This is Miles’ Heaven
Olympia, WA

Thanksgiving morning broke over Olympia in a soft gray glow, the kind that made the whole world feel wrapped in a wool blanket. The backyard smelled like damp cedar and cold air, until the grill came to life, and the first curl of heat shimmered upward.

Miles stood at the Weber Spirit E-310 gas grill like it was his personal altar.

He was wearing an apron that said “Kiss the Cook (But Only If You’re Married to Him)”, a gift from Carter last year, and one Miles wore with obnoxious pride. His hair was tied back, as much as he could with the curls battling. Carter told him a while ago he really could use a haircut. His sleeves rolled up, and the patio around him was a minefield of seasoning bowls, basting brushes, foil pans, and the massive turkey he’d prepped at dawn.

“Miles is in his element,” Kevin muttered to Ashlynn as they cracked open sodas on the steps.

Ashlynn smirked, "He’s like...glowing.”

“He always glows when he’s bossing fire around.” From the kitchen window, Carter leaned his elbows on the sill, chin propped on his hands, "Babe, how’s the bird?”

Miles didn’t even turn, he just lifted the lid of the grill with a flourish like he was performing for an audience. Smoke wafted up, fragrant and rich. The turkey, rubbed down in Miles’ secret blend of herbs and citrus, had already started to bronze.

“Look at her!” Miles declared proudly, "Look at that color! This is gonna be my masterpiece. They’re gonna write songs about this turkey.”

Grams shuffled up behind Carter, "If this meal doesn’t convert me to being thankful for your dramatic ass, nothing will.”

“Grams!” Miles called, "Have a little bit of faith in me!”

“I have faith,” Grams replied, tapping the window glass with her finger, "What I don’t have is patience, especially the way your brother is bugging me.”

Joanna slid in behind her, wiping her hands on a towel, "Mom, we promised him the turkey. We promised him the outdoor responsibility. Let the man have his triumph.”

“Thank you!” Miles said, pointing his basting brush at her like a wand, "Someone appreciates the culinary arts.”

Joanna kissed the top of Carter’s head and went back to the kitchen, leaving the two men visible through the glass.

Carter opened the back door and stepped out onto the patio, arms wrapped around himself against the cold, "You didn’t even have breakfast.”

“I don’t need breakfast,” Miles said cheerfully, rotating the tray, "I am breakfast. Besides, I had my coffee and that’s all I need right now.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You married this ridiculous.”

Carter walked down the steps and joined him, watching with that soft, private smile he only ever showed when it was just the two of them.

“You look happy,” Carter said quietly.

Miles shrugged, flipping the turkey with careful precision, "I love this. Cooking for family. Feeding people. Hearing Grams complain. Watching LJ eat like he hasn’t seen food in ten years. Kevin trying to steal the crispy skin before it’s ready. It’s... I dunno. Feels right.”

Carter leaned into him, "You make it feel like home.”

Miles let that settle in the cool air before nudging him with his shoulder, "You’re getting sappy.”

“You’re basting a turkey like you’re Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel.”

“And it’ll taste just as holy.”

From inside the house, LJ’s voice carried faintly through the walls, "WHEN IS FOOD?! I’m dyin in here!”

Grams’ voice followed immediately, "YOU’LL EAT WHEN MILES SAVES YOU FROM SALMONELLA!”

Miles grinned, shaking his head, "See? Perfect.”

Ashlynn came over with Kevin in tow, both holding their empty plates like beggars.

“How much longer?” she asked sweetly.

Miles arched his brow to them both, "Do you see a timer in my hand?”

“No...”

“Do you see panic in my eyes?”

“Um... no?”

“Then relax. I got this.”

Kevin leaned to Ashlynn and whispered, “This is how he asserts dominance.”

Miles scoffed, "I heard that. Go steal some marshmallows for me and maybe I’ll give you an update.”

Carter slipped his arm around Miles’ waist, "They’re excited. We all are. It smells insane.”

Miles finally closed the lid on the grill with ceremony, "One hour. Then greatness.”

Carter kissed his cheek, "We’ll be ready.”

And as the backyard filled with laughter, chatter, and the warm smell of roasting turkey, Miles stood guard over the grill like a king with his crown. Thanksgiving was in his hands now and everyone knew, from the look in his eyes, the confidence in his posture, and the reverent care he gave that Weber Spirit E-310, they were in very, very good hands.

--------

This is Miles’ Hell
Still Olympia....Next Morning....STUPID EARLY!

Black Friday morning hit Olympia like a slap. It was cold, dark and completely unreasonable to any SANE person. And full of Carter, Ally, Ashlynn, Joanna and Joan standing over three half-coherent men like a firing squad of cheerful demons.

Miles opened one eye and immediately regretted it, "No. No, absolutely not. I reject this timeline.”

“You agreed to this last night,” Carter said, already dressed, hair perfect, scarf draped like an ad campaign, "You said and I quote ‘Black Friday is tradition.’”

“In my defense,” Miles mumbled into his pillow, “I was warm, slightly inebriated and stupid.”

LJ groaned from across the room, "It’s not even light out.”

“It’s Black Friday,” Ally said, "The sun doesn’t get a say.”

And Kevin, poor Kevin, looked like he was questioning every major life decision that brought him to this moment.

Joanna clapped her hands, "UP! All of you! We have stores to conquer!”

Grams smirked behind her, "If you survive, the hot cocoa is on me.”

That was not reassuring.

By 6:15 a.m., they were inside the mall with thousands of other sleep-deprived lunatics.

Joanna, Joan, Ally, Carter, and Ashlynn moved with terrifying precision, splitting off like a well-trained tactical unit. Meanwhile, two men and one teenager lagged behind.

Kevin whispered, “How...how do they walk like that? They didn’t even look at a map.”

“They don’t need maps,” Miles said gravely, "They smell sales. Like sharks smell blood.”

LJ nodded solemnly, "I swear it’s like they evolve for this.”

Miles was, however, prepared this year. He unveiled his backpack like it was a survival kit, "Okay, I have snacks, protein bars, gummy bears, two energy drinks, hand warmers, four granola bars for emergencies, a foldable phone charger, and a playlist called ‘Suffering But Make It Festive.’”

Kevin blinked, "Why are you...like this?”

“Experience,” Carter answered for him, already sipping the peppermint latte Miles bought him, "You should’ve seen him two years ago. Better known as the Great Target Incident.”

LJ shuddered like a man haunted, "Oh I heard about that one.”

Miles shot back with a warning look, “We don’t talk about it.”

An hour in, Kevin looked like someone had unplugged his soul. People all around them shoved at each other like rabid animals trying to get the last bit of meat. Someone screamed about half-price AirPods. A toddler threw a shoe with demonic accuracy. And Christmas music blasted from every direction.

Kevin rubbed his temples, "I didn’t... I didn’t know this was real. I thought people exaggerated.”

Miles handed him a Snickers like he was warding off a curse, "Eat this before you start seeing visions.”

Kevin took it numbly. They sat on a bench outside a shoe store, part of the mall traffic swirling around them.

Miles scrolled through his phone lazily, "So... how’s it going? Holding up?”

Kevin sighed, "I think I saw a woman threaten an old man over a scarf.”

That brought a snort of a laugh from Miles, “That tracks.”

After a bit Carter rejoined Miles and put down a few bags that looked expensive but Miles wasn’t about to pry yet, "I think I’m about halfway done.”

“Halfway and in need of a refill of coffee?”

“Perhaps...I could be persuaded. Mine is stone cold anyways.” Carter smirked.

Kevin hesitated for a long moment. Then he stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans, "Hey, uh... Miles?”

“Yeah mate?”

“Do you... maybe... have some money I could borrow?” Kevin’s voice was small, uneasy, "I saw something. Like... something I might want to get for someone.”

Miles raised an eyebrow, amused, "Oh? Someone?”

Kevin shifted, clearing his throat, "Well. Yeah.”

LJ perked up instantly, "OOOOH? Who?”

Kevin glared towards the younger Kasey and just couldn’t stop himself, "Shut up.”

Miles leaned back, arms crossed, "Kev, if you want cash, you gotta tell me who it’s for. That’s how this works. It is after all a family tradition.”

“No, it’s not,” Kevin muttered.

“It is now,” Miles said cheerfully.

Kevin groaned, cheeks warming. He kicked at the floor once, stalling, "It’s for... uh... Connor.”

Miles blinked. LJ’s eyebrows shot up like rockets, "CONNOR?! BRO. BROOOO.”

Miles slowly grinned, and to stop the boy from killing his brother he piped in, “As in... that Connor? Your Connor?”

Kevin covered his face with both hands, "Please don’t make it weird. It’s just a little gift. He likes knives and throwing axes and all that badass stuff and I saw this custom leather wrist cuff thingy and I thought he might... y’know... maybe... like it.”

Miles and LJ exchanged a look as Carter’s lips curved in a knowing smirk.

Miles beamed, "Kev... that’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable,” Kevin snapped, mortified, "It’s practical and it looks cool.”

LJ nudged him, "So you like him.”

Kevin’s ears went red, "I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Miles said, handing him a folded fifty, "Go get the boy the cuff.”

Kevin hesitated, then took the bill with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Miles said, "But I do want to hear all about this later.”

Kevin groaned again, but he was already walking toward the kiosk, trying not to look like he was floating.

Carter smirked, leaning into Miles, "Look at you. Being a responsible guardian and everything.”

Miles shrugged, "I mean... It's Black Friday. If love isn’t going to blossom here, where will it?”

LJ snorted, "This mall really is hell.”

But Miles just grinned, watching Kevin hover over the bracelets with shy purpose, "Nah,” he said softly, "Sometimes hell’s where the good stories start.”

--------

Miles Utopia
Heart to Heart in the Dark

Night settled over Olympia like a heavy blanket, quiet and cold and still—nothing like the chaos of the mall or the shrieking frenzy of shoppers trying to tear one another apart over televisions. By the time the family returned to the house on the lake, everyone else had crashed—Kevin passed out on the couch mid–hot cocoa, LJ starfished across the guest bed, Ally curled next to him, Ashlynn in a cocoon of blankets on the floor. Even Joanna and Joan turned in early, leaving the house humming with that rare, peaceful silence that only comes after a long day of forced socializing.

Except for Miles.

The sliding door off the kitchen stood cracked open, letting out a narrow slip of warm air into the freezing dark. Outside, the lake stretched like a black mirror, swallowing the moon whole. A few houses across the water still had their twinkling lights on, blurry in the reflection. The firepit near the dock was lit, embers pulsing like a lazy heartbeat.

Miles sat on one of the Adirondack chairs, boots planted in the gravel, a blanket draped over the back of his shoulders. He wasn’t drunk, he rarely let himself these days, but the whiskey in his hand had softened the edges, not blurred them. Just enough to clarify things.

Because clarity was what he needed.

He breathed out a cloud of steam and watched it dissipate.

For once, he wasn’t the loud one. He wasn’t the excitable one. He wasn’t Carter’s sunshine or LJ’s rock or Kevin’s mentor or the chaos wrangler of Black Friday. He was just Miles, quiet, listening to the lake lap against the dock, listening to the fire pop, listening to every single fucking thing in his head that he’d been avoiding.

Footsteps creaked softly across the deck. Carter didn’t announce himself, didn’t make a sound except for the crunch of gravel as he approached; Miles didn’t have to look to know it was him. He simply tilted his glass in greeting.

“You okay out here?” Carter asked, voice low, careful.

Miles chuckled, though there was no humor in it, "Define ‘okay.’”

Carter eased into the chair beside him, tugging his coat closer, "The house is quiet without you.” A beat, "You disappeared before I got out of the shower.”

“I just needed some air, love. It’s nice to get out here and be able to breathe a bit.”

“Mmhmm.” Carter’s tone shifted, gentle, but probing, "Needed space?”

Miles finally glanced over. Carter wasn’t pushing. He never did when it came to him but he could read Miles like scripture. He sighed, "Something like that.”

They sat without speaking for a minute. The fire crackled. Somewhere far off, an owl hooted. A perfect slice of peace, but Miles’ shoulders remained tight, his jaw clenched.

Carter nudged him, "Babe, talk to me.”

Miles swirled the amber liquid in his glass, "It’s... a lot.”

“Then pour it out.”

Miles exhaled, long and slow, "Do you ever feel like everyone’s got an opinion about you? Like your career belongs to the group chat?”

Carter blinked at the sudden shift, but he didn’t comment. He let Miles continue.

“Alex Jones. Aiden Reynolds.” Miles scoffed, shaking his head, "Guys who haven’t taken a moment to know me for over a year since I did what I did to Finn....and somehow they’re experts in where I should be on the roster.”

Carter’s eyes sharpened, "Ah.”

“There it is,” Miles muttered, taking a sip from his tumbler, “You’ve heard it too.”

“I’ve heard noise but then again it’s been Alex and Aiden in my last two major defenses,” Carter corrected, "But I don’t really listen to noise.”

“Well, I try not to. But lately?” He dragged a hand through his curls, "I’m hearing it whether I want to or not.” His voice dropped, heavy, "‘Miles should be higher up on the card.’ ‘Miles should be chasing bigger things.’ ‘Miles won’t get his chance because the World Champion is his husband.’”

Carter stiffened, not offended, but wounded on his behalf.

Miles continued before Carter could speak, "And it pisses me off, Car. Because they talk like I don’t love what I’m doing. Like I’m... settling.” He looked at his championship lying beside the chair, glinting faintly in the firelight, "That title? The SCW Internet Championship? This division? This was my climb. My fucking mountain and instead of enjoying what I’ve earned, I’ve got people telling me I should be...” he waved a hand vaguely, “...more.”

Carter leaned forward, "You don’t owe them more.”

“That’s the thing,” Miles whispered, "I don’t want ‘more.’ I want this. I like being the guy people underestimate. I like being the champion people think they can beat. I like elevating the title that elevated me.”

Carter’s voice softened, "Then do that.”

Miles laughed bitterly, "Tell that to Wolfslair.”

Carter’s jaw flexed, "I have and I will again if I have to. But maybe it’s their way of getting your attention, like they are pushing to see just how hard you’ll push back.”

“Maybe. And I think that you are getting somewhere,” Miles looked back at the lake, "And now Ryan Keys is getting another shot.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "And honestly? Thank God. That kid deserves it. He caught me off guard at High Stakes, nearly beat me and I told him, ‘Run it back. Anytime’ Because that’s what this division is supposed to be. Fresh faces. Second chances. No politics.” He lifted his glass slightly, "It’s the one place in this company where your name doesn’t matter. What you do does.”

Carter rested his hand on Miles’ arm, "And that’s why you’re the perfect champion for it.”

Miles swallowed hard, "But now we both know how the other fights. There’s no surprise this time. No shock factor. And I know that he’s coming for blood.” His voice steadied, steel threading through it, "And I want him to. I want him to bring everything he’s got. Because if Ryan Keys wants this title? If he wants my division? Then he’d better be ready to climb higher, hit harder, push deeper than he ever has before.” He set his glass down, "Because I’m not rolling over for anyone for belly scratches. Not Keys, most certainly not Wolfslair. Not any of the fucking peanut gallery.”

Carter smirked despite himself, "There’s my wolf.”

“As much as I appreciate that love....No,” Miles corrected, eyes burning with conviction, "I’m not their wolf. I’m not anyone’s anything. I’m the Internet Champion because I fought for it, because I earned it and Sunday in Tempe? I’m gonna remind every single person running their mouths why they were dead wrong about me.”

Carter squeezed his hand, their wedding rings clinking softly in the quiet.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

Miles looked at him then, really looked at him. The man he loved. The man who believed in him even before he believed in himself. The World Champion who didn’t cast a shadow, he lit a path that very few had the guts to take.

“I know,” Miles whispered, "I just wish more people said that instead of telling me what I should be.”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need.”

Miles smiled, small and tired but real, "You already do.”

They went quiet again, but it wasn’t heavy this time. Not tense. Just two men sitting by a fire, the lake breathing out cold mist, the world slow and soft around them.

Carter leaned his head on Miles’ shoulder, "Are you done spiraling for tonight?”

Miles chuckled, "Maybe.”

“You want to come inside?”

“I will...In a minute.”

Carter kissed his cheek and rose, brushing ash from his jeans, "Don’t fall into the lake.”

“No promises.”

Carter smiled and walked back up toward the house, leaving Miles with the fire, the cold, and his thoughts, sharper now. Hell even clearer through the whiskey haze.

Because the call wasn’t coming from inside the house. It was coming from him and he was done letting anyone else narrate his story.

The fire had burned down low, embers glowing like a bed of red-hot stars beneath the blackened logs. Miles stood now instead of sitting, both hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, breath curling white into the cold lake air. He stared across the still water as if Ryan Keys might rise out of it like some mythic creature.

Then he spoke—not loudly, not theatrically. Just steady. Direct. The tone of a man who finally knows exactly what he wants to say.

“Ryan... you ever notice how quiet things get the night before a fight?”

His voice carried in the empty dark, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire.

“It’s funny. You’d think holding a title would make the world louder. Everyone’s got something to say....ALWAYS and I’ve learned that lately. Half the roster thinks they know what I should be doing. Where I should be. What kind of champion I should turn myself into to fit their narratives.”

A humorless laugh escaped him.

“But you? You don’t talk like them. You don’t walk like them. You don’t carry yourself like a guy trying to convince the world you belong. You just... try to earn it.”

Miles stepped closer to the firepit, letting the glow hit his face, casting sharp light and darker shadows across his features.

“And that’s why we’re here again.”

He looked down at the flames.

“High Stakes... you caught me. Flat-footed. In fact you want the honest truth? You dragged something out of me that I didn’t even realize I’d let fall asleep. That match made me wake the hell up. People forget that the Internet Title isn’t just a stepping stone or some shiny toy to throw around on opening cards. It’s a test. A very bright spotlight that is placed on you like it’s blaring through a magnifying glass. A place where people get to find out who the hell they are before the machine chews them up.”

He pointed toward the lake like he was pointing through the camera, through the world, straight into Ryan’s chest.

“And that night? You proved you’re not some party-boy goof-off with a playlist and a dream. You pushed me, not because you’re the next big thing, not because the company wants to slap a rocket on you, but because you fight like someone who wants this. I mean really wants it.”

Miles took a deep breath, pacing slowly along the dock. The water below rippled with each footstep.

“But now you and I have a problem, mate.”

He stopped at the edge, the lake black and bottomless beneath him.

“You aren’t catching me off-guard this time.”

Another long exhale.

“You know how I move now, how I think, what hurts, what doesn’t. But the best part of this is I know yours. I know your rhythm. I’ve seen your habits. I got your tells in the memory banks. I know the way your shoulders tighten right before you fire off that kick. I know the way you stall half a second too long before the frog splash.”

His expression hardened, not anger, not arrogance. Just focus.

“This time... we’re equals walking in. There are no surprises and zero blind spots. Just you, me, and a championship that forces people to either evolve...” he snapped his fingers, “....or drown.”

A breeze swept off the lake and pushed through his curls. He didn’t flinch.

“You want the Internet Title? Then you better be ready to raise hell. Bring something new. Hit me harder. Because if you walk into Tempe hoping for another stroke of luck or a quick moment of spark to steal this belt off me...”

He tapped the title on the chair behind him without looking back.

“...you’re not ready.”

Miles leaned his weight onto the railing of the dock, eyes narrowing.

“But if you learned from High Stakes? If you took that almost-win and turned it into fuel? If you’re coming in knowing this may be the closest you get to rewriting the entire trajectory of your career?”

A small smile crept across his lips.

“Then good.”

He looked right into the night.

“Because I want the best version of you standing across from me. I want to see if you really can step up. I want the challenge and the best thing of all, I want to walk out of Tempe knowing that the only reason I’m still champion is because I was the better man that night, not because you slipped, not because you hesitated, but because I earned it.”

He straightened, the fire reflecting in his eyes like twin sparks.

“That’s what this title is supposed to be, Ryan. It’s not politics nor the chatter. Not what people think I should be doing or where they think I should be going.”

His voice dropped to a near growl.

“It’s about the fight.”

He grabbed the championship finally, lifting it onto his shoulder with practiced ease.

“So come fight me. Come make me work for it. Come prove that this....” he tapped the center plate, “....means just as much to you as it does to me. Because the Internet Division isn’t a playground. It isn’t a shortcut and it damn sure isn’t an afterthought.”

He took one step back, framed by flames and the endless dark of the lake.

“It’s my division.”

Another step.

“My title.”

One final breath, steady and sure.

“And on Sunday, Ryan Keys...I dare you to try and take it from me.”

He turned, heading back up toward the house, the fire crackling behind him.

“Let’s run it back.”

While Cassie ultimately lost the Triple Threat at High Stakes when Bella pinned Bea (after hitting Cassie’s Coronation Finisher on Bella no less) she still remained unpinned but she was far from done, vowing in a New Year’s Resolution to win her first championship before next year’s High Stakes! However her next match could very well advance those plans as Young Justice were taking on Fire and Fury in this week’s Main Event, also known as Mercedes Vargas and the World Bombshell Champion Crystal Zdunich who had closed out High Stakes by taking the gold from Frankie Holiday! Can Young Justice get the win?

Harper’s Loft, Las Vegas, Nevada
Wednesday the 26th of November 2025, 18:00pm

I’m about to disappoint a lot of people who were angry at me for the tweets that got me booked for High Stakes a few weeks ago.

You see, I don’t regret saying what I said about Candy because I was the only one speaking the truth and standing up for me, I don’t care if Candy is a former champion, she hasn’t been relevant in five years and barely anyone remembers her Roulette Title Reign to begin with!

I mean, granted, said reign happened when a certain pandemic brought the whole world to a screeching halt but that didn’t stop other people from making an impact!

So yeah, seeing her get wrecked by Amelia Reynolds and Frankie Holiday in consecutive matches was cathartic as hell because it proved me right!

Anyway, speaking of Frankie Holiday? My next match will see my take on the woman who dethroned her for the World Bombshell Championship at High Stakes in Crystal Zdunich and she won’t be alone because it’s a tag match between me and Harper and Crystal and Mercedes.

Why yes, this is a match from before Violent Conduct, why do you ask?

”I don’t care what anyone says.” I commented to Harper as she checked twitter on her phone and she glanced up, our training sessions had wrapped up a couple of hours ago and we were using that as an excuse to hang out for a bit. ”Especially when Christian is involved, I did what I had too to get on the High Stakes card and the rest of the roster were too blind to see it.”

”You’re still going on about that?!” Harper asked as she shook her head. ”Jesus Christ Cass, let it go already! You got on the High Stakes card, you didn’t get pinned! That’s more than most people can say! My Bombshell Internet Title opportunity got ruined by Victoria and I got revenge by ruining her celebration!”

”Bella stole my finisher AND did it badly I might add to teach me a lesson while Christian’s head remains so far up his own ass that he could French Kiss his small intestines!” I retorted as I rolled my eyes and Harper shook her head. ”And for what? The fact that I pointed out what many too blind to see about a supposed “beloved” wrestler? That was a fucking joke and the fact that Candy choked in her last two matches proved me right!”

”Which of course, ignores the fact that Frankie went way overboard to send a message.” Harper responded as she shook her head. ”Look, we’ve got that tag team match on Sunday against Mercedes and Crystal, can you at least focus on that?” Harper asked before taking a sip of her drink.

”Oh I am! For one thing Sparky and Butt Plug are actually doing something with their legacies rather than coax off a reign that no one cares about!” I added and, well, Harper nearly spat out her drink. ”What?”

”Sparky and Butt Plug? Jesus Christ Cass, I thought me calling them the Golden Shower Girls was bad!” Harper laughed before setting down her drink. ”And do I even want to know which one is butt plug?!”

”You can relax on that front because I’m not sure myself.” I shrugged my shoulders in response and Harper shook her head. ”Either that or I’m trying not to think about it and as the lesbian half of this partnership? That’s saying something!”

”You realize that could be construed as evidence that we’re dating, right?” Harper pointed out and I shook my head.

”Oh please Harp!” I responded as I shifted my weight.  ”If we were dating you’d have bragged about it from the moment we brought the Young Justice team into SCW!”

”Yeah, I can’t deny that!” Harper admitted as she shook her head. ”Anyway, any plans for Thanksgiving?”

”I’m Australian remember? I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.” I reminded Harper and she nodded. ”Of course, Josh does and he won’t be around to help me train so I’m probably just gonna game.”

”Yeah, that’s fair.” Harper admitted before the conversation drifted off.

Josh’s gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Friday the 28th of the November 2025, 11:00am

After a pretty uneventful Thanksgiving for me (because again, it was just a regular day for me and since no one really does Black Friday these days me and Harper were spending the day training, Harper over at Jessie’s gym (and this is after she spent Thanksgiving at her house Harper’s definitely working off the Thanksgiving calories) and I’m at Josh’s gym.

“I hope you’ve calmed down since High Stakes Cass.” Josh commented and I rolled my eyes in response. “I had to do a lot of smoothing over with the bosses after that stunt.”

”You call it a stunt, I call it me doing what you should’ve done as my manager.” I responded as I shook my head. ”Which I off course mean advocating for myself!”

“I know but you pissed off most of the roster.” Josh responded and I rolled my eyes. “You did piss them off Cassie.”

”Then they need better back bones if they get bent out of shape for Candy of all people.” I scoffed as I rolled my eyes. ”At least with my match with Harper against Chrystal and Mercedes I’m facing someone who makes good on their fucking legacies even if most of their wins are bullshit!”

“Maybe but as your manager? That incident made my life very difficult.” Josh responded as he shook his head. “And I was just inducted into the Hall of Fame!”

”Cry me a river.” I responded before rolling into the ring. ”I did what was right for me while you were content to leave me with no Supercard matches for two Supercards in a row! Maybe you should try doing your damn job as my manager sometime!”

“We’ll talk about that later, for now focus on your training.” Josh instructed me and I nodded before doing just that.

Cassie’s Promo Room, Las Vegas, Nevada
Friday the 28th of November 2025, 21:00pm

*promo time*

Yeah, I don’t think I need to sat that I have a lot on my mind heading into this one.

”Tell me, what are you expecting me to say now that High Stakes has come and gone?” I asked as I folded my arms while pacing. ”If you’re expecting something like “oh I’m sorry I called out the bosses on their bullshit and exposed certain members of the roster as spineless cowards who’d rather tow the line” forget it! I said what needed to be said.

And by the way Bella? Your version of The Coronation SUCKS!” I added as I flipped some hair over my shoulder. ”But unlike a certain bubbly idiot my next opponents are actually doing something with their legacy, hell one of them won the World Bombshell Championship at High Stakes and trust me, me and Harper are planning to use this match to get back in the saddle as we take on Fire and Fury in this week’s Main Event!”

This will be good.

”That’s right, the now former Bombshell Internet Champion and the new World Bombshell Champion Crystal Zdunich, or as I like to call them, Sparky and Butt Plug!” I added as I leaned back against the wall. ”Don’t ask which is which! And as far as I’m concerned, this is yet another match where I’m in a match with a former and current World Bombshell Champion on the second show of the cycle after my previous matches against Frankie Holiday and Andrea Hernandez!

Only you know, it’s at the same time this time, I’ve got Harper backing me up and, of course, Crystal’s title isn’t at stake!” I added fore shaking my head. ”This isn’t the first time we’ve faced off and hell, Mercedes owes her whole reign to a fluke win over me but I guess we’re still not ready for that conversation yet!”

I shook my head.

”To make a long story short? I’m sick of being overlooked, missing Violent Conduct was bad enough but almost missing my second High Stakes and getting criticized because  I decided “fuck being quiet” and called out someone who didn’t deserve her spot? Yeah, that still has me pissed off.” I added as I shook my head. ”Mercedes and Crystal might be in the middle of a career resurgence but all I see are two old bitches for me to take my frustration out on!”

It’s that simple.

”Yes I know Crystal’s the top champ, frankly? I don’t care.” I added as I flipped some hair over my shoulder. ”What I care about in ensuring that I will never be overlooked in SCW again by making myself undeniable! I don’t care how many bridges I have to burn along the way because sooner or later? The nice girl is going to fucking snap!”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”And while I’m not quite there yet? I’m damn close to the edge because of all the shit I’ve put up with since High Stakes!” I added as I shook my head. ”And this Sunday? Me and Harper will show Mercedes and Crystal just how hungry we are! To all my fans? In a world of fake queens and nice girls getting sick of being overlooked? Be yourselves and be a Rebel Princess! And as for Fire and Fury? Young Justice will prevail because justice will be served by “The Rebel Princess” Cassie Wolfe and “The Slaytanic Avenger” Haper Mason!”

I turned off my camera as the scene fades.

“You know rockstar, things are easier if you just go with the flow. Life ain’t such a downer when you just… let go.” James’ voice echoed through his head. Bounced around in his skull. Trapped in this place, it was a torture beyond all other.

The room was different now. More painful, more a prison. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe. Chains and locks held him in place. Chains expanding into an unknown abyss beyond, holding his arms in the air. Forced to kneel, his head held upright by a collar around his throat. The chain extended behind him, holding his head back. This was probably the most egregious the punishment had been. The most painful of it all.

The worst part of it all was the voices. The people he knew, the people he loved. The people he couldn’t save. The people he would always miss. James, Lauren, even Leon. As much as he hated him, as much as detested him. Leon was someone he once loved, despite it all. Leon meant the world to him at one point in time. Part of him wondered if all of this was just his due time. A true punishment by karma in the collapse of his mind. A journey through his own madness, with no light at the end of the tunnel.

“The past catches up to us rockstar. You can’t escape it daddy. It always catches us up in the end. It's time to let it go, Alex. You can’t keep this up forever.” James' voice whispers through the void, filling his skull. Scraping down the back of his eyes, piercing through his skin. Every inch of him was trapped in the sounds of ghosts.

Whimpering, Alex could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He was breaking, and he couldn’t stop it anymore. He was slowly falling into the abyss of his own mind, and that terrified him. Terrified him that he would lose everything he was. Lose everything he’d ever been to his own mind. To his own soul. He’d lose himself and everyone he had ever loved, ever lost. Everyone would simply forget about who he once was. The man, the shell, he would leave behind would be the last imprint he left on the world. A world that would never truly understand him.

“Ravey boy, how ya been? Miss me? You didn’t even know I was dead, brother. I mean, I get it. I put it in both your pretty little pieces. You just keep marrying women who want me more, don’t you? Do you remember it? I do. I remember the look on your face. I guess I’d have been pretty upset too. What made it worse? The fact it was both of us? Or the fact that she didn’t even try to stop?” Leon’s voice.

People often talked about forgetting someone’s voice. As time went by, they were afraid of forgetting what someone sounded like. How they dreaded the day that their voicemail was full, or they lost the last video they had of someone. To forget how it sounded. Alex spent every day wishing he could forget Leon’s voice. It was the one voice he knew he never would. The spite, the foulness of it. The mocking tone that laced every single one of his words. He didn’t even know why Leon did it all to him.

Was it a power play? Was it simply because he could? The more he thought about the less sure he was. He didn’t know why Leon seemed to have this hatred for him. Why he clawed at every bit of happiness he ever seemed to have. Why did he feel the need to take everything from him? Considering how it all ended for him, maybe it was because he was so deeply unhappy himself. Alex was still here, suffering through it all. Leon had taken his own life. Despite it all, Alex had had his happiness. He was… happy, right?

The more he thought about the less certain he was.

“Maybe you need a reminder. Of walking in, seeing her impaled upon me. Seeing the bliss and joy in her face. The lack of remorse. Let us relive it, shall we, Alexander?” Leon’s voice whispered through the world around him. Forming colours, images, shapes. Forming a memory. A memory he didn’t want to remember. A night he wished he could just forget forever. Another moment in time of agony.

He was forced to watch himself, watch from the side. Watch as he walks down that hallway. That hallways that seemed far too long. He’d been so good that night. He’d been so happy. He went looking for Luna. Went looking for his girlfriend. They’d been young, they’d been stupid. Alcohol and drugs were their day to day. He’d already achieved more success in the ring than either Leon or James ever had, or ever would. Talented, athletic. Higher tolerance for pain. Better understanding of the ring and technique. That was what he thought anyway. Truthfully, James was always better than he was. Leon was a much better wrestler. James was the all round star. The fact that Alex had been a multi time world champion.

It was just dumb luck.

Maybe it was all just Leon’s way of spitting at the universe. Spitting on the man who was living the life that should have always been his. He wasn’t sure, he never would know for sure. But right now, he would do anything to stop himself from seeing what was to come next. To stop himself from seeing that which was in front of him.

“Stop it. Stop it right now.” Alex begged, struggling against his bindings. A burst of energy. The chains rattled, the collar around his throat gagging him as he bucked and pulled. Trying to break free. Trying to stop himself from seeing it. His eyes clenched shut. His body is rolling. His muscles are contracting and convulsing. He could feel hands on his shoulders. Hands shaking him. A distant voice. A voice begging him to wake up.

And then he did, sitting bolt upright with a scream. A primal roar of fear. Of pain, of agony. Of decay. Luna’s hands on his shoulders, one of her arms wrapped around the back of him.Her eyes wide with fear. In terror. In sympathy. He was clearly having a nightmare. Or at least, that is what she would have thought. The truth was he would have had to be asleep to be having a nightmare. He didn’t really sleep anymore. He just sort of drifted in between states of awareness or not. When his mind let him be free and when it imprisoned me.

The cold sweats, the fear. It boiled over him, but not because of a night terror. Not because of a bad dream that he couldn’t escape. It was a reality that he couldn’t escape. In bed with the woman at the centre of one of the worst nights of his life, and she was here. Part of him wondered if he’d forgiven in a way she shouldn’t. To be married to her was a painful reminder every day of the things he wished he could forget. That never happened.

