lined the underside of the awning that protected the small exterior nook with two round tables for patrons to sit and enjoy a coffee and a read in the fresh air. And above the door - the name of this locally owned business - “A Likely Story”. This store was the dream realized by the matriarch of the Kasey clan, the very woman who pulled her Nissan Leaf into the reserved parking spot.

Mora stepped out of the driver’s side, followed by her son-in-law, Carter. The young man never grew tired of visiting London, and to discover his mother-in-law was the proprietor of her very own bookstore absolutely enthralled him. She watched with no small amount of pride as Carter’s eyes darted everywhere, taking it all in. The window displays. The chalkboard on the pavement that announced local poetry nights and book club meetings. Even the ivy that perfectly framed the front door held a special charm to it. Carter turned to Mora who had joined him at his side and he asked, “This is yours?”

To which she nodded with a smile as she took his arm as a lady does and they walked toward the entrance. Carter took the initiative to open the door for her and he followed her inside and whatever he had expected to find inside failed by comparison.

Well-loved novels from local authors took prominence in this store’s displays; names such as Richard Osman and Colleen Hoover. Obscure titles and handpicked staff favorites along with the usual popular and classics titles by more well known authors filled out the displays. Soft lighting cast a golden glow over reading nooks with comfortable chairs, some filled by the store’s patrons. Mora followed Carter as he found himself exploring, savoring at first that scent of paper that any avid reader could recognize. Then his nostrils took in a new scent as he turned a corner to find a small coffee counter, all the better to draw in readers who enjoyed a coffee while reading something new. Behind the counter, a chalkboard menu listed local drinks and homemade pastries.

“I should have known you would have zeroed in on the coffee.” Mora half joked, well aware of Carter’s coffee addiction. He turned to respond when the pair were interrupted by a cheery voice, “I didn’t know you were coming in today!”

Carter turned to find an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties and to be perfectly honest, resembled Diane Wiest from the film “Practical Magic”. She approached the pair with a charming grace and the type of friendly familiarity that made you instinctively just adore her.

Mora answered her, “I wasn’t planning to, but I wanted to show my son-in-law around.” And that was all the woman had to hear for a gasp, but not one of shock but a delighted surprise.

“Is this Miles’s husband?” She gushed, her older eyes sparkling almost with the delight of a girl a third her age.

“It is.” Mora answered. “Carter? This is my dearest friend, Cora Adkins. She manages the store. Cora, this is Carter…”

Carter took a step forward to offer Cora his hand but found himself suddenly enveloped in a big hug, the woman reacting as if he was some long lost relation, exclaiming, “Oh it’s so nice to meet you!” While Carter himself reacted with surprise, “Oh! You’re a hugger! That’s alright. I am too.”

Carter finally managed to separate himself from the syrupy sweet friend of Mora’s. She then looked over his shoulder to Mora and said, “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

Carter watched her walk back behind the counter piled high with books and he turned to Mora and observed, “I bet she knows the words to every Mary Poppins song, doesn’t she?” To which Mora took his arm again and allowed him to guide her as he explored her store.

Carter instinctively wandered to the fantasy section, his preferred genre of books. His eyes roamed over the selection of titles when he stopped on one in particular: a very nice hardcover edition of the Lord of the Rings.

“Carter, what are you doing?” Mora asked as she watched Carter pulled the volume from the shelf and tuck it into his arms. He sheepishly glanced around until he shifted his eyes to her and answered, “Uhhh, we’re in a bookstore? I’m buying a book.”

“You’re my son’s husband.” Mora stepped up, pointing to the volume in his possession. “Do you honestly think I’d charge you?”

But Carter proved to be equally as stubborn, stating, “You’re Miles’s Mom. Do you really think I wouldn’t support your business?” Leaving her without an immediate response but still, a pleasant feeling as she watched him continue to explore.

He picked up an edition of the literary classic, “the Picture of Dorian Gray” and finally, his gaze fell on “The Priory of the Orange Tree” by Samantha Shannon, its vibrant cover and promise of dragons too tempting to resist. That was when Mora felt best to reel him in, stating, “Okay, I think that’s enough for now before that son of mine has a fit.” Pulling him away before Carter could make for the small table adorned in rainbow colors and filled with books representing the LGBTQ community for the upcoming Pride month….


Carter had just settled into a corner table near the window, his newly chosen books stacked neatly beside him, when Mora appeared with two steaming cups. She slid one across the table to him with a smile, the rich aroma of roasted beans curling between them before taking the seat opposite him. Carter nodded his thanks and took a drink, savoring the surprisingly rich and flavorful taste.

That was when he found his mother-in-law's hand covering his own, drawing his attention to her warm, caring expression. She said “So, how have you been?”

“Me?” He questioned, seemingly caught off guard. “I'm fine. Miles and I are doing…”

“Carter,” Mora said softly, her fingers curling around his own. “I'm not asking about you and Miles. I want to know how you're doing.” Emphasis on the "you're”.

Carter stared into her eyes, trying to decipher what brought this on when it suddenly struck him. The answer. He closed his eyes and exhaled, “Miles talked to you, didn't he?”

“Of course he did.” Mora answered calmly. “Why else do you think he decided to take a detour from the capital of romance to visit home? He's worried about you.”

Carter shook his head “He doesn't have to…”

“Well he is.” She cut him off. “You know that son of mine. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He makes other people's troubles his own.”

“It’s one of the reasons why I love the man.” Carter said with a smile, setting his coffee down. “But he can’t keep doing that for his own mental health. Plus, this is as much a professional issue as it is personal. And Miles isn’t exactly impartial when it comes to my career.”

“He wants what’s best for you.” Mora smiled. “Being confident in someone you love isn’t a terrible trait.”

Carter said, “I know. He’s my biggest supporter. But with what’s going on, I think what I need is the exact opposite. That’s why my first instinct was to call my own Mom.”

“What do you mean?” Mora frowned. “Doesn’t your Mom support your career?”

“She never wanted me to be involved in wrestling.” Carter answered, shaking his head. “Every time I get hurt, it’s just another tally on her list of why I should get out of the sport. She and Grams barely watch my matches because it scares them so much.”

“That last match must have really done a number on them.” Mora observed, to which Carter nodded and said, “Yeah. My phone was lighting up before I ever made it to the hospital and … Wait, you watch?”

“Of course I do.” She said, “I might not be the biggest fan of wrestling but I am a fan of my son. And you.” She gave his hand a shake. “So talk to me.”

“I couldn’t even talk to my own therapist.” Carter shook his head, even though deep-down he felt the need to confide in someone. “I didn’t come all the way to London just to unload on you.”

Mora took Carter’s hand and wrapped it in her own, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. She said, “You listen to me, Carter. I have always - always - told my kids that they could come to me wherever they needed someone. And like it or not, for better or worse, you’re one of my kids now.”

Their eyes remained on one another’s until Carter’s lips turned upright in a smile and he nodded. He picked his almost forgotten coffee up again and slowly confided, “I really don’t even know what’s wrong with me. That’s the problem. I was fine going into the Elimination Chamber, even though everyone thought I’d never make it to the end. Then even after I did win, I was left wondering if I even should have because Jayden was a sitting duck thanks to Vincent Lyons.”

“Questioning the past is not going to do you any good.” Mora observed, her chin resting on her curled fingers. “You can’t change the past and if you continue wondering ‘what if,’ you’ll drown in self doubt.”

“Yeah, well… I’m already at that point.” Carter admitted in defeat. “I’ve had so many chances at the World Championship - and every time I’ve fallen flat on my face. In the tournament, I was eliminated in the first round. I challenged Finn and he beat me. Hell! Alex Jones even beat me and he hasn’t shut up about it since.”

Mora just sat there listening rather than intervene, knowing he needed to vent. Carter continued, “And ever since our match was made official, I keep having people tell me that I’m a failure. I always come close to the gold but I’m unable to go that extra mile to actually win it. Alex especially has been running me down, telling the world I don’t have what it takes to get the job done.”

“I imagine he means fighting dirty.” Mora said, to which Carter nodded. “It looked like you did pretty well for yourself when you were fighting with him. You’re not the one who was left running away.”

“I know.” Carter whispered. “I just-”

“You can’t let him get into your head, Carter.” She said, "That’s exactly what he wants: to throw you off your game before it even begins. You’ve trained too hard and come too far to let kindergarten mind games unravel everything. Stay focused on what you can control, not the noise he’s trying to make. Trust your instincts, trust your training. Block him out and play your game. Not his.”

Carter sat still as Mora’s words settled around him. He didn’t speak or nod, his hand still held lovingly by the woman seated across from him. Slowly, his shoulders eased, and his breath came a little more evenly. He looked up and into her eyes and just smiled.

“Thank you.”

---

The room was bathed in white - from floor to ceiling, and entirely empty save for the matching sofa and desk. The uniform whiteness reflected the overhead track lighting intensely, erasing depth and distorting perception, evoking feelings of isolation and sterility. Without any decor, the mind may begin to drift inward, amplifying thoughts and emotions.

The lone door that was almost invisible opened and in walked Miles Kasey in bleach-white scrubs, carrying a mannequin draped in a straight jacket with a magazine’s likeness of Alex Jones pasted on its face.  Miles nonchalantly dropped the mannequin onto the sofa and turned to look off camera.

“Oy! That basketcase patient of yours is ready doc!”

“Ah! Excellen Seig Heil!”

A voice with an obviously fake German accent called out. And there in the camera's range walked Doctor Carter Von Bottom. Clad in a suit, his hair clicked back, thick rimmed glasses and to top it off, a pointy beard glued to his chin. He stepped up to the sofa and as he left, Miles was unable to resist grabbing a handful of the good doctors backside.

Dr Carter watched as his aide took his leave before he turned back toward his patient, the viewpoint being from the mannequin itself seemingly.

“So! You haf kome to me Alex Jones fur help since you haf a problem vitt your noodle!”

He tapped a forefinger to his temple before clasping his hands behind his back.

“Zis is fery good! I always tell mein patients zat ze first schtep to recovery is admittingkt zat you haf a problem. Undt between you undt me…”

He leaned in closer toward the patient.

“I haf never met a more problematic man above ze neck zan you Alex Jones. You are a vorld class azzlete who has been respected by fan undt peer alike, undt here you schtand - or lay - ready to  yust throw it all aside. Just fur ze sake un taking ze easy vay out razzer zan earn your vay to your position as you vere once known to do. You cheat, Alex. or shall ve say, your schtrumpet Aaron Asphyxia, cheats for you. Undt vhile ze respectable zing vould be fur you to earn vhat you haf, much like vhen Aaron lays on your bed undt gives you ze full cowgirl, you take ze easy vay out.”

Doctor Carter began to pace back and forth in front of the patient.

“Now you must ask, vhy iz zis? Vhy do I cheat vhen I haf proven many times zat I do not need to? To get to ze root uff ze problem, ve must first explore vhy so many ozzers in sports uff all kinds feel ze need to cheat. People cheat in sports for a variety uff reasons, often schtemmingkt from a desire to vin at all kosts, wezzer for fame, financial reward, or personal ego. It iz ze allure uff victory, ze pressure to perform, undt even personal feelings uff inadequacy zat kan all contribute to cheatingkt behaviors.”

“For some athletes, vinningkt isn't just about ze trophy, but about proving zeir worth undt maintainingkt a positive self-image. At zis schtage uff your career, Alex, zis might just be ze answer zat ve seek. You vant people to remember you beingkt at your very best, even vhen zey are vatchingkt you at your vorst. For men like you, any attention is goot attention.”

“Vhile it is true zat some athletes may feel zey lakk zee natural ability or hafe an injury zat prefents zem from performink optimally, leadink zem to cheat to compensate. In your kase, zis is far from true because you have proven many times in zee past zat you neet not go zee low road to achieve ultimate viktory. You serft as a vonderful example to zee younger generations - both fan ant peer alike. So vhy zen do you not compete nov as sie dit once before?”

“Could it be because you look at zee kurrent playink field, your fellow wrestlers in zee locker room, ant sie see zem as younger. More fit? Perhaps efen shtrategikally superior inside of zee ring? If zis is zee case, zen zee answer voult be klear. Zee shtrong desire to excel ant outperform others can also kontribute to cheating, as athletes may see it as a vay to level zee playink fielt or gain an unfair advantage.”

“Or, could it be simple because…”

Dr Carter proceeded to remove first his glasses and then he stripped the fake pointy beard from his chin and he stared hard into the camera.

“Because you’re a fucked up asshole with all the morals and self respect of Donald Trump on his knees beneath the desk in the Oval office, giving blowjobs to Vladimir Putin!?”

Reaching back blindly behind him, Carter grabbed the one lone chair in the office and swiftly pulled it close behind him and dropped to it, still staring into the camera - IE the patient Alex Jones.

“Why don’t I just do the both of us a favor Alex and cut the bullshit? You can try to delve into the psyche of any one person who cheats in sports but there is one universal truth amongst the many: they are not victims. You - are not a victim! The truth of the matter is that your moral compass is obviously broken! Or maybe it was just never installed. You're like a GPS for ethical dilemmas, leading everyone straight into a pit of shame and regret. It really is impressive how you can navigate your life with a sense of right and wrong that’s as nonexistent as your ability to make a decent decision. Which leaves me to wonder, just what the rest of Wolfslair think of your recent life choices? In retrospect, I would like to think they remember just how you thoroughly chastised and reprimanded Miles for when he attacked Finn from behind. You lashed out at him verbally for his actions, leading such names as Alicia Lukas and Austin James Mercer to agree and turn their backs on Miles, acting as if the man never even existed!”

“And then you turn around and do not the same, but much worse. You beat the shit out of Finn badly enough that you ended up getting yourself disqualified. You pressured the higher ups for a rematch so that you could tie up your loose ends and what did you do? Oh we all know what you did! You embarrassed yourself and dragged the reputation of Wolfslair down into the mud by relying on Aaron to win the championship for you! I can’t recall Alicia ever needing help in order to pull off a win! Even at his worst, when did Austin ever have to rely on outside interference to pull off one of his many impressive wins? Maybe, just maybe… Everyone else in Wolfslair is about to open their eyes and see you for what you’ve become; a hypocritical shell of his former self! A blight on this sport that is going to drag their names down with you, the longer they bother associating with you!”

Carter stood up so fast that the swivel office chair beneath him was sent spinning back, settling hard against the desk.

“So let me ask you this, Alex. Why now? Before that first title match against Finn, you seemed quite content with your role in catering and being at best, a mid card Superstar. So what crawled up your ass and made you change your outlook on things? Because let’s face facts; your head is so far up your ass that it’s probably wher4e you do your best thinking! I am going to hazard a guess here and theorize that you decided that you were at a pretty late stage of your career. There’s been whispers in the locker rooms about that back injury of yours long before Finn Whelan ever made it public. And the rumors of a possible imminent retirement had tongues wagging for months. And yet there you were! Sitting in the background, away from the cameras and listening, allowing all of these people to give voice to your own self doubts. Your back concerned you as it should, and everything they had to say was only making it worse. You wondered how much longer you could go on inside of the ring from a physical standpoint and here your peers and the fans were speculating the same! Maybe even thinking it was time that you hung up your boots and let the younger generation take control and lead things from hereon in. And that right there is where you snapped.”

“Because when all is said and done, you are a self-admitted, self absorbed, egomaniacal twat waffle! You were watching the younger generation Superstars like myself take center stage and you just couldn't stand to share the spotlight! You truly believed that the further up the ladder men like me made it, the farther down you were getting pushed! So you shoved us out of the way and went to take back the spotlight that quite frankly, at this point in your career, you didn't deserve!”

“Try something new for a change Alex, and be honest. Who the hell did you defeat to earn that title match against Finn in the first place? You can't say that you beat Miles because for all your bravado and bluster, he took you to the absolute limit in a time limit draw! Yet somehow the very next week you get announced as the Challenger against Finn!”

Carter held out his arms in stark disbelief at the reasoning.

“I don't know if you played nice and played some bullshit political agenda with Mark or Christian, but in no way did you deserve that title match! Even less so did you deserve the rematch afterwards because you fucking blew it! You got disqualified by your own accord! And yet you have the balls to strut out here and question my validity as to why I'm your challenger!? At least I earned my place against you! At least I had the balls to step inside the Elimination Chamber which is a hell of a lot more than you can say! I had to go through six other men in order to get this chance against you for the Championship! I even went so far as to fight my own husband to get to this point, so don’t ever fucking tell me that I don’t have what it takes to go the distance against you! Don’t you believe for one second that I am not in my rightful place because I am exactly where I belong!”

“But you, Alex? It is truly impressive how you've managed to stumble upon success recently without even breaking a sweat. I mean, who knew that being an ass kisser and ‘being in the right place at the right time was an actual talent? Bravo!”

Carter applauded openly and quite brazenly.

“Alex, your success is like a participation trophy for a race you were too slow to even enter. It’s a pity that mediocrity can still find a way to stumble into the spotlight. You're like a broken pencil: pointless and always trying to take shortcuts, but in the end, you just prove that cheating is the only way you can even pretend to compete against men who have a longer and brighter future in this business than you could ever pretend to.”

“And yes.”

Carter nodded knowingly, but there was anything but merriment or even sarcasm in his eyes. It was something harder - darker.

“I am well aware I probably said some things that you were expecting. But in my defense, it's hard not to be predictable Alex. One can only say so much of variety week after week when dealing with an asshole that's as one dimensional as you are. It's like your personality took a shortcut through a flat field and forgot to pick up any depth along the way! You are not the unique and trail blazing star that you like to believe yourself to be! Do you think yourself unique? Do you believe that you’re something special and that everyone around you looks on in envy?”

Carter rolled his eyes.

“Bitch! You are not the special snowflake that you’ve led yourself to believe! Trust me when I say this: that there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of wrestling promotions around the world - and in every single one of those promotions,  there is a man just like you! When God or whatever deity you may choose to believe in made you, he, she or they did not break the mold! They just took one look at you and hit factory reset and churned out one right after the other! Hoping to eventually get it right but thus far have fallen short. You're like something limited edition. Everyone pretends to care, but deep down, we all know you're just another common print in a world full of masterpieces.”

Carter nodded.

“Yeah. You got one over on me. But here’s the thing: that was back in March. You act as if it was a cakewalk but it took two of your curb stomps to put me down! I gave you a bigger fight than you were ready for and deep down, that’s what got into your head. The fact that you practically passed out from the pain and exhaustion to pin me in that match. And when I won the Chamber, you realized that you and I were going to meet again but this time? The stakes would be higher. So you went the extra mile with the insults, telling me that I didn’t deserve to be where I am now. How I always get close to the brass ring, only to let it slip from out of my grasp. Sound familiar, Alex?”

“And all this time, you thought that you were in my head when the opposite has been true.”

Carter took a step closer to the door and opened it up, giving the camera one last look.

“I’m in your head now Alex, and after you see me holding up what used to be your precious World Heavyweight title? You’ll never get me out!”

He slammed the door shut behind him.

It was less than a week ago when all hell broke loose following the Main Event to Climax Control, and much of the controversy surrounded none other than the World Heavyweight Champion, Alex Jones. Alex had issued an ominous threat against his number one contender, Carter McKinney - promising that Carter’s loved ones would bear the burden of his “sins” against the champion. And Alex is nothing if not a man of his word.

Carter’s brother-in-law, Lyle Kasey Junior, fell in defeat to the veteran wrestler - and it was Carter that saved him from a post-match beat down. It was also Carter that suffered for his efforts, thanks in part to the timely interference of Aaron Asphyxia and a curb stomp right into the very same chair he had used against Alex mere seconds ago. Which was where we picked up mere minutes later, following the arrival of Carter’s husband and LJ’s half-brother Miles…

“Careful, luv.” Miles said as the curtains to the famed “gorilla position” were thrown open wide and he and a now alert LJ, helped Carter through - his arms draped over the shoulders of both Kasey brothers. They took one step at a time, carefully, as they led Carter down the small flight until Carter's feet met solid ground once again.

“Miles…” Carter said, his bell clearly been rung, but still as stubborn and as feisty as ever. “I’m fi-”

“You’re NOT fine.” But it was LJ who had spoken up in place of his own brother. He and Carter had issues between the two of them at one point but that was ancient history. Carter was his family now, and Carter had proven that by coming to his aid when he needed it. The least LJ could do was the very same. “I was RIGHT there and felt that fecking stomp! If I wasn’t so damn out of it…”

“Stop, the both of you.” Miles all but commanded as they set foot on the floor and were converged upon by some of their close friends such as a concerned Alexandra Calaway, not to mention Bella Madison and her own husband, Malachi. But it was the sudden presence of Christian Underwood, flanked by two of the backstage paramedics that were hired primarily for just such occasions.

“Follow me.” Was the simple but direct command of the SCW’s boss man as he did an about face and headed back up the aisle with Miles and LJ helping Carter along the path…

***

“Do you feel nauseated?” One paramedic asked Carter, as the young grappler sat on the bench in the room set aside for first aid. LJ had taken his leave momentarily alongside Alexandra, but Miles remained, hovering as close as allowed while the two paramedics did their work. Christian had taken his leave with the specific request that he and Mark Ward be updated as soon as possible on Carter’s condition.

The second paramedic made note of this on the tablet in his hand, while her peer shone a small light in Carter’s eyes, murmuring solidly, “So you just have the headache?” To which Carter nodded in the affirmative.

“I just had my head stomped into a steel chair.” Carter retorted with a trace of sarcasm in his tone. “I’d be surprised if I didn’t.”

“Babe…” Miles all but warned Carter, knowing his husband’s saucy nature and even more acidic tongue. But these professionals were only doing their jobs and Carter’s personality quirks could hinder that.

The older man that was kneeling in front of Carter for the examination glanced back at Miles over his shoulder and smiled appreciatively. He turned back to the ‘patient’ and addressed him, “No dizziness? No sensitivity to the light in this room?” Both of which Carter shook his head no to in answer. The paramedic then said, “Okay, up.”

Carter did as instructed, and the paramedic stepped back and said, “Walk across the room and back.” As in testing him for any signs of imbalance or sudden waves of dizziness that might arise. Carter did as told, walking across the room and passing Miles who watched his progress intently. Carter arrived at the far wall, then turned back but it was as he passed Miles again that Miles jumped, almost making a squeaking noise.

“Oop!” Miles quipped. “I think he’s good.”

“Why do you say that?” The female paramedic asked, shaking her head as Carter returned to sitting on the bench at their direction.

Miles answered, “He grabbed me arse.”

All heads turned to Carter who just wore that smoldering grin on his face. The male paramedic exhaled gently, shaking his head. He took his place beside his coworker and said for both Carter and Miles to hear, “I don’t think he has a concussion since he just has the headache, so I don’t think a trip to the hospital is necessary.”

“Thank fuck…” Carter whispered, but the paramedic continued, “Just take some over the counter aspirin for the headache for the time being. But I would suggest not leaving for Copenhagen tomorrow as scheduled. I would wait an extra day, just to be on the safe side.”

“Is that really necessary?” Carter asked, but before either paramedic could say anything, it was Miles who answered with a firm, “Yes it is!” prompting Carter to turn his head aside with an almost comical expression that silently said “Sorry I spoke!” Miles then looked to the two as he opened the door and he gave a genuine smile of appreciation for the care shown to his husband, “Thank you. Both of you.”

They both smiled and nodded as Carter slowly stood up, still feeling it, and Miles was quick to lend him a helping hand and he escorted him through the door as it shut behind them. Miles started to walk down the hall, heading in the direction of the locker rooms with his arm snugly wrapped around the waist of his husband.

Miles said, “I’ll drop you off for a moment to get your things and let LJ and Ally know we’ll meet them for a late dinner. I have to go talk to Christian.”

“About what?” Carter asked, his brow knitting into a frown as if he had some slight inkling on the direction Miles’s mind was headed. And he was right.

“Protective hubby mode has been activated.” Miles stated matter-of-factly, a statement that sounded silly but was anything but intended. “So I’m going to have a little chat with Christian and…”

But whatever else Miles was going to say was interrupted by a forceful, “no.” emanating from Carter himself who stopped, forcing Miles to come to a halt as well. Carter turned to face Miles directly and shook his head, a most uncharacteristic expression of stern authority on his own face. “Just… no.”

“No, what?” Miles questioned, to which Carter answered, “No going to Christian and wanting a match against Alex.”

“After what that fuck did to you!?” Miles asked, clearly caught off guard by this stark refusal on Carter’s behalf. “Why shouldn’t I go out there and kick his…?”

“Because I am asking you not to!” Carter’s voice rose before he could check himself. The two men stared into one another’s eyes, as if searching for something. A lingering silence was kept between them until Carter broke it with no small sense of discomfort. He asked, “Do you believe I can beat Alex?”

Miles frowned, as if he couldn’t believe Carter was questioning his faith in him. “Luv, you know I do!”

“Then you need to step aside and let me handle this.” Carter stated, his words strong. His tone was even stronger. “Because even if I do win the title from Alex, how seriously will anyone take me with you handling all my fights for me? Or softening up Alex for me two weeks before our match?”

Miles stared hard at him, but his facial expressions softened as he took in his words and the meaning behind them. If Miles went to Underwood now and demanded a match against Alex, it would be little to no better than what happened when Vincent Lyons interfered in the Elimination Chamber, costing Jayden Harris and leaving Carter questioning to this very day if he truly deserved that victory and the title opportunity against Alex Jones in Paris.

“You know I don’t like this?” Miles asked with more of a statement than a question. Carter just smiled and he answered back, “And you know how much I love it when protective hubby mode is activated but there are just sometimes when I have to do this on my own. Like now. Vincent already took away the credibility for my win in the Chamber. Please don’t do the same with Alex.”

Miles drew in a deep breath and gently exhaled through his nose, his eyes never leaving those beautiful blue orbs that he often found himself lost in. He felt the familiar warmth of love swell in his chest. Though he had his own thoughts, his own wishes melted in the light of Carter’s persistence. With a small smile he wrapped both arms around him and drew Carter into one of those famously talented hugs.

“If it matters to you, then it matters to me,” Miles said, his voice low and yielding, not out of defeat, but out of devotion.


Standing in an empty wrestling arena, the silence feels almost surreal, a stark contrast to the roar that usually fills the space. Rows of vacant seats stretch into the shadows, their stillness echoing with memories of cheers, chants, and the clash of bodies in the ring. The faint scent of sweat and adrenaline lingers in the air, mixing with the sterile smell of disinfectant. Overhead, spotlights cast long, sharp beams onto the vacant ring, now just a silent stage awaiting its next battle. The emptiness carries a strange weight, as if the ghosts of past matches still linger, watching, waiting for the bell to ring again. And it was inside of that ring where the “Pride of SCW” - Helluva Bottom Carter, stood.

The camera panned a surrounding shot, showcasing each side of both this young grappler as well as the arena where in two days, the latest stop on the Viking Era tour would take place. More to the point, it would be where Carter would put the proverbial foot down on an issue that had arisen in recent weeks.

“Let me put this as gently as I can, and this goes out to the so-called ‘loose cannon’ of the Lyons Den. My opponent in just a matter of days. Vincent Lyons … Junior. Vincent, I won’t pretend any sort of good will between your family and myself - save for perhaps Eddie and that’s only because in a family of black sheep, Eddie is solid gold. But with his present company excluded, please allow me to say that the Lyons family is about as stable as a game of Jenga during an earthquake!”

“And yes, this all started when the Queen Bee herself, Little Ms Victoria, decided to play sex therapist between Miles and myself and show us that pain is supposedly pleasure or something to that degree. Really, who the hell knows what goes through that woman’s head? I mean I could say she’s the more shallow basket case between the two of you when the truth is just that much more simple; Victoria Lyons is like a family heirloom that nobody wants to inherit. Cluttered, outdated, and just a constant reminder of how bad taste can run in the same bloodline. I never really had any issues with the woman, up until she decided to play off some perverse pleasure of watching Miles and myself beat one another bloody. I mean, she and I even bonded somewhat over our mutual affection for Patti Lupone.”

Carter snapped his finger as if to proclaim, “Yes Queen!”

“But after your actions in the Chamber, and her being almost as dismissive as you were in what you cost me? The gloves are off and the filter is non-existent. But this isn’t about her, not really. This is about you and why I went to the brass and asked for this match specifically. This is why I wanted to stand inside of the ring against a man so many are calling one of the more physically and psychologically dangerous Superstars in all of Sin City Wrestling. And that is to deliver one very simple message…”

“Stay out of my business!”

Carter raised his brow, his eyes glaring right into the camera.

“I blame you, Vincent. For everything! SCW was making history and seven men went into that Elimination Chamber and we put on the grandest show, one that I am certain will have its place as a Match of the Year candidate. We didn’t leave a single fan in their seat that night, but you just couldn’t handle that, could you? You just had to be a part of things, even if literally nobody wanted you out there! I had Jayden! I knew it then, just as I know it now! But you took that away from me. For whatever reason you have it out for the Brat, you took away all credibility of that one career defining win! Now, for the remainder of my career, I am going to be left wondering those two most painful words – ‘what if?’! And that’s why I wanted this match! That is why I called you out!”

“You  and that Queen cousin of yours, you both told me to just accept the win and move on.”

Carter shook his head.

“Sorry Junior, but I don’t work that way. Do you honestly think for a second I haven’t come across men like you before? The kind of man who walks into a room and makes the air feel charged, like a storm about to break? Unpredictable and explosive, a man that plays by no one’s rules. Not because he wants to be thought of as a rebel, but because rules simply didn’t exist in your world! A man who’s temper flares without warning, your maniacal laughter too loud, and who’s silence is often more dangerous than your words.”

“I’ve known men like you my whole life, Vincent. People around you watch with a mix of awe and fear, never sure if you’re about to start a fight or crack a joke. A loose cannon, volatile and magnetic, the kind of man you can’t trust but also you can’t ignore.”

“But here’s the thing; do you know what happens when you turn your back on so-called ‘loose cannons’ and ignore their reputations? They disappear. All of your words - which I’m certain Victoria thinks of as sharp and commanding - are going to fall flat on deaf ears. And you are going to fall flat beneath the uncomfortable weight of your own failure. You and Victoria think of you as some powerful figure to be in awe of, but in truth the world sees you as you are. Small. Insignificant. Grasping at some ghost of control that you never really had in the first place outside of your own family tree, if even there!”

Carter approached the side of the ring where he leaned against the ropes, resting his forearms on the top rope and he looked down into the camera below.

“The sad, simple truth of this entire ordeal between us Vincent is that I don’t care. I don’t care about you, or whatever the hell you have going against Jayden Harris. Jayden made his thoughts about me all too evident last week and I can respond to everything he said about me with two very simple words - ‘suck it!’. But you, this is about you. Literally everyone around the world watched you get involved in the Chamber, but at the time nobody was angry at you. They just felt pity. Because interfering in that match was like seeing a raccoon try to join a ballet recital. Completely out of place and embarrassing for everyone involved. Especially your own flesh and blood.”

“She’d never admit it but I can’t imagine Victoria feeling anything but shame where you’re concerned. She’s become the most dominant Bombshell Roulette Champion in recent memory so kudos to her! And no matter where he stands, no matter what Victoria says to the contrary, Eddie is a success story and his star is just going to burn hotter and shine brighter the longer he’s in the spotlight! But you?”

“If you were any more of a failure to your family, you’d have to apply for a part-time job as a cautionary tale! I mean, people talk down on me about not being able to extend my reach and grab that brass ring, but you serve as something of an inspiration for all the wrong reasons. It’s impressive how you’ve achieved absolutely nothing with all the time in the world to be somebody other than Victoria’s toady!”

Carter gave the ring ropes a hard tug - as if testing them - but he used them as a means to stand upright. Tall and proud. The number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship. 

“I also admit that this match is going to serve another purpose, so I hope you don’t mind my use of you as something akin to a guinea pig. Men like you… Men like Alex Jones. You question me. Question whether or not I have the killer instinct to do what must be done in order to take that one, final step up the mountain. Well, after Sunday? Nobody is going to be questioning just how far I can go in order to get things done - and to make things right. The days of people questioning how far I can go in this business are going to come to an end, and I can only pray to god that Alex Jones will be watching - because while you’re first? He’s next.”

Carter then stepped through the ropes and dropped to the ringside floor, one last thing to say to the Lyons whom he knew would be watching.

“Oh, and Queen Victoria? Do let me know where to send flowers in lieu of Vincent digging his own grave.”

He puckered his lips and walked into the shadows of the arena’s darkness.

Perhaps one of the more familiar sites as of late where Carter Kasey-McKinney had been concerned as of late, but this time, things would be seen a bit differently. Because when the door that led inside of the fifth floor condo that the 2023 and 2024 Couple of the Year called home, it was not Miles who was accompanying Carter inside, but someone who had not been seen in some time – Carter’s best friend for a number of years, Ariana Angelos.

The day had been long and grueling, but not because the two besties had spent all of their time in training at the GO Gym, Carter to better prepare himself for Blaze of Glory XIV or Ariana to keep her ring skills razor sharp on the off chance she might be interested in an eventual return to the six-sided ring. No, the two had spent a rare day together at the movies and lunch, and then a shopping spree at the Fashion Show Mall that spanned the remainder of the day. When it came to shopping with Carter and his bestie, it was more of a sprint than a marathon and the two buddies were thoroughly exhausted by day’s end.

“Oh god, I missed this!” Carter exhaled with a smile, setting his shopping bags down to the cherry wood floor paneling at his feet, while an equally exhausted Ariana set her own bags on the Ottoman, turning to her closest of friends with an inquisitive smirk.

“What are you talking about?” She asked. “You go shopping at the mall all the time.”

“Not all the time!” Carter objected, walking across the foyer of the condo and he sat down on the white sectional sofa that dominated the living space. “I do the online thing too… maybe a bit too much. I’m on a first name basis with a few Amazon drivers.”

Ariana smiled as she joined Carter on the sofa and after kicking her open-toe shoes off, surly her feet up under her with an arm draped on the back of the sofa. She asked, “Where is that husband of yours anyway?”

To which Carter answered, “He’s off with LJ, somewhere on the Strip. Brotherly bonding and all that! They both invited me to tag along but I thought they needed time to themselves every now and then. Things are still new between them.”

“It’s not because of that whole mistrust issue you have with LJ?” Ariana asked, and Carter was quick to correct her, “‘Had,’ Ari. Past tense. I know things were tense at first when LJ showed up, but I can admit when I’m wrong.”

A single, perfectly coifed eyebrow rose on Ariana’s forehead, causing Carter to put on his best affronted act, a face that screamed aghast and hand on his chest. “I just don’t have that option often enough to know the feeling!” He declared, allowing her to nod with a satisfied smirk.

“That’s my boy.” She said. Ariana then glanced around and asked, “Where’s Ms. Thang?”

Carter then started to look around, noticing that his and Miles’s ‘baby girl’ didn’t come greeting them with head bonks to the shin or weave between their legs and cause a face plant to the floor like was a normal routine of the little black and white Tuxedo cat.

“I’m not sure.” He said softly before he started to cluck his tongue, a gesture that had started to act as close to a summoning or a calling for Ms. Thang as anything could.

He called aloud, “Here kitty, kitty…!” Before the mistress of the homestead finally deigned to grace them with her presence, but all was not as Carter might have believed it should be. Ariana spotted her first, only a split second before Carter himself did. The cat’s head peaked slowly, almost as if with caution, around the corner of the guest bedroom door which was slightly ajar, giving Carter pause. He could have sworn that he had closed that door after airing it out.

“Hey girl…” Carter cooed, leaning over at the waist in a gesture of invitation. “What’s wrong?” Realizing that she was not immediately heading over to them for her usual tribute of head scratches and massages. She almost seemed cautious before finally moving over into the foyer and hopping up onto the sofas where her daddy and ‘Auntie Ariana’ started cooing over her and helping her to relax.

“What’s wrong?” Ariana asked with a soft voice as she stroked the fur along her head, taking care to pay close attention to that spot between her ears. Ariana knew Carter and Miles’s girl well enough to know her massage preferences. Ariana added, “You know me!”

“Course she does!” Carter insisted. “She’s probably just still a little bitter about having to get her annual shots at Dr. Mary’s this week.”

“Aww!” Ariana pouted her bottom lip. Carter then leaned over and whispered like a co-conspirator, “Took two vet techs to hold her down and she still managed to draw blood.”

“That’s my girl!” Ariana chuckled, and finally the cat crawled up into her lap and perched there like Ariana’s lap was her throne. Ari then cast her gaze toward Carter and asked, “So how are you doing? Really.”

“Me?” Carter asked, confused. “I’m fine.”

Ariana rolled her eyes and said, “Carter. I’m your best friend. I’ve always been able to tell when you’re lying.”

“How?” Carter all but demanded, then quickly changed his tune and stated, “I most certainly do not!” causing his BFF to smother a smile, but not quickly enough. She pointed a forefinger toward her own eyes and answered, “You have this way about batting your eyelashes a little bit when you’re not being entirely honest.”

She then tilted her head to the side and asked, “Is this about your match with Miles?”

Carter sighed, seemingly avoiding her gaze as both she and Ms. Thang looked back toward him. He sighed, “Is it that obvious?” To which she pinched a thumb and forefinger close together.

He finally admitted, “I’m just nervous, Ari. This match is serious. It could be violent. And I’m in there against my own husband and I-I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Have you tried talking to Miles about it?”

“And say what?” He asked. “Confide that I’m feeling the same way that he probably is?”

“Fair.” She conceded. “But you have to talk to someone.”

Carter nodded, a downcast look on his face. “I considered Doctor Delacore but this is out of her realm of expertise. Besides, I can’t just go run to my therapist every time I have a problem.” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Ariana patted his shoulder before giving it a light squeeze. She said, “In the meantime, why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch? I’ll order us a nice curry. I’m in the mood for something spicy!” She then glanced down at the feline who was now curled up on her lap and purring with contentment. “It looks like I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

“Now you’re talking!” Carter’s face lit up, all concerns over the past few minutes all but forgotten. He stood upright and crossed the immediate threshold to the shelves where he and Miles had grown quite the collection of DVDs and BluRays. True streaming was the thing now, but both he and his husband had an affinity for the classics.

“Hello?” he heard Ariana on the phone. “I’d like to place an order for delivery?”

Carter reached for the movie he had his heart set on when he paused, his face confused and his eyes roaming the collection. Noticing this, Ariana covered the phone with her hand and asked, “Carter? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” Carter said. “I just bought Kraven and thought we could watch it, but it’s not where I put it on the shelf.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her brow knitted in a confused frown. “Where is it?”

“Well, it was on the shelf…” He answered, picking the BluRay up from the spot his eyes discovered it. “It’s just not where I put it.”

He turned around to Ariana and shook his head, “It was moved.”

---

The Elimination Chamber

Seven men will enter this history-making match in Sin City Wrestling, and only one will exit with both the honor of being the very first victor as well as being named the number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship. Whether it be Finn Whelan or Alex Jones, both would be paying very close attention as whoever walked out of the Chamber would have earned it, and thereby declared themselves publicly as a legit threat to their championship reign.

And one of those seven men - Helluva Bottom Carter - stood on the viewing deck of the Las Vegas Strip’s Eiffel Tower, his eyes surveying the night life for the famed “City of Sin” that had become his home. All of the lights of the hotels and Casinos along the famed Strip beneath the night sky, while the lights of hundreds of cars passing along the historic route, going both to and fro.

“I’m going to fill you in on a little secret Bulldog. I know, I could call you by your given name of Bill or your surname of Barnhart but to me? As both a peer and a fan of this business before I ever set foot inside of the ring? To me, you’ll always be the Bulldog. Anyway, out of all the men I've competed against from SCU to SCW, you rank right at the top as one of my favorite opponents. Not just toughest, but favorite.”

“Reason being, for all of your accolades. For every championship and Hall of Fame induction that you've earned - and believe me when I say there's been plenty from both sides - you don't take yourself as seriously as you might want for us to believe. I mean, any grizzled veteran of the ring such as yourself that can break out into song during a promo?”

Carter shows those pearly whites and salutes the camera.

“Respect! You and I have had our share of experiences inside of the ring, in both singles and tag team matches. And for someone who is as old school as you are, it amazed me just how open-minded you are as an opponent. You never once hesitated in getting up close and personal. You were, are, an equal opportunity butt kicker. In fact, the only thing I ever had against you doesn’t even really have anything to do with you, either as a person or a wrestler.”

Carter leaned in closer toward the camera with his hand cupped over his mouth to stage whisper.

“It’s your wife and manager. And this isn’t even because of how she involves herself in your promos. I mean, who cares if she does some of the talking? She’s your manager. A manager is a mouthpiece for their wrestler, so you shouldn’t be penalized for her doing her job.”

Carter briefly looked into the camera before resuming his shoot.

“No, this is because she’s both a back stabber and a hypocrite. Now I know you feel the need to defend her by proxy but let’s be honest. She’s about the most dishonest person in SCW and that includes Logan Hunter and Kevin Carter. This is the woman that helped blind Fenris and then told the world it never happened, even though everyone saw it! This is the woman who warns everyone not to interfere in your matches lest they incur her wrath – and then goes out and interferes in your matches herself. Get where I’m going with this, Bulldog? I’m hoping that you haven’t grown too comfortable with her lending you a helping hand because that’s not happening this time around. You’re going to be inside of a sealed pod and the Chamber itself, and she’s going to be on the outside with absolutely no way to help. It’s just you and six other men, Bulldog. Let’s make history!”

That said, Carter briefly leaned over for something off camera and proceeded to pick up a small, potted cactus. He gave it the once over before setting it back down.

“Funny the things you find here in Vegas, isn’t it Vinnie? I remember that match I had with you back in January of 2023 like it was yesterday. Yeah, can you believe it’s been that long? Two years since you and I set foot inside of the ring against one another! I can only hope the fact that the memory still lingering to this very day is a testament to just what that match meant to me at Inception VI. I remember I wasn’t exactly in my best frame of mind - which I’m fairly certain that you can relate to. At least from a professional standpoint. I was ready to chuck it in and settle for being a curtain jerker for the remainder of my career, were it not for two certain individuals. One was, of course, my now husband Miles. He had no intention of letting me step back into the shadows of obscurity, and neither would the other person I make mention of… You, Vinnie.”

Carter nodded.

“Yeah, you might not even be aware of what you did for me at that point in time, Vinnie, but I’m here to tell you now. I know full well that I wasn’t booked for Inception VI. Another Supercard event with yours truly holding down the fort in catering. A feeling that I thought I should get used to. And then you stepped in. You weren’t booked either. In fact, you were making something of a return as I recall and you wanted booked, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You are a former World and Internet Champion more than once and you weren’t going to be left out. And seemingly, you weren’t going to let me be left out either. You wanted a match, you wanted me as an opponent, and you and I practically set that ring ablaze with the performance we gave the world.”

“And I’ll be honest with you. I still feel as if I won that match by the skin of my teeth. You beat me from pillar to post and showed me the tough love inside of the ring that I desperately needed. You showed me why, despite all of your unique characteristics, you are a former World Heavyweight and Internet Champion. And that win against you was all the proof that I needed that I belong up there as well. It was that win that gave me the confidence I needed to win the Internet title from Peter Vaughn. And it’ll carry me on though this match and straight towards the World Championship. So I will thank you again Vinnie for everything that you did for me then, but you won’t be thanking me anytime soon for what’s going to happen in just over a week.”

Carter then paused, arms resting on the rail of the deck, his head lowered. After several lingering moments, he glanced up and scoffed, shaking his head.

“You know Eddie Lyons, and what I am about to say is going to be said with respect so I hope that you take it that way. Out of all the men in this match, to me, you are the truest wildcard out of everyone. I’ve been inside of the ring against Finn Whelan. I’ve watched countless others step inside of the ring against the champion and it’s my personal opinion that you took one of the most dominant champions in SCW history to the brink of defeat. I was honestly shocked that you didn’t walk away with the gold that night, but that’s more a testament to the caliber of athlete Finn is than anything negative about yourself.”

“And I am positive that not only will you get another shot at the championship and one day will become top dawg around here, but it won’t be because of the Elimination Chamber because you won’t be the man with his arm raised in the end. Because when you decided to stoop low enough to infer that Miles and I were the ‘weak links’ of this match because of our devotion to one another, you made me all the more determined to see you not walk out the winner. You think that just because Miles and I aren’t willing to bash each others heads into the Chamber and reduce each other to bloody pulp that we don’t have it in us to win the Chamber?”

Carter just shook his head, his eyes never straying far from the camera.

“I’ll tell you again what I told you then. Miles and I don’t have to turn each other into ground beef in order to compete against each other. You on the other hand? You flat out said that you’d do it for us so please, allow me to hit you with the one insult that is going to have you so damn pissed that it’ll make you want to use my head and the Chamber like a cheese grater! You are more like your cousin than you pretend to NOT be! And I welcome you to try anything and everything that you think yourself capable of doing at my expense – and we’ll just see for ourselves if you’re truly ‘Unbreakable’.”

Carter stood upright and his face took on a more serious expression, one more annoyance than determination.

“And I will go on record and reiterate that Jayden Harris and J2H do not belong anywhere near this match! They don't! This whole thing between them has been dragging on since Jayden ran J2H down because, at the time, Daddy Dearest, was unable to get the job done. And that was how long ago? Let it die out already because it's getting to the point where nobody cares anymore! The only ones who do are …”

Carter motioned from side to side toward the camera.

“The two of you. And you two could have had some big match to bring this thing between you to a close at Blaze of Glory. Something epic between just the both of you that would burn its way into the memories of wrestling fans and your own peers for years to come. But no. Instead, you horn in on a history-making event that neither of you belong in. Of course I'm pretty certain what the both of you are going to say. Or at the very least, what J2H is going to say. He's going to say what he always says - I'm J2H!... And that's it. That's his reasoning. That's his justification for being handed everything that he thinks he's entitled to.”

“J2H! 2016 and 2017 Wrestler of the Year! J2H! 2016 and 2017 Man of the Year! J2H! In 20168, ranked by Tommy Knocks as the greatest Superstar in SCW history! J2H! 2019 Hall of Fame inductee! J2H! Longest championship reign in the history of Sin City ..!”

Carter briefly broke his focus, smiling and holding up a hand.

“Sorry, force of habit. That one doesn't belong to you anymore, at least it won't in a matter of days. That's when our current champion, Finn Whelan, will have broken your record. Now granted there are arguments that the competition levels between them and now differ like night and day…”

Carter scrunched up his face and shook his head

“I can't say I agree with that, but it's neither here nor there. Point is that in a matter of days you are no longer going to be the Golden Child of Sin City Wrestling. Your time of waltzing in like you own the place and think you can call all the shots? Gone. Your time of thinking you have Mark Ward and Christian Underwood wrapped around your little fine? Gone. The days of you walking in and just getting a championship match just because you feel like it? Gone. Do you honestly think that if you win - you won't - but if you do and you happen to unseat the champion? That they'll let you get away with your usual modus operandi of MAYBE winning the championship and then just throw it back in the faces of EVERYONE by just vacating it rather than defend it like a REAL champion?”

Carter closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Two times you won the World Championship and just vacated it. Two times you won the Internet title and just left it there like you were proving some kind of insipid point. I always wondered why you would do that when you worked hard to win the championship in the first place. Attitude aside, I actually respected you because you were one of the first wrestlers to prove that guys like us, guys like me - light heavyweights - belonged in this business and could succeed in it. And then the answer struck me from out of nowhere and even I have to admit it was a disheartening discovery. Maybe you preferred vacating rather than defending simply because – you couldn’t. I mean, you could but whatever reign you had in the now would pale in comparison to that first one and your ego just could not handle it. And your ego is not going to be able to handle the Elimination Chamber because there is not a man involved in that match who is not going to work overtime just to keep you from winning and once again tarnishing the prestige of the SCW World Championship!”

“But… as infuriating as your previous actions have been, at the very least you have proven time and again that J2H is money. J2H is a Main Event level star. You worked your way from the bottom to the very top, from being the laughing stock of the locker room to the envy of many. More than I can say really for Jayden Harris - the guy who shares the reason why either one of you are even involved in this match in the first place.”

“I mean, I get it. The bosses think a major feud will help sell this match - both Chamber matches actually because what they did for you two? They also did for the Bombshells’s Chamber match, gifting the spots to Candy and Necra rather than have them actually win a qualifying match to earn it.”

“But I suppose that’s just one of the benefits of being SCW’s resident nepo-baby, isn’t it Jayden? I mean, the sheer level of hypocrisy that practically radiates off of you is about as blinding as staring into an eclipse. Some time ago last year, you told the world that you were not your father, and you’re right. You’re not. While I am not the biggest fan of his for obvious reasons, at the very least, Michael Harris had a personality that wasn’t dominated by this overbearing chip on his shoulder. He at the very least had a personality that didn’t make him seem like Bart Simpson had stepped into the real world. Your father had style. He had charisma. And he had a legacy that is going to be remembered for years to come. Decades! Can you actually say the same? Because for a man that tells the world over that he’s not his father and wants to separate himself from his legacy, sure does seem to be reaping the benefits of being a second generation Superstar!”

“After all, how else can you really explain this immediate push to the stratosphere that you’ve been enjoying ever since you signed your name on the dotted line? Because you are the son of Michael Harris. It’s sure as hell not because of your own merit because you really haven’t done what you want the world to believe.”

“Okay, you made it to the Quarter-Finals of the 2024 Blast From the Past before you pussed out and stabbed your partner in the back. That alone showed your lack of maturity inside of the ring and proof you never would have made it past Whelan or whoever the champion might have been at the end of the tournament. But aside from that…?”

Carter held his arms out with an expression of wonder.

“You’ve been so consumed by J2H and his bootlicks that you haven’t really noticed that there is a whole roster that is anxious for the chance to step inside of the ring against the so-called ‘future legend’ that you claim to be. Granted, you got some pretty impressive wins for yourself against the likes of Alexander Raven and Kevin Carter in the process, but once again: you have blinders on, taking your attention completely away from everything else going on around you. There is more to SCW than J2H. More than Kevin Carter. And even as we near the Elimination Chamber, why are you even involved? Because of your obsession with J2H! The simple truth of the matter is that you did not earn your spot in the Chamber like five other men did. You fell into it. You lucked out! True, you did make J2H tap out but at the same time, HE pinned YOU and I am STILL trying to wrap my head around the way that worked.”

“Oh and side note? Don’t get cocky because you made the great J2H tap out. You weren't the first to manage that. That honor goes to Fenris.”

“Which brings me back to my original point. When Song and Seleana Zdunich both missed out on their chance to get into the Chamber, they didn’t get a second chance. Nobody else that flubbed theory shot got a second chance, so why then did you? Answer: Because you’re the son of Michael Harris.”

“I admit it. I want to like you. After the hell you’ve been put through over the past year, I want to support you. I want to root for you and have your back if you need it the next time you get jumped. But Jayden, I am going to say two words that are probably going to haunt you in the years to come. Earn. It! Daddy isn’t here to help you out this time, and once that Chamber door closes, neither is anyone else.”

Carter then leaned against one of the metallic support structures and drew in a deep breath, his face marred by concern.

“I guess you could say I saved the best for last.

Carter shook his head, his visage confused.

“I still don’t know how this is supposed to play out if Miles and I are the two that have to begin this match, or if we’re the final two. Anything could happen in this match where we end up left alone inside of the Chamber and then what? Both of us have the same hopes and dreams going into this match; to win and secure for ourselves a shot at the World Championship. And for one of us to realize our dream, we have to dash the hopes of the one person we love. And I’ll be honest - the very thought scares me.”

“How do you look at the person who brought you from the brink of disaster and showed you a love that you never thought you deserved, and tell them that your dreams will be put ahead of their own? When I sat backstage and watched Miles earn his spot in the Chamber by beating Logan Hunter, I was as proud as a husband could be. I was telling everyone who would listen - willing or otherwise - that we were looking at the winner of the first-ever Elimination Chamber. And then I was scheduled for my own qualifying match against Connor Murphy. And when I won that match, all I could think afterwards was ‘what did I just do?’”

“Admittedly this isn’t the first time that Miles and I faced each other in a match - and I’m not counting that bullshit match that Victoria Lyons tried to force us into. I’m thinking more about the time that Miles was the Roulette Champion back in `22. For some god forsaken reason the powers that be granted me a title shot at the worst time in my life, and unbeknownst to Miles or anyone else, I walked into that match with a broken finger. And through no one’s fault but my own, I think I became the first person in history to tap out to a hammerlock. Not my proudest of moments but my point remains the same. That match was our last legit competitive match - well before we started dating and long before we got married. And now here we are, together in possibly one of the potentially most violent matches conceivable and I … I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to handle this.”

Carter then moved over to the elevator and pressed the ‘down’ button. He turned toward the camera, his eyes glistening. And for all intents and purposes, he might as well have been looking at Miles himself.

“Miles, you know that I love you. More than any poet could ever describe and do it justice. But you and I have the same dream going into this match, and as much as we want to support each other's dreams, only one of us is going to be able to make it out of there as the winner.”

The elevator door slid open and Carter stepped inside, giving the camera one last, lingering stare.

“So let’s you and I prove Eddie Lyons wrong and one of us win this thing without busting each other open?”

He gave a wistful smile before the elevator door closed.

A familiar enough site for anyone with a knowledgeable history where some of Sin City Wrestling's resident Superstars were concerned. The Towers, located a mere block away from the famed Vegas Strip, was where not only Carter and Miles called home, but of course, Fenris - his husband David Shepherd and his brother Aron as well. It was centrally located on ten acres right in the heart of Vegas and everywhere around the Towers was something for the residents to take hearty advantage of.

But in this particular condominium on the fifth floor, there were two faces most familiar with the SCW Universe on the scene...

"Mal and I really appreciate you and Miles letting us crash here for a few days." Bella Madison said amicably as she and Carter Kasey-McKinney emerged from the hallway of the luxury condo in which Carter and his husband Miles called home. Having helped Bella get her things settled in the guest room, Carter paused and gave Bella a funny look at her use of the phrase 'and Mal' to which she sighed with a smile and a slight shake of her head.

"Okay," She admitted. "I appreciate it. Mal was kind of pushing for us to stay at a hotel."

"Why?" Carter frowned. "Hotels are just an unnecessary expense. Why would someone rather stay in a hotel than with friends..." Carter trailed off, looking into Bella's teasing eyes and he looked aside and exhaled gently.

"He was afraid he would overhear Miles and I going at it." Carter reasoned, to which Bella betrayed the truth with a laugh as she admitted, "Yeah. I believe his exact words were 'I don't want to hear those two making barnyard noises all night!'" In the best impression of Malachi's husky Irish accent that she was able to muster.

"Uh huh..." Carter mused. "Well not that I'm making any promises, but how did you manage to convince him to stay over while you were in town?"

"I told him that you guys had the bedroom sound proofed." Bella answered all too casually as she had a seat on their sofa in the front room. Carter remained standing at the foot of the sofa and he folded his arms over his upper body and frowned, "And he bought that?"

"By the time he finds out the truth, it'll be too late." Bella answered, to which Carter just shook his head and turned around, stating, "We'll try to control ourselves."

"Where are they, anyway?" Bella then asked, sitting upright and having a look around. "The movie is going to start soon." A movie. In the City of Sin and playing hosts, Miles and Carter would have taken their guests to anywhere they wanted to go for a nice evening out. A dinner, nightclub - anything. But all Malachi and Bella wanted (for this particular evening) was a movie and a nice home cooked meal.

Carter just directed her attention toward the sliding patio doors where indeed Miles and Malachi could be seen standing in the cool, Las Vegas air and hovering over Miles's most cherished possession - his grill.  "I think they're still debating over the proper way to stack charcoal briquettes." Carter said, turning to give Bella an exasperated look.

To which she replied, "You know you'd avoid silly debates like that if Miles would just get a gas grill." Carter just stared at her and visibly shuddered before he said with much faux seriousness in his voice, "Oh I just dare you to suggest that to Miles!"

Bella just smiled and held her hands up in surrender but just in time as the patio door slid open, letting in a gust of cool wind to blow across the foyer. Ms. Thang, perched on her royal throne aka the coffee table, looked up from her royal nap and twitched her whiskers in annoyance before hopping down and moved about the condo to continue her leisure.

"It's about time!" Carter greeted the two men as Miles and Malachi entered the condo, Mal sliding the patio door closed behind the pair. "Who won the big debate?"

"It's my grill." Miles stated matter-of-factly, giving his husband a quick smooch. "I won." And behind Miles, Malachi mimicked his friend by making a face and mouthing the exact same words Miles had just spoken.

"Well fascinating as the Great Briquette debates are, I'm sure..." Bella all but announced, standing up from where she was sitting. "That scintillating wit could have waited. We need to get to the movies."

"Yeah," Miles stole a glance at the clock on the wall. "I checked and the next showing for Captain America isn't too far from now."

"Captain America?" Carter frowned. "I was hoping we could go see Flow."

"Oo!" Bella turned around from grabbing hers and Malachi's jackets, eyes wide with a reflection of excitement in her baby blues. "I thought Flow was out of theaters! I haven't seen it yet!"

Carter stated with a smile, "I found a theater that keeps those indie films longer than most others!" At about the same time Malachi said, "You can see that on Max any time!"

But Bella was not someone to just not accept a random gauntlet being tossed down at her feet and she helpfully pointed out, "Considering how fast those Marvel films go to streaming these days, you could say the same for Captain America."

"Besides," Carter added. "The MCU has went downhill ever since Endgame! I mean, just look at Kraven!"

"Kraven isn't a part of the MCU!" Malachi barked, but Carter debated, "Close enough!"

"And besides..." Carter then walked around the edge of the sofa, joining Bella at her side for what was fast becoming a "wives versus husbands" debate, even if one of the wives was, in fact, a man. "The only good thing they've done since is Agatha."

Malachi audibly scoffed to which Carter spun around and held out a finger, pointed directly at him, "Ohhh NO!" Malachi blinked back with widened eyes and looked to Miles who just shrugged with a smirk, stating, "Thou shalt not speak Agatha's name in vain in this house." Causing his male guest to roll his eyes quite noticeably.

"So what are we going to do?" Bella asked, passing her husband his jacket to stave off the bitter chill that Vegas was still seeing at this early time of the year. "We clearly don't agree on what movie to see?"

"Well," Miles offered. "You two..." he pointed at Bella and Carter. "Could go see Flow while Mal and I watch Captain America. They've got to be playing at the same theater."

"They are." Carter answered with a nod. "But Captain America starts thirty minutes later and is almost an hour longer. So Bella and I would be left sitting and waiting for over an hour for you two."

"And...?" Mal shrugged his shoulders, earning him a swat in the upper body from his wife. Malachi cleared his throat and looked innocently toward first his wife and then to a smiling Miles. Malachi nodded toward Miles and then to Carter, half jokingly saying, "You two could just arm wrestle for it as the hosts."

Miles smiled and Carter just looked between them and shrugged, slipping off his feathered wool/denim jacket, "Sure, I'm game!"

Carter passed his jacket over to Bella and Malachi just smiled confidently, knowing full well that his friend Miles was clearly the physically stronger of the two. Miles just went along with it, always a good sport no matter the circumstance. He too removed his jacket and flung it over the back of the sofa and followed Carter toward the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of their home. Bella and Malachi watched closely as both of their hosts took their positions and placed their elbows on the bar counter.

Bella stepped up to play the role of referee as her boys locked their hands together, their fingers interwoven.

"You ready?" Bella asked each, and both Carter and Miles nodded. "Okay... go!"

And no sooner did she call out for the contest to begin, than did Carter reach up and with a deft flick of his hand, pop open the upper half of his button up shirt, flashing Miles his developed left pectoral. Miles stared and Carter swiftly put his arm down for the win. Miles remained slack jawed and his lustful gaze followed his husband as he walked back around to the foyer, buttoning his shirt back up as a very pleased Bella announced to a startled Malachi, "Flow it is!"

Malachi watched as Carter and his wife headed for the front door and he called out, "Two out of three!"

"Not a chance!" Bella shouted back.

Malachi just turned and huffed at Miles who continued to stare, "Nice going lust bucket!"

---

A video feed proceeded to showcase the violent intricacies of the upcoming Elimination Chamber. The images of the monolith of steel, eighteen feet in height and thirty-six feet in diameter. At a staggering fourteen short tons, it is an imposing structure where in mere weeks, the Superstars and Bombshells of Sin City Wrestling would be putting it all on the line for this one shot at potential glory.

The camera then drew back, the shot widening and it is revealed that the viewer of this footage is none other than former Internet Champion, Helluva Bottom Carter. His dazzling eyes are foreboding and stern in a most uncharacteristic way, never leaving the flickering images on the screen until the footage finally draws to a close. Only then did Carter nod and slowly turn around, his back against the wall both literally as well as figuratively.

He clapped the palms of both hands together.

"Okay! So, now we come to our favorite part of the day. That part where all of you fine people tune in to hear whatever it is that I have to say about my opponent. Now I know some of you out there are going to support the other guy, while others have my back and will be cheering me on. And bless you for that - but first, before we get that far, there's another fork in the road that I want to take a little detour down. Same destination, different path if you will."

"When Mark Ward and Christian Underwood first announced the Elimination Chamber matches at Inception VII, I think you could hear the collective roofs over both locker rooms - men and women's - blow clear off the building. Not in anger mind you but in excitement because after twelve plus years, there was very little that we haven't done in Sin City Wrestling. Since 2011 when SCW first manifested and I myself was just eleven years old, the fans who watched from around the world saw everything from Hell In A Cell matches to the classic All In Bombshell Championship match! Exploding Barbed Wire Death matches to that bad ass Candy versus Sin Cinematic match! I mean, the sheer level of imagination from the bookers and match makers has been nothing short of phenomenal! And now, we are getting the Elimination Chamber! Both the Superstars and the Bombshells! But..."

Carter held up a forefinger and frowned.

"And trust me when I tell you that there is always a but... there seems to be a key difference in these matches between the men and the women and it seems to have caused a certain level of confusion. For the Bombshells, the Elimination Chamber is for the World Bombshell Championship. For us guys? It's for the Number One Contender spot for the World Heavyweight title."

Carter bit at his bottom lip and casually glanced in mock confusion from left to right. he held out his arms and shrugged his slim shoulders.

"Can you spot the difference? Do you see where I might be a bit confused? -Whereas the new World Champion Andrea Hernandez and Kayla Richards - who have unfinished business obvs, get automatic spots in their respective Chamber match, the unfinished business between the Heavyweight Champion Finn Whelan and Alex Jones is going to be settled seemingly in a one-on-one rematch. Just the two of them. My question is ... why? Is the fact that Finn - as of now - is only thirty days away from breaking J2H's record as the longest reigning champion in SCW history? So he likely is starting to have J2H-level stroke with the powers that be? Or do the match makers just think there's more money to be made with a rematch between Finn and Alex after the way their first match broke down?"

"Well, even if that is how they feel, I can't say as whether or not I agree or disagree. Because their first match for the gold at Inception VII was, to put it mildly, on fire! But we are talking about history being made here and the participants who have earned their way into the Chamber so far? We're talking about Eddie Lyons and, of course, my husband Miles Kasey?"

Carter cast a quick glance into the camera and winked.

"Love ya, Miles!"

Before he resumed his shoot.

"And this week things are no different, with more to come! I just think this match would mean even more if it were actually for the championship rather than just to see who is next in line. But that's just me, and Lord knows I'm not the passive aggressive type. So...! Let's just move on to the heart of the matter here tonight, shall we? And delve into the next step of my career. You see, I just so happened to lose my Internet Championship to Kevin Carter at Inception and as much as I would like to go out and tell the world that he stole it from me...?"

Carter clenched his teeth with a tight fist.

"I just can't! Because he didn't steal it. He won it, he earned it. And as bad a taste as this leaves in my mouth to admit, Kevin carter was the better man. But, did anyone else notice that his first title defense of the Internet Championship was not a rematch against the former champion? No, the former champion - me - was left standing on the sidelines while he put his title on the line against the Bulldog. I guess I can see the logic behind it. Barnhart gave Kevin such a fight in that match that had he given me my rematch, I probably would have walked away a two-time champion and most likely would have forfeited my spot in the Chamber. So perhaps Kevin Carter ducking me was his way of being... charitable?"

Carter wandered over and had a seat on the edge of an upright table and pondered this and then shook his head with a silent "Nah!".

"In a small way, this is almost better, as this gives me the chance to get my career back on the track. For months now I've had people asking me things like why am I not going after the World Championship more often? Accusing me of wasting all of the momentum that I had built for myself - especially after I got that upset win over Michael Harris. I've had some armchair experts tell me I wasted everything by not trying, or not trying harder. But the simple fact is that I did try. I did, and I bided my time and made my moves when I was ready. But the champions like Finn Whelan at the time, they were more ready than I was. Plus others were vying for the gold and I wasn't going to find myself in the legendary Jessie Salco mold where I made demands and challenges for championships at every turn. I had a great run as the Internet Champion and sooner or later, I'll get that belt back home where it belongs. But for now, the World title is in my sights and to get there, I have to get to that Elimination Chamber! And that means, I have to get past Connor Murphy."

Carter placed both hands on his knees and sat up straight, his gaze wide as he leaned back and breathed deeply.

"Connor Murphy. Not to crack age old jokes but I almost didn't recognize you when you returned to us. And not to be crass or anything, but when Mark and Christian announced a former Superstar was returning, I will be the first to admit that I got my hopes up. Maybe a little too high. Because when they said someone was coming back, my immediate hopes were for names like Ben Jordan, Fenris ... maybe even Austin James Mercer. But no, when the lights died down and the music hit ... it was you, Connor. And I have to admit that at that given moment, I felt a giant swell of... oh, what's the word I'm looking for? Disappointment, I guess. And I am not saying that to anger or belittle you, but it's just that they built this idea up to be something - or someone - major and you just... aren't. Not really."

"I mean, don't get me wrong. There was still a certain level of enthusiasm when you showed back up. Especially with Despayre at the GO Gym. He kept referring to you as the Gummy Bear Savior... whatever that means. But it's Despy so it obviously means something meaningful."

"But let's be honest for a second here, Connor. Before your big return, the last time you set foot inside of the ring was against J2H back in March of 2020. Almost a full five years ago. And before that? It was September of 2016 - against Dmitri. I could go on but do you see where I'm going with this? Even back then when I was just a know-it-all teenager, I knew well enough to know what my hopes and dreams were. I knew I wanted to be right where I am now, and I didn't let anything come between me and realizing those dreams. Not even the objections of my own loving family. But as a know-it-all teen, from the outside looking in? All I could think of when I turned in and watched you was that you wasted every chance the bosses gave you. It felt like you had virtually no commitment to this business. You would come back, have a match or two to make sure your name was still heard and remembered, and then would just go and piss off until you got bored enough to make another go of it. And Connor...? That just isn't cool."

"And it's not like you didn't have all the tools it took to be a success inside of the ring! I mean, you came from out of literally nowhere to tea, with Tim Staggs and beat the Guns For Hire for the World Tag titles! And you held them for almost two months. Kudos, bitches! But, for all the potential that you hold, that's still the pinnacle of your SCW career. A title reign that you had to share with a second generation star that used his daddy's name to get his foot in the door. You deserved better, Connor. You deserved more, but the simple fact of the matter is that you just never showed the initiative nor the interest. You would just come and go as you pleased and not show any interest in actually furthering not just your career but the careers of your peers! And really, what is the point of even being in this profession if you're not willing to give it your all, and be the very best?"

"And to be the very best, means you have to beat the very best! Which, as you might have guessed, means actually making the effort in becoming the best - the World Heavyweight Champion. That is why we are here, Connor, you and I. Now I don't know how these Qualifying matches were even determined. Whether they were luck of the draw or if there's a method to the madness. Maybe at some point my lack of enthusiasm for your return got back to the bosses and they decided to have some fun at my expense and put us up against one another. "

"Well, that's fine. I don't want you getting the wrong idea and thinking that I don't like you. I don't know you well enough to say whether or not I like you. I just find your lack of commitment to this business to be infuriating. And being put into this position to earn your way into the Chamber - insulting."

"Or am I wrong? And if so, prove it to me. I've broken bones, Connor. I've been hospitalized for injuries I suffered inside (and outside) of the ring. And all to prove my commitment to this business that I love and respect - and you profess to."

Carter stood up from the table and looked hard into the camera.

"I know compared to you, I am a relative rookie Connor. But I have been more true to this business in the past five years than you have your entire career. So before you decide to prove anything to the fans or to yourself...?"

He tapped a finger into his own chest.

"Prove it to me. And then we'll talk."

“A broken nose. That's just terrific.” Carter Kasey-McKinney grumbled as he struggled to slip his shirt back on over his head, still in the examination room of the hospital he had been brought to following the attack by Kevin Carter. The young man was obviously worse for wear, his body was freshly banged up, having not healed completely from the previous week's attack.

That, coupled with his nose covered in a special brace to keep the cartilage in place so it would heal properly, he was having a good deal of difficulty with a simple task. His husband, Miles, immediately stepped up. He sat down the paperwork the doctor had given him, complete prescription for painkillers.

Miles helped pull his shirt down the rest of the way and reached for his husband's jacket, all the while Carter looked absolutely miserable and said, “First Lazarus and now that jack off! Why do they always target my nose!?”

“Don't worry about that bastard “ Miles warned in his distinctive, British accent. “I'm going to fuck him up…”

“No.” Carter quickly said, catching his husband by surprise. “You're not.”

Miles shook his head in a quizzical manner, not understanding but Carter stressed, “You know I love it when you take charge and defend me. But Kevin targeted me for a reason so I'm handling this my way “

Carter gazed closely into Miles's eyes, “I have to.”

Prompting Miles to draw Carter into one of his famous hugs, “I understand.” He said. “I don't like it, but I understand. It's just a damn shame this shit show ruined our Christmas plans.”

Carter frowned from where he was being held and slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, separated from his husband's arms and shook his head. “What are you talking about?” He asked. “We're not canceling anything.”

Miles sighed, already knowing what was about to happen because of his husband's stubborn nature.

“Love,” Miles started to say. “You heard the doctor. You can't fly with a broken nose.”

“For 24 hours.” Carter corrected him. “She said I shouldn't for 24 hours minimum.”

“She also said that you shouldn't be flying at all.” Miles added on to the already convoluted logic between them. “So, we're not going to.”

“Miles….”

“Don't ‘Miles’ me!” Miles interrupted his husband before Carter could get going. “This isn't the time to get stubborn!....” Miles thought for a moment before adding, “More so than normal! I'm serious!”

“Alright, Miles!” Carter held his hands up in surrender. “Alright! You don't have to get so worked up! I know you have my best interests at heart!”

“Of course I do.” Miles stated.

Carter shrugged, “And I've always thought of you as something of the boss of the relationship.”

“Good.” Miles nodded.

“If you say we're not flying then we're not flying.”

“Okay, okay.” Miles said. “We're not flying.”

“We are too.” Carter said matter of factly as he marched right past Miles out of the examination room, grabbing his prescription along the way.

Miles stands there for a brief moment, trying to process what was just said and he shakes his head and quickly catches up to Carter, “Pardon? Is this not the same man that did nothing but give me nothing short of all the business when I cracked my ribs in that match a year and a half ago? I seem to recall you constantly watching over me after that hellacious match against Austin.”

“Yes, I did and I will still stand by the fact that us flying to China was absolutely pointless and it only delayed your healing even more by flying. But we’re not active over the next 2 weeks..”

“And we’re going to Seattle, right? So it’s not like we can’t drive...” Miles stops for a moment, “actually more like I drive.”

“What's wrong with my driving?”

“Love, just trust me, it's like a 17 hour trip and the weather hasn't been the best. Or better yet, I can get last minute plane tickets for your mum and Grams and they can join us....”

“Miles, we can't do that!”

“Why not!?”

“Because we're not going to Seattle!” And suddenly a hush of silence fell between the two. Miles just stared at his husband as Carter looked like a deer in headlights briefly until he closed his eyes and exhaled gently.

Miles shook his head, “What do you mean we're not going to Seattle?”

“Damn it…” Carter mumbled helplessly as he fished in his pocket to draw out his phone. Miles watched as Carter went about on his phone, searching for something. Until he found what he was looking for and turned his phone around, handing it to his husband.

Miles looked it over and with a look of realization dawning on his face, he looked up. “The tickets aren't for Seattle. They're for London.”

“Yeah.” Carter sighed. “We were never going to Seattle.”

Carter watches Miles take in all the details both on his phone as well as spoken. He continues, “I know it's been years since you spent a Christmas home in the UK. I've had this arranged since September. I rented a flat. Ms. Thang is going with us. Mom and Grams are on their way there now…”

“Really?” Miles looked up with a toothy dopey smile, to which Carter shrugged almost bashfully. He responded, “Why not? Most married couples take turns on holidays with which family to spend it with. I don't see any reason why we should restrict ourselves like that. We can just take turns on where.”

“So that’s why Brianna was giving me the bum's rush when I was trying to nail down details when I could call her and mum on Christmas day, she was fighting keeping the secret.”

“Which I thought for sure when you asked her that I was screwed at that point,” Carter laughed, “I know that the flight is gonna hurt but I don’t care. Not if that means I get you out of this funk you’ve been in. You’ve been very Grinch-like and considering how much I know you love Christmas, I’m more determined than ever to get us there.”

Miles cringes, “I haven’t been that bad, have I?”

“I’ve seen worse. Not completely Scrooged but you were teetering there for a bit.” Carter tilts his head, noticing Miles is having that emotional moment of ‘I so do not deserve him’, “So we’re flying?”

“I still think it’s absolutely insane because you are going to be in so much pain but, love...I cannot believe you did this. And not just us, but your mum and grams too?” Miles smiles, “I’d kiss you right now if I didn’t think it’d damage that beautiful face more.”

Carter just smiled as Miles snaked his arm around his waist to escort him through the automatic doors of the hospital and into the night sky. This Christmas was going to have so much potential.