Lost it All
Little Mermaid Statue
Copenhagen, Denmark

The sun had only just begun to slip beneath the horizon, casting a golden shimmer across the calm waters of Copenhagen’s harbor. The air was crisp but not cold, tinged with the briny scent of the sea and the faint aroma of roasted almonds from a nearby vendor cart. There was a quiet magic to the moment, a stillness that seemed to wrap itself around the city as if Copenhagen itself were holding its breath.

Standing near the edge of the promenade, Alexandra tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the Little Mermaid statue just a few feet away. The bronze figure sat perched on her rock with eternal grace, her expression equal parts wistful and serene. Waves lapped softly at the stone base, and for a moment, Alexandra didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. Some moments spoke louder in silence.

LJ stepped up beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He followed her gaze, studying the sculpture as if trying to read its thoughts. “You know,” he said eventually, his voice low and thoughtful, “I used to think that thing was a lot bigger.”

Alexandra let out a soft snort, her lips quirking into a smirk. “You and everybody else who sees it for the first time. It’s like finding out the Eiffel Tower isn’t made of gold or the pyramids aren’t smooth anymore.”

He chuckled. “Guess that’s the risk of legends, huh? Expectations outgrow the reality.”

“Kind of like us,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “All this hype for the Viking Era Tour, the promos the matchs… and here we are. Just two people on a pier, trying to figure it all out. We’ve had wins and we’ve had losses, but here we are.”

LJ turned toward her, arching a brow. “Are we talking about wrestling now or something deeper?”

Alexandra shrugged, but it was the kind of shrug that came with weight behind it—like she was trying to shake something off without really letting go of it. “Maybe both.”

For a while, they just stood there, the murmur of water and distant voices filling the spaces between them. Tourists came and went, some snapping photos, others whispering reverently as if afraid to disturb the statue’s solemn pose. A little girl dropped a flower at the base of the rock, and her mother snapped a quick picture, capturing a moment that would probably live on a fridge for years.

“It’s weird,” LJ said finally, voice softer now. “Being here. On this tour. In this moment.”

Alexandra nodded slowly. “We’re halfway across the world, playing pretend gladiators for people who think they know what we’re about. And yet… it’s more real than most things in my life have ever been.”

He turned to look at her again, more intently this time. “Is that why you’re quieter than usual?”

She hesitated. “Maybe. I mean, Denmark is beautiful. There’s a weight to this place, you know? Like it remembers every footstep, every war, every whisper of history that passed through it. And I guess standing next to a statue about longing and loss just brings things up.”

“Longing and loss, huh?” LJ repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re getting poetic on me now, Angel.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She cracked a half-smile, then looked out over the water again. “But yeah. The story behind the statue… it’s kind of tragic. She gave everything for someone who didn’t love her back. Lost her voice. Her identity. Just to chase a dream that wasn’t hers.”

He followed her line of sight, as if trying to see the statue the way she did. “And you relate to that?”

“Don’t you?”

LJ didn’t answer right away. He leaned on the railing, letting the cool sea breeze brush against his face. He put an arm around her, pulling her in against his chest.“I used to. When I first started in this business, I thought I had to be someone else to make it. Lose myself, fit the mold. There was a time when I couldn’t even tell where the character ended and I began.”

“And now?” She looked up at him.

“Now,” he said slowly, “I know just about everything I can. Who I am. What I want. But it’s still a work in progress. But in that locker room, I'm no longer Miles' kid brother. I'm a name.”

Alexandra nodded thoughtfully. “Aren’t we all a work in progress? And you were always more than just Miles' kid brother. They just needed to see it.”

They fell into silence again, but this one was more comfortable. Familiar. Like they’d carved out a little piece of peace in the middle of chaos. The tour had been intense—city after city, match after match, pressure mounting with each bell. But here, under the watchful gaze of the Little Mermaid, things felt… slower. Simpler.

“You nervous about the next match?” LJ asked after a beat.

Alexandra laughed lightly. “Always. But not in the way people think. I’m not scared of losing. I’m scared of not being enough.”

“That’s not a problem you have,” he said, a bit more firmly than he meant to. “You’ve been holding your own every step of the way. Hell, you’ve been doing more than that, love, we’ve all seen it. Week after week. Everytime you step foot in a ring you prove it love.”

She looked at him then, really looked—eyes sharp and clear beneath her dark lashes. “Thanks,” she said. “That means more than you know.”

LJ looked away, a bit embarrassed, pretending to study the passing boat lights flickering on the water’s surface. “We’re partners in this. I’ve got your back, and I know you’ve got mine. That’s not just for the cameras. When those cameras shut off, we still have each other.”

“No, it’s not. It's so much more than that, so much deeper.” She paused. “And I think that’s what scares me too.”

He turned back, confused. “What do you mean?”

Alexandra hesitated. “This thing—this connection we’re building—it feels real. And that’s rare in our world. Most of the time, people just play the part until it’s no longer convenient. I mean look at us, we are about to celebrate one year together.”

LJ nodded slowly. “I get that. But I’m not playing.”

“Neither am I.”

Another beat passed. A seagull cried somewhere overhead, swooping down toward the water before vanishing into the fading light. Behind them, the low hum of city life continued—streetcars, distant chatter, the occasional bell from a cyclist.

“You ever think about what comes after this?” Alexandra asked quietly. “After the tour. After all of this is over and done with, what your next plan is?.”

“All the time.”

“And?”

“And I don’t have a clue,” he admitted with a wry smile. “I try not to look too far ahead in this industry anyways. In our business, plans have a shelf life shorter than a carton of milk. I focus on the good stuff, what's important to me.”

She chuckled. “Fair point.”

“But,” he added, “I do think there’s something worth holding onto here. Between us. I'm down for whatever comes next with us. Because there's no limits. No regrets.”

Alexandra nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. Then, softly, she said, “You ever think the statue’s not just about sadness? Maybe it’s about strength too?”

He looked at her curiously. “How so?”

“She made a choice. A painful one. But she didn’t let it break her. She didn’t get the prince, but maybe she found something else in the end. Something about herself.”

LJ smiled. “Now you’re sounding like a motivational poster.”

“Shut up.” She elbowed him lightly, playfully even.

He laughed, rubbing his side playfully. “Hey, I’m just saying. You went from cynical to deep in like ten minutes.”

“That’s Copenhagen for you,” she said, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “Something in the air.”

They started walking slowly along the harbor’s edge, the statue fading into the distance behind them, a silent witness to whatever had just passed between them. The cobbled path beneath their feet echoed softly with each step.

“So what now?” LJ asked.

Alexandra shrugged again, but this time it was lighter. “Now we get some coffee. Maybe take a ride through Nyhavn, see the colorful houses, and pretend we’re locals.”

He smiled. “And tomorrow?”

She smirked. “Tomorrow, we will fight.”

And with that, the two of them walked off into the night, side by side, not as just friends or coworkers, but as two people learning how to be more than the roles they played—finding something real in the heart of a fairytale city.

---

If the Truth Hurts
Little Mermaid Statue
Copenhagen, Denmark

Copenhagen shimmered under a cold Scandinavian sky, the wind dancing off the waters of the Øresund with a crisp bite that stole breath and seared lungs. It was evening, just after the pale sun had sunk beneath the clouds, and the Little Mermaid statue sat watchfully in her eternal pose of longing and regret. The stone beneath her was slick, darkened by sea spray and the weight of untold stories. And there, a few feet away, leaned Alexandra Calaway — back to the wind, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on the statue like it had answers she'd been chasing her entire career.

She wasn’t alone.

LJ, her ever-steady companion in the chaotic world of Sin City Wrestling, stood to her side, silent for once. He knew better than to speak when she was like this. There was a stillness to her, like the calm before a detonation. Her fists were clenched at her sides, not out of rage — not yet — but something far more dangerous: restraint.

"You ever wonder what she’s thinking?" Alexandra asked, voice low, barely above the whisper of wind and waves.

LJ glanced sideways, then at the statue. "The mermaid? Probably something about regret. Giving up everything for a voice she never got back."

Alexandra laughed. Not bitterly. Not sarcastically. But like someone recognizing an echo of their own history. "Sounds familiar."

LJ didn’t reply. He knew where this was going.

"They love a woman who sacrifices herself for the crowd. They want blood, pain, submission. But god forbid you demand something back. Like... respect. Or your name etched into history without needing to sell your soul."

She turned from the statue, finally facing him. Her eyes were stormy. Dark. Electric.

"Joanne Canelli gets to walk back into this business and everyone acts like she never left. Like we’re supposed to fall to our knees because the Jersey Devil has returned from her vacation. Like she matters more than those of us who’ve bled here."

LJ shrugged, but it was more gesture than agreement. "She’s a name."

"So was Nero," Alexandra shot back. "Didn’t stop Rome from burning."

A gust of wind swept between them, tossing a curl of hair into her face. She didn’t move to brush it away. There was a fire building in her chest, and now it was creeping into her bones, demanding motion, violence, and voice.

She stepped forward, toward the statue again, looking past it now. Toward something else. Maybe the arena. Maybe something more abstract.

"She thinks she’s walking into a ring. What she’s really stepping into is my rage, LJ. Years of it. I have been patient. I have played the game. I have watched others rise because of connections, nostalgia, or because they were loud enough to drown out the truth."

Alexandra turned back to him, fire in her voice now, laced with an unhinged intensity that dared the gods to interrupt her. "But I am the truth. And truth... doesn’t need a welcome-back party. It brings judgment. It brings pain."

LJ met her gaze. "Then do what you came to do."

And just like that, something clicked.

The walls came down.

She began to pace, slow and deliberate, boots crunching against gravel and stone as her thoughts become words. Her voice rose, not for him, but for the universe.

"Joanne, I hope you enjoy the fanfare. The spotlight. The illusion that you're still the devil they all fear. Because when the lights go out and it's just you and me in that ring, all the cheers in the world won't save you."

She stopped.

"You're a relic, Joanne. A trophy they pulled off a dusty shelf to parade around before putting you right back where you belong. Forgotten. I too am a trophy they choose to take off a shelf whenever they want to beat someone down. However the difference is.. I don’t let them forget me."

The wind howled through the trees now, as if the city itself was leaning in to listen.

"But me? I'm not a memory. I'm not a footnote. I'm not someone they can ignore anymore. I’ve evolved beyond the fire you used to bring. I am the inferno now. And when I come for you, it's not with admiration or respect. It’s with teeth. With rage. With the fury of a woman who has bled and screamed and endured in silence for too damn long."

She stepped closer to LJ, not looking at him, but through him. Through the veil that separated the performer from predator.

"I will break her. Not just physically. Psychologically. She will question why she ever came back. And when I pin her — no, when I end her — I won't raise my hand. I won't smile. I won't celebrate."

Alexandra’s breath was rapid now, chest rising and falling as if she were already in the match.

"Because it won’t be a victory. It will be an execution."

LJ took a step back. Not out of fear. But respect. Reverence. What stood before him wasn’t just Alexandra Calaway, wrestler, fighter, woman. It was something more. Something mythic.

She turned toward the water again. Silence returned, but only for a moment.

"This is what they wanted. This is what they get. Not the well-behaved bombshell. Not the forgotten middle-carder. They get me. Pure. Unfiltered. Wrath incarnate."

She looked down at her knuckles, flexing them like the ghosts of battles past were still clinging to her skin.

"Let them talk about legends. Let them worship comebacks. I’ll be the footnote on their gravestones."

And then, quieter, to herself:

"Let them remember what happens when you overlook the darkness. It grows. It learns. And then it devours you."

LJ finally spoke, his voice low, steady, the grounding force that tethered the storm. "You ready to kill a devil?"

Alexandra smiled. Not cruel. Not cocky. But deadly.

"No. I'm ready to remind her she never was one."

She laughed as the scene faded to black.

---

The Devils in the Details
Tivoli Gardens
Copenhagen, Denmark

Night had fully descended over Copenhagen, but Tivoli Gardens thrummed like a beating heart, defiant in the dark. The ancient amusement park — a relic wrapped in lights — glowed from within like a secret trying too hard to stay sweet. Red and gold bled through the mist, spilling over the cobblestone like war paint. Brass music slithered through the air, too slow, too warped — a lullaby played one octave too low. Laughter flared in bursts, but it sounded wrong. Too high. Too hollow. Like a recording of joy played on broken speakers.

The scent of burnt sugar, popcorn, and damp leaves mingled with something older — rust, perhaps. Or memory.

And down a path where the light dared not linger, where the shadows coiled tight like serpents and the air ran colder than the season allowed, Alexandra Calaway stood still beneath a flickering gaslamp. The weak light stuttered overhead, making her shape blur between woman and phantom. Her coat hung off her frame like armor. Her breath fogged in the cold, but she made no move to shield herself from it. She didn’t need warmth. She needed blood.

“You ever notice,” she began, her voice low and deliberate, “how the brightest lights always cast the longest shadows?”

The carousel spun in the distance — lazy, discordant, its chipped horses lurching in a circle of mockery. Their teeth were painted into place, eyes wide with permanent delight. Puppets locked in a loop.

“I hate places like this,” Alexandra muttered. “So much color. So much laughter. And it’s all so…desperate. Manufactured magic. Painted joy.”

She took a step forward. Her boots echoed against the stone like war drums.

“This is what people do when they’re afraid to look at the truth. They build things like this. Lights, music, illusions — all of it designed to distract you. From age. From pain. From death. From the bone-deep rot that lives under the skin of everything.”

Another step.

“I see through it. Always have.”

The fog curled around her like a lover, wrapping around her ankles, whispering at her heels. But she walked through it, slow and steady, toward the carousel. Toward the grotesque parody of innocence.

“Joanne Canelli,” she hissed, and her voice cracked like a whip. “You think this world waited for you.”

She laughed — not humor, but hunger. A deep, involuntary sound scraped from somewhere behind her ribs.

“You think because you called yourself the Jersey Devil, the game would pause until you came back. You thought the fans would still chant your name like gospel. That your throne would stay warm. That your crown would stay clean.”

She spun suddenly, arms out, as if addressing an invisible crowd.

“Welcome home, Joanne! Welcome back to the circus! Step right up! See the former legend in all her faded glory — watch her cling to relevance like a ghost that doesn’t know it’s dead!”

She stopped, breath heaving slightly, shoulders squared, eyes locked on the carousel as if daring it to blink.

“But here’s the thing, sweetheart,” Alexandra said, voice like velvet wrapped around a razor. “While you were gone — while you were sipping vintage wine and signing autographs at Comic-Cons, telling old stories like they still mattered — I was building an empire out of the ashes you left behind.”

Her hands clenched at her sides.

“I didn’t come up through pyro and praise. I came up through silence. Through nights with no crowd. Through matches where no one cared if I lived or died in that ring. And I made them care. Not with nostalgia. Not with name recognition. But with blood. With scars. With fury.”

She circled the carousel now, boots crunching over frost-streaked gravel, never taking her eyes off the spinning relic.

“You called yourself the Devil? Cute. But you’re not a Devil. You’re a memory. You’re a bedtime story the kids don’t believe in anymore.”

She leaned against the iron railing that ringed the ride, speaking now like she was whispering into the mouth of Hell itself.

“I didn’t need a name to become a myth. I earned it. Match by match. Bone by bone. I fought my way through glass, through steel, through fire, and I never stopped. I’ve been broken in rings where the ropes were soaked with the sweat of better wrestlers than you. And I came out smiling. Because I don’t fear pain.”

Her hand shot out suddenly and gripped the cold brass pole of one of the horses. She yanked it violently. The horse groaned and wobbled on its axis. Its painted grin stared back at her — mocking, oblivious.

“You come back thinking you’ll just… pick up where you left off. That the locker room will bow. That the crowd will cheer. That I’ll step aside to make room for your resurrection?”

She slammed her hand down on the horse’s face, cracking a piece of flaking paint from its eye.

“You don’t resurrect what’s already rotting.”

Her voice dropped to a growl.

“This isn’t your kingdom anymore. It’s a killing field. And I own every inch of it. Every inch soaked in my sweat, my blood, my history. You left. I stayed. And I conquered.”

She stood tall now, head back, breath fogging like smoke from a forge.

“When we step into that ring, don’t expect a welcome back. Expect a reckoning. Expect every cheer you think you’ve earned to die in their throats. Expect silence.”

A beat.

“No — worse than silence. Indifference. Because once I break you, no one will remember what you were. Not the belts. Not the legacy. All they’ll see is what I left in that ring: a woman broken by someone hungrier. Someone meaner. Someone who never needed to leave… because this ring is my church. My asylum. My battlefield.”

She stepped back from the carousel, eyes burning now.

“You should’ve stayed gone.”

Her voice cracked, not from weakness — but from too much pressure behind it, like a dam seconds before collapse.

“You should’ve stayed in your scrapbook life. Should’ve kept signing 8x10s for old men who still call you champ. Should’ve stayed where it was safe. Because here? In my world?”

She bared her teeth.

“I will not just beat you. I will erase you.”

A silence fell then. The carousel lights flickered out with a final whine, leaving only the mist and the sound of her breath.

She turned, slowly, walking away — not with haste, but with finality. Her boots echoed on the path like footsteps in a cathedral. And as she vanished into the fog, she whispered, almost lovingly:

“It wasn’t time that buried you, Joanne.” A pause. “It was me.”

With that the scene fades to black with Alexandra chuckling darkly.

27th April 2025
Stockholm, Sweden

The match had been won and a happy J2H wandered through the curtain with Austin Parker and a huge arrogant smile on his face, proud of the match he had just put on out there for the fans in Sweden.

J2H: Told ya I was gonna smash that clown to pieces and send his ass back to the circus where he belongs.

Austin looked at J2H, adjusting his cowboy hat and starting at the much younger man.

Austin: Y'all might wanna look that back. For a fella that doesn't wrestle that often, he was better then ah thought he would be.

J2H  stopped walking and looked towards Austin, his head tilted as he let the words slowly sink in to his brain. He put up his hands in front of him, his palms towards Austin.

J2H: Ok, maybe, just maybe he was better then I expected, maybe he lifted up his game because everyone needs to lift their game against me, but I handled him well. I don't underestimate people but he was there to be underestimated. He was a referee, he is a referee, he's not on my level at all. He's seriously what he makes himself to be, a clown.

Austin was used to the confidence slash arrogance of J2H, so let the comments ride off his back.

Austin: Just don't get complacent. Keep yer head in the game because you have no idea who is going to be next.

J2H waved his hand, dismissing the notion of who might be next as a threat.

J2H: It doesn't matter who's next. I don't fear anyone in this competition, I never have, I never will. 

Austin: Ya signed up without looking at who was in it.

J2H smirked at Austin, winking at him while the smirk sat on his face.

J2H: Because I'm that confident. There's no one who can beat me in this thing. I just hope I get a good opponent in the final so I don't have to carry some idiot through. I had a clown this week who doesn't wrestle, probably get some idiot next time who can't wrestle.

Austin: Just don't take anyone lightly.

J2H rolled his eyes, unimpressed with what Austin had to say but before he could talk further, the cameraman interrupted them.

Cameraman: I'm sorry to interrupt, I've been asked if I can get your immediate reaction to the match you just had.

J2H's head snapped around to face the cameraman, looking beyond the camera and in to the man's eyes.

J2H: Who fucking asked you that? I don't really give a shit about who's around me, but I don't think anyone came over to you. Are you going rouge to get a promotion or something? Wanna steal Scott Oliver's job? Although that might not be a bad thing because he loses his stoner shit when talking to the Barnhart's. It's like he's just come out of rehab.

Cameraman: I uh, I got a message in my ear from Mr Ward asking me to film. He thought it might be good to help with selling the tournament.

J2H fired Austin a sideward glance, before looking back down the camera.

J2H: Yeah, always sell, sell, sell, get the brownie points by making shit about wrestling therefore making his bank account look good, but ok, you want me to talk about what I just did out there? You want me to sell the fact that I'm a fucking wrestler and that I can actually wrestle better then everyone else on this planet?

Cameraman: I um...

J2H put his finger to his lip, holding it up to instantly stop the cameraman from talking.

J2H: How do I feel? I'm J2H! I've seriously just gone out there and put on one hell of a match with a guy who barely wrestles. That was one of the best matches on Climax Control this year. I went out there and made him look good. I'm on top of the fucking world, I've taken the first step in to winning this whole damn thing. You want me sitting here selling the tournament, the whole thing was already sold the second my name went on the paper to be part of this. Everyone knew at that point, that I was gonna walk out there every week and make fucking magic and I did that tonight. I made fucking magic against a guy who looks like he belongs in a magic act. I feel like I got this tournament in the bag. I feel like there's not one person out there who can stop me.

Confidence went through him like a freight train, the adrenaline building up.

J2H: I said to everyone this match was gonna be a warning to every person in this tournament. I said I was gonna show you all just what I am capable of and what did I do out there? I went out there and showed everyone what I was gonna do to anyone I face. Shots fired and I'm not running out of ammo for a long time. I got more ammo then everyone in this tournament has brain cells put together. It doesn't matter who is next, I will beat them, because I'm J2H. Now fuck off, time to go home.

J2H attempted to walk away, but Christian Underwood's voice stopped him.

Christian: Actually, I'd reconsider going home. I mean flying all the way back for a few days, then having to go to the next spot, which is much closer, will probably be better for you.

J2H looked curiously at Christian Underwood, an eyebrow raised in his direction.

J2H: Spoken like a man without a family to see. What are you talking about? I just wrestled, I just won, now I get to go home for a couple of weeks.

Christian face changed, almost sympathies, but with hints of joy.

Christian: Well, this is awkward because you won't be at home for a couple of weeks. See there was some changes and you're up again next week so I wouldn't be going home just yet.

The anger instantly hit J2H hard as his blood started to proverbially boil as he looked at Christian through narrowed eyes and spoke through gritted teeth.

J2H: What the actual fuck!? I don't need to wrestle every week, I'm J2H! I'm the special attraction that you need! I don't need to do this, my contract says so!

Christian: The thing is, when you signed up for Blast From The Past, it said everyone can be booked at any time, till the tournament ends. You are up again next week.

J2H turned his head and looked at Austin in disbelief but Austin shrugged his shoulders.

Austin: This is what happens when ya sign shit you don't read.

J2H glared at Austin before turning back to look at Christian.

J2H: Fine, but who the fuck am I facing?

Christian smiled.

Christian: Travis Levitt... Now you have a nice day!

With that, Christian walked away, leaving J2H to just stare at Austin.

J2H: No fucking problem.

Both men wandered away as the camera faded to black.

---

30th April 2025,
Copenhagen, Denmark.

He was never the most sociable person in the world, keeping his circle close in his personal and professional life, only Austin Parker, Kevin Carter and until recently, Alexander Raven breaking that mold and being close to J2H in a professional environment. He had always made it very clear that he didn't like the people he worked with, other then the job at hand, wrestling, he had zero in common with any of them. Even attempted forced friendships thrust upon him in the past never hit home, with the likes of the innocent Despayre trying to be his friend, and Devona trying to open him up and make him more fan friendly. He'd found his path early, he knew he didn't need the fans on his side to be known, and it worked, why change something that never needed changing? It's no surprise that he wasn't like the rest of the SCW, running to play tourist and looking at famous sights with every country he stepped in, so it would be no surprise that he was laying in a hotel room looking at the ceiling.

His mood was bored as it often was away from home and Kevin wasn't around to keep him entertained. For a man who can take the attention on television, walking around a foreign land with eyes on him wasn't for him. The thought to sleep had run through his head countless times and it felt like it could well be the winning thought until his phone on the nightstand lit up. He reached over for it to see Melody's smiling face, attempting to Facetime with her husband. He wasted very little time in clicking the answer button and seeing Melody's face appear on the screen.

J2H: Hey!

Half a smile appeared on his face as his eyes adjusted to the bright screen in front of him, the feeling of happiness seeing his wife ran through him but there was a slightly different look on her face, her voice faster then usual.

Melody: Are you alright? I got this really weird feeling that something was wrong, so I tried calling and it couldn't connect so I called Simpson and...

He had to stop her, he knew she could talk fast till she ran out of breath.

J2H: You might wanna breathe or something there. Slow down and just talk.

She listened to her husband and took a deep breath before she asked just a simple question.

Melody: Are you ok?

He was more then a little surprised by her asking that, but also knew they had a connection that neither one of them could explain to anyone, they just knew when something was up or wrong.

J2H: Yeah, I'm just bored out of my head in this place. I know this is all about glamour so people think but when ya in a hotel room in a city that makes me think shit it's expensive, takes away to side of the job everyone thinks we have. 

A look of relief instantly covered her face as she looked at him.

J2H: Is everything ok there?

She nodded at a normal pace, her anxiety left her after checking on her husband.

Melody: Yeah, little guy is in school, he misses you, he thought you was gonna be home on Monday.

Internally, J2H sighed, as much as he knew how good he was wrestling, he always preferred to do it in America. SCW was booked close to home for him, he could always get home pretty soon, but half way across the world, he hated it.

J2H: I thought I was gonna be home on Monday, they never do this shit and put me twice in a row, they never do it. This tour has been bullshit from the start. Bad countries with nothing to really do, gawking fans everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. They're polite, but they're everywhere, all over the place. I've avoided everywhere public since I've been here.

She could hear just by his tone that he wasn't happy being there, but she knew he had to do it.

Melody: They won't book you next week, right?

He smiled inside hearing that, knowing it was very unlikely.

J2H: They shouldn't be but you never know. It's not likely, they don't need me there to work on a promo to sell the match or work on anything. Wouldn't be shocked if they want me to do something just to piss me off, but wrestle won't be one of them. Then off to Paris.

It was strange as most people disliked France and the bustling side of Paris, but J2H didn't mind it at all. 

Melody: I can't wait to see Paris again. We'll be flying over as soon as we can for that one.

J2H: Yeah, I just need to get past this match. I know without me getting to that final, there's no need for me to be there for some bullshit match. I can smell the booking now, Blast from The Past losers teaming up to take on other Blast From The Past losers in a mixed tag match. Some kind of bullshit there I don't want any part of. Probably make it a contenders match, means me getting my hands on Finn for the first time will be in a throwaway nothing match.

Melody couldn't help but smile at J2H's fantasy booking, even if she knew it was unlikely, she knew her Husband had been around SCW long enough to notice booking patterns.

Melody: I don't think they'll do that. 

She was assured with her words, adding a slight nod to the end.

J2H: I better make sure I don't lose then. It's a bit of a banana peel, even though I'll rip him a new asshole on like Friday or something, but I hate taking on people like him.

Melody wasn't sure on what to make on J2H's comment.

Melody: What do you mean James?

He chose his words wisely, taking a few seconds to think.

J2H: He took on Justin Smith, not exactly gold standard there. I think he just about did enough to get past him. I don't like people like that, just doing the minimum to get through but me, I'm the guy with the target on my back from the second I signed up, so people who don't take shit one hundred percent serious, I don't like. Watching his match there, he's hard to read. Everyone knew he was gonna get past Justin Smith, seriously everyone. Maybe he knew, but with me. I don't know. I'm not doubting myself, it's just people like him are tricky.

He still had every confidence in himself, but he knew how things could go sometimes.

Melody: You have nothing to worry about at all.

Her words were reassuring and he knew she was right.

J2H: Yeah, I guess being in some hotel looking at the ceiling gives me way too much time to think about every little thing.

Melody knew what he was like on tour and often stayed away from everyone until he had to do something, like check out the arena, or cut a promo.

Melody: I know it's not usually your thing, but why don't you go out for a while? Put on a hood and just walk around the place, I'm sure no one will recognize you if you pull the hood up.

J2H: Are you kidding? This is place is swarming with people. They're everywhere. They're not a threat but seems like SCW has brought out everyone already. It's not even the weekend and people are coming to the city. It's like they're going for the whole tour experience. We've done a lot of tours and I'm praying there's never a world tour again, because these tours are getting worse.

Melody: We'll that'll teach ya to sign up to something without seeing where the shows are going to be held.

He knew she was mocking him and he couldn't help but smile at her.

J2H: Hearing that don't sign shit a lot lately. Surprised with all the stupid shit I sign lately, Despayre hasn't popped up out of nowhere to get me to sign something to adopt a mongoose or something.

Melody instinctively laughed, covering her mouth after her initial outburst. After a few seconds, she composed herself to speak.

Melody: A mongoose? Where did that come from?

He honestly didn't know, it was just the first thing that came to his mind.

J2H: No idea but I wouldn't put it past him. He's been way too quiet lately.

The joke broke the mood, making it in to a much lighter tone and the two spoke for hours more, nothing that was overly important to wrestling, and nothing that would keep the average human being entertained, so this is where the scene fades out.

---

2nd April 2025,
Rosenborg Palace,
Copenhagen, Denmark.

He sat on the banks of the water surrounding the castle, his back to it all, the camera showing a wide shot of J2H as he looked around at the empty area, closed just for him to sit and talk, as was the respect between the people of Denmark and Sin City Wrestling. The city had been very accommodating to everyone involved in Sin City Wrestling and appreciative of the new trade a wrestling company had pulled in to their city. J2H looked over his shoulder for a second before looking back down the camera.

J2H: A home fit for a king, maybe but when you're a God, you deserve better.

He smirked as he looked down the camera, always proclaiming himself to be a God.

J2H: Well Copenhagen, you're fucking welcome because once again, I've rolled in to town and business just booms once more. The crowds flock from all over Denmark just to see this guy wrestle again. Consider yourself the luckiest people alive because I didn't want to be here, I don't give a shit about this place or anyone in it, but you're welcome anyway.

Arrogance was always his strong suit, but he knew those feelings had some truth to them.

J2H: I was set to go home, be with my family, not give a damn about being here or being around you so called wrestling fans, yet here I am because I was forced to be here. Believe me, if I wasn't being made to smack another nobody in the face, then I would be back in Beverly Hills, not giving a fuck about anything or anyone, but I am here and I'm here to book a ticket, I'm here to book a ticket to a city that is so much better then this place. I'm booking my ticket to Paris, not for that shitty Disneyland offspring, but to once again become Blast From The Past winner. Unfortunately, I had to come to this overpriced garbage land first. That just means by Sunday, I'm not gonna be in the mood to fuck about, I'm coming to destroy someone and get out of here. We all know who that poor bastard is, right?

J2H waited for a few seconds, waiting for people to have time to form an answer. 

J2H: Unless you've been living under a rock, you all know it's Travis Levitt. You guys remember him? Did he actually do anything here at all?

A tap of his chin with his forefinger, along with a frown indicated that he was thinking about the answer.

J2H: Well, no. Didn't do a whole lot, but Travis, you have made the same mistakes so many people have made over the years when it comes to this tournament. You've fell right in to the trap that every returning guy or girl has made when it comes to Blast From The Past. You look at it with tunnel vision, you look at it looking at the end of the road and not seeing everything else that's around you. You've stepped in thinking this is going to be your chance to relive those glory days, because you're back in the big time. You're back in the biggest place you've ever stepped foot in and you're sitting there thinking fuck, I can be someone again, I can actually get back the thing that I lost, prove to myself that I can still hang with the best in the wrestling world. That's what you was thinking when you put your name on that contract, right? 

He put out a hand flat, inviting an answer from no one.

J2H: That's where you've gone wrong, because everyone thinks that. Everyone thinks about the glory, without the work, everyone thinks of the dream ending but not the shit you need to get through to get there. I am the guy no one wants to face cause they know all about me, they know what I can do, they know who I am and when I'm determined as fuck, no one stops me. Deep down, you remember me, and you know this to be the truth, but you're still making that mistake Travis, you're still thinking about the glory at the end of the road. There's a problem there, I see the problem, everyone watching this sees the problem, those brain dead fucks that can just hear me cause they have porn open in another tab can see the problem. While you're looking at the end of the road, not taking any notice of what's around you, I've built a brick wall that you can't get through. I'm everyone's road block. I killed the dreams of a moron with a cape last week.

He smiled as he thought back to his previous victory.

J2H: I stopped him from getting something that he'd always wanted. He was looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and didn't see the things that was right there in front of him. You're the same Travis, you can't see the wood for the trees. If you're unfamiliar with that saying, looking it up, because this is what you're doing. I bet you didn't do any research, I bet you didn't look in to anyone in this thing, neither did I, but I know nothing stops me. Probably wondering why I'm mentioning that when I can fall on that sword too, right?

He bunched up his fist and mockingly hit himself in the chest in a stabbing motion.

J2H: Well, that's simple. You've looked around and you saw Justin Smith as your first round opponent and you pushed yourself to learn a little about him, but the truth is, he sucks. He doesn't beat anyone, he never has beaten anyone. The guy is nothing. I'm sure you got a big ass confidence boost beating on someone who just make up the numbers. Absolutely well done...

He sarcastically slow clapped, mocking the victory.

J2H: That confidence getting a win must have made you really happy, got you really excited, but go back further, watch the shit that he does and you soon work out that even if you was blindfolded and had one arm tied behind your back, you could have still beat that cackling shit for brains idiot. You could have your legs shackled and still beat him. Believe me when I say he's never gonna have a match in his life where people will call it epic, not one, but me on the other hand...

A prideful smile crossed his face, and he had every right to be proud.

J2H: While you've been gone, I've been in some of the biggest matches of all time. The last two years alone, I was a two time World Champion, I gave the belt up just to let someone else have a go Travis, and they pretty much killed the place because even with the belt, they couldn't outshine me or what I was doing, they couldn't step up and grab that limelight away from me. I put my body through hell, in matches that tore of my flesh from my bones, I went home hurting for weeks, no able to pick up my son. I did that, winning award after award, after award, putting my body on the line for this place for years. While you've been sitting on your sofa, changing up the look, piling on a couple of pounds, I was creating something special. 

He smirked as he looked in to the camera.

J2H: They say long term story telling is dead, but I am proving that wrong.

He nodded to himself at what was quite possibly an inside joke.

J2H: While you sat on your ass for so long, I hit the highs, and I hit some lows. I should be number one contender now but some English son of a bitch stopped that, so I'm doing it by going through this. The dips will make the end game so much better Travis and my end game is winning this whole fucking thing. You returning, doesn't get me excited, you beating Justin Smith is on the level of watching paint dry. Do you think you're gonna come back and stop the biggest story of the year? I don't think so. You're not gonna fuck with the plan. As soon as the chamber was done, I knew I had one more shot at everything, I knew I had to take it and you coming back to wave your flag and try and live those glory days is not gonna stop that. Like I told you, you're no different from anyone else that comes back and tries to win this thing.

He shook his head slowly to get his point across.

J2H: Are you even expecting the fans to actually care about you? Did you think a couple of weeks ago you was gonna get a roaring reception with everyone chanting your name, holding up welcome back signs, throwing out a parade for you?

He looked horrified at the thought of that.

J2H: These people are stupid, they love nostalgia, they're probably pissing their pants over Joanne Canelli coming back this week, which is a bit random, but Travis, they don't care that you returned. They didn't against Justin Smith and they're not tuning in to this match because you're in it. They're tuning in because of me. They're not following your great return story, they're following my rise to the top again. They've seen the "drama" I bring, that roller coaster ride, that lightning in a bottle and they know it's what they want to see. You being in this match, well, they all know it's a goodbye for you because they know that once you lose, you'll be back to the sofa, or under whatever rock you crawled out from, knowing you don't have it anymore.

He pointed to his eyes.

J2H: These things right here, you have some too and yours are gonna be wide open after Sunday because you're gonna see so much from this one little match. You're gonna see you can't hang with people like me anymore. You're gonna see that Justin Smith is your level and I'm sure Christian or Mark will sign you to fight people like him every week, but you're gonna see you're just not up to this level anymore. I mean you never was when compared to me but this is gonna hit you like a truck. Still, you can take away a mostly expenses paid trip to a bunch of cold countries as a win. I mean you've probably never been to these places before so tick them off, but your time of touring around ends after Sunday.

He mocked Travis with a slow wave down the camera.

J2H: No one's gonna remember you after Sunday until they mention me winning Blast From The Past in a few weeks time. No one's gonna care when you walk out that door, because this is all about me, all about J2H. You're just there for the sake of being there, because you put your name on a contract and that's it. You're there because you had a little bit of hope that I will take away from you. I'm thinking that you're not gonna be as much of a challenge as that little clown that I beat last week. He surprised me a little, but I am not expecting anything from you Travis. Justin Smith is like beating up an overgrown baby, but me? I'm a whole different game. People talking about one hundred men beating a gorilla lately and all that stupid shit. Well, it's gonna take more then one hundred Travis Levitt's to beat one J2H. You don't have it in you, you never when you was in your prime and you sure as shit don't have it in you now.

He cracked his knuckles together.

J2H: Whatever delusion you have in your head right now, it's time to get rid of it, because now you've heard me, now you know I'm not coming here to fuck around, I'm coming here to get rid of you, make sure that you never get to darken the door of SCW again. Turn the lights off when you leave and lock the door Travis, we're not throwing you a farewell party, it's time for you to move on again because Sunday's about to show you that any doubts you had about yourself in your mind leading up to this, well they're all true. You don't belong here anymore, you outstayed your welcome after your first match back.Time for you to go and never look back again and that's real talk bitch!

With his last line delivered with complete confidence, a quick nod of his head indicated for the camera to fade to black. >