That was just the delirium talking. He’d truly come to terms with it. There were just days where it all seemed to just… slip away from him. Days like these. Nights like these. Nights where she held him in fear of the agony he experienced in his state of not sleeping. Where he floated in a void of his own making. A prison of his own destruction.

“Bad dream. Sorry.” Alex said softly, leaning over into her. Resting his head on her chest. A moment of reprieve. Of warmth and happiness. Of peace. He just wished it would be like this all the time. He couldn’t quite shake the image of the hallway. Of the door at the end of it. Knowing exactly what he would see when he opened it. If he opened it. Knowing what the two people on the other side would be doing. Who they would be. It was…

Maddening.

---

“Shortcomings. They are a regular facet of life. I’m not one to shy away from them. I’m not one to pretend that things out of our control can happen. I lost to Aiden, I lost to Alex. These things happened, these things are absolutes. I know what losing is, because I have to. I have to know how it feels to hit rock bottom. Because only in knowing failure can we truly know success. Can we truly know what it takes to get there.”

“I don’t harbor resentment for my failings, that would be stupid. It would stupid to rest on them, to assume that the failure of one night can instantly undo the success of others. I beat Aiden multiple times, and now he’s better. Alex Jones has been world champion multiple times, and now he is better. Carter himself has been at the bottom of the barrel time and time again, and now. Now he stands at the peak. The champion of Sin City. The World's Heavyweight champion. Failure breeds success and any who refuses to see that?”

“Complete losers.”

“I have made my career on doing things that people haven’t thought possible. Crushing the skull of Alexander Remington. Coming back and doing this again after being set on fire and near having my brains sprayed out across the canvas. In Puerto Rico I piledrove a man through a skylight, cut my arm near down to the bone. I’ve bleed, I’ve burnt, I’ve struggled. I’ve nearly killed men in that ring, and nearly killed myself. All in the pursuit of being better tomorrow than I was today.”

“So imagine my surprise when little Carter gave in to my demands. In hopes of shutting me up. I know the comfort that would come from being able to put me in the rear-view mirror. An offer he couldn’t refuse truly. To be free of the blight of Alexander Raven. So that he no longer has to deal with the ever present dread of being tracked down by me. So that his family will be safe from me. That Miles will be safe from the pain I will inflict. That his precious little championship will be safely wrapped around his waist.”

“A steel clad little outcome for him. Yet, I have to wonder. Did you even think about the offer on the table, Carter? I win, I get my shot. That’s the poignant part. I just have to win. Something I know you think I can’t do. You think I’m a loser. You think that this will just absolve you of your transgressions. That you will be free to do as you please. To be the champion you want to be. I am a man backed into a corner. An animal caged and afraid. Afraid of the mean and stabby implements of the captors. The dangerous hands that feed and beat.”

“I will beat you, Carter. That is a given. I need to beat you. I need to and will. By any means necessary. See that’s the fault here for you. I don’t care about doing this clean. I don’t care about doing this right. I don’t care about fairness and the rightness. I will win, and I will do it by any fucking means necessary. I will ensure that I do it my way. I’m going to hurt you Carter. That’s the simple fact. I’m going to hurt you, I’m going to embarrass you. Then you’re going to know that no matter what you do. No matter how hard you try. The world is coming to an end for you. Every pretty little thing you’ve surrounded yourself with. Every pretty little part is going to collapse on you.”

“I’m going to take the championship. I’m going to hurt Miles. I’m going to hurt everyone you love, because you. You had the audacity to pretend to be my wife’s friend. You had the audacity to pretend that you cared. When she finally needed someone to listen. To hear what she was saying. You feigned ignorance, you feigned surprise. We screamed for weeks that our friend, her brother, was dead. She finally broke and called you all out on it. You pretended that you didn’t know. That you were surprised.”

“Despicable.”

“This isn’t a game for me, Carter. This is about punishment. Punishment for your sins. For your narcissism. For your blindness. This is about ensuring you learn what happens to those who do not see the truth. You are going to suffer. I will make sure of it. I’ve got plenty more to say to you, Carter. But for now, I’ll let the world show what it needs to. I’ll let things settle as they need to settle. I will beat you, and then when you are faced with the reality. Know this. The ending? It’s going to be a bloody and brutal affair. I’m going to get everything I want. I will beat you. I’ll get them to sign off on another stupid idea, thinking they’ll give you the advantage. Maybe I’ll offer an out. I beat Miles, I pick the stipulation. Miles beats me, you get away from not having to face Alexander Raven.”

“I like making deals, Carter. It's a fun little game of cat and mouse. It raises the stakes. In this place of Sin City, why wouldn’t a little gamble be on the table? But that’s for another day. Another time. Another place. I’ll beat you, and then we can finally get down to business. So that when you’re laying in a pool of your own blood at the end of the year. When you’re laying in a place of decay, and pain. When everything you love is taken away, you will understand what it is that you feigned ignorance of. You will know loss, Carter.”

“Count your days. Time is coming.”