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Climax Control Archives / Thanksgiving Eve: The Plucked Raven
« Last post by HBCarter on November 28, 2025, 06:10:18 AM »
Olympia, Washington -
Day Before Thanksgiving
Day Before Thanksgiving
The forecast for Thanksgiving in Olympia was rain with overcast skies, and judging by what was offered the day before, the forecast would come true. The temperature was in the low fifties, just enough to bite at the skin but if you’re a native to Washington - or the United Kingdom - not so much.
Two rental vehicles made the slow drive up along the path to the house inherited by Carter Kasey-McKinney from his late father. Miles took the lead in a dark blue Ford Explorer, with Carter in the passenger seat. In the back seat, Kevin pressed closer to the glass, staring wide-eyed through the window. Behind them, LJ followed in a charcoal Dodge Durango, Alexandra Calaway in the passenger seat while her daughter Ashlynn leaned forward from the back, trying to get her first look at the house as she had not been present for the wedding ceremony itself.
A tan SUV was already parked in front of the three-vehicle garage.
Carter smiled and nodded toward it. “Mom and Grams beat us here.” Garnering a reply of, “You expected different?” From his husband behind the wheel.
From the back seat, Kevin remained in awe. “This place is huge!”
Miles smirked and Carter turned around enough to meet Kevin’s stunned expression.
“This is really your house?” Kevin asked.
“Yeah.” Carter answered gently. “My dad left it to me when he passed.”
Kevin’s face fell and he said with genuine remorse. “I’m sorry.”
Carter’s response was a small, warm smile. “It’s ok.” He said.
Kevin asked, “So why do you guys live in Vegas and not here?”
Carter glanced at Miles. “Because Vegas is home.”
The vehicles slowed to a stop beside the tan SU and they began climbing out and grabbing at their luggage. Carter slid one of his suitcases from out of the back and looked back over one shoulder. “Kev? Walk with me.”
Kevin straightened and fell into step beside him, rolling his small suitcase along the damp concrete. The others moved ahead while Carter held Kevin behind.
Carter lowered his voice. “So, I talked to Mom and Grams.”
Kevin shot him a quick look. “About?”
“About taking it slow.” Carter answered. “I told them you’re still getting used to all this, and they’re not gonna pile on or make it weird. You set the pace. If you need space, you say so. If you’re up for hugs, great. If not, they’ll back off.”
“Thank you.” Kevin said quietly.
Carter offered him a soft grin. “You’re stuck with us, kid.” He said. “Comes with the package.”
A hint of a smile tugged at Kevin’s mouth as they joined the others at the front porch. Carter hit the digital pad of the alarm, a precaution his father had insisted on from before their reconciliation. Carter then dug his keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door. He pushed the door open and stepped to the side, holding it with his shoulder.
“Come on in!” He offered an invitation.
Alexandra and LJ went first, Ashlynn trailed just behind her mom, eyes already exploring. Kevin followed next, pausing for the briefest moment, before stepping all of the way inside. Miles came after him, and only once everyone was through did Carter set foot inside, closing the door behind them.
Ashlynn turned in a slow circle, taking it all in while beside her, Kevin’s gaze traveled over everything with quiet awe. The poor kid never realized Carter had this kind of house just waiting to be used and it looked far bigger on the inside than it did on the outside.
Carter’s voice carried through the foyer. “Mom? Grams? We’re here!”
Grams was the first to appear a moment later, stepping out from the door frame that led toward the kitchen. Behind her came Joanna Carter’s mother, Joanna, her glasses set high on the bridge of her nose as she hurriedly dusted the flour on her hands to her apron.
“Darling!” Grams said with a bright smile and voice rich with affection. But instead of heading straight for her grandson, she made for Miles, nudging Carter lightly aside with a brush of her hand, a ritual that has played out often over the past few years.
Miles opened his arms with a smug smile, saying “Carter should’ve known better. I get first dibs!”
Joanna’s smile was unmistakable as she joined in, giving Miles an embrace of her own before finally turning to Carter who lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “I see how it is!”
Only after Miles was thoroughly smothered in grandmotherly and motherly affection did Carter receive his share of hugs. When everyone pulled apart, Carter gestured toward the others.
“LJ, Alexandra, you remember my mom and Grams from the wedding?”
Alexandra’s smile was mischievous in remembrance. “How could we forget?”
Olympia, Washington -
July 24, 2024
July 24, 2024
Guests mingled between tables in the reception tent at the wedding of Miles Kasey and Carter McKinney. The soft hum of conversation blending with distant music and people eating their fill from the buffet laid out by one of the city’s best caterers. Miles approached with a glass of champagne in hand and Carter at his side, both of them flushed with the type of euphoria that a wedding brings to a truly happy couple. Trailing behind them were Carter’s Grams and Mother, whom Miles wanted to introduce to two people in particular.
“LJ! Alexandra!” Miles called as he guided his brother and Alexandra away from the crowd. “I want you to meet Carter’s Mom and Grams.”
Joanna stepped forward first as she extended her hand to both LJ and Alexandra, expressing “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you! Miles and Carter have told us so much.” Earning a “Lies! All lies!” response from LJ.
Grams followed with her own greeting, her eyes assessing. “Lovely to meet you both.” She said, her gaze drifting subtly to Alexandra standing beside LJ, and noticing the age difference between the two but having the good social graces not to comment openly.
She slid her arm through Alexandra’s with practiced familiarity, leaning in close to gently say, “Good for you, dear.”
“Mother!” Joanna gasped, eyes wide.
Olympia, Washington -
Present
Present
Ashlynn stepped forward when Alexandra gently nudged her, the girl’s eyes bright and curious as she looked at the two older women. “Ladies,” Alexandra said warmly. “This is my daughter, Ashlynn.”
“Oh, she’s beautiful.” Joanna said, her face lighting up. “Welcome, sweetheart.”
Grams gave a similar reaction, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Ashlynn’s ear. “A stunner, just like her mother.”
Ashlynn beamed under the attention, shy but pleased, and Alexandra gave her a subtle squeeze of reassurance. But once the greetings shifted, Kevin felt two sets of affectionate eyes suddenly turning toward him. He froze for a heartbeat, any sudden attention, especially from adults, something to be apprehensive about after everything he had suffered through this past year.
Carter stepped to Kevin’s side, a hand on his shoulder for reassurance, “Mom already talked to this handsome guy on video chat. Grams? This is…”
“I know who he is.” Grams interrupted gently, her tone warm but firm. “Come here, dear.”
Kevin wasn’t sure what to do, whether he was supposed to nod, smile or wave awkwardly, but Joanna made the decision for him. She stepped in and placed her hands on his shoulders with a careful tenderness, her touch steady and her expression assessing. That one, simple gesture cracked through a wall inside of the teenager. Kevin’s mother had never touched him like that. Never smiled at him just to appreciate him for being there and being … himself. For a teenager who had grown up moving from uncertainty to fear to survival, affection mixed with expectation usually meant danger.
But Joanna’s smile wasn’t demanding anything of him. It was gentle and welcoming. “I’m so happy to finally meet you face to face.” She said softly.
The color on the nape of Kevin’s neck colored just a ration up to his ears. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Then Grams stepped in, laying a warm, steady hand on his shoulder. She didn’t pull him into a hug, didn’t crowd him. She simply stood there, giving him a smile that carried no pressure.
“Welcome, Kevin.” She said. “We’re very glad you’re here.”
Kevin drew a slow breath. The instinct to shrink back loosened, just enough for him to smile and nod.
Grams leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear. “Carter told us to take it easy. But I hope you won’t mind if we slip now and then.”
Kevin blinked, then let out a tiny, almost shy smile. “I … think that would be okay.”
Joanna’s smile softened even further at Kevin’s answer. “Good.” She said, then glanced past him to where Ashlynn stood, still hovering near her mother. “Now, are you two young ones hungry? We can whip up a quick snack while we keep working on Thanksgiving dinner for tomorrow.”
Ashlynn perked up instantly. “Yes, please.”
Kevin hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Kinda, yeah.”
“Then come on.” Joanna said, directing traffic with a wave. “We’ll find you something.”
She and Grams herded the two teenagers toward the hallway leading to the back of the house, voices already drifting into talk of cookies and cutting up fruit and whether hot cocoa sounded good. Carter watched them go and drew in a breath and called after them, “Hey, you want help with dinner? I can…!”
“No!” Came the chorus of voices from Miles, Joanna, Grams, LJ, even Alexandra chiming in for good measure. Carter stared around at all of them, eyes wide. “You know you all could give a guy a complex about his cooking!”
His mom, already rounding the corner with Ashlynn and Kevin, pointed a finger back toward him. “You, mister, show everyone to their rooms. We’ve got it from here.”
“Fiiine!” Carter groaned theatrically, turning back to face his husband, brother-in-law and close friend.
He picked up Kevin’s luggage handle with one hand and fit his own duffel more securely on his shoulder. “Come on.” He said to LJ and Alexandra. “Upstairs.”
LJ grabbed his and Alexandra’s bags along with Ashlynn’s rolling suitcase. Miles moved to follow them, but Joanna’s voice cut through from the kitchen doorway. “Miles? Could I borrow you for a minute?”
He paused mid-step, glancing up after the others. Carter gave him a questioning look over the railing. Miles turned and headed toward the kitchen after reassuring Carter he’d be right up. Grams was already fussing over Ashlynn and Kevin at the far end of the counter, setting out plates while Joanna wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Come with me,” Joanna said from across the kitchen. “I found something in Cillian’s garage. I think you might get some use out of it year.”
The garage was neat with organized shelves along the walls, boxes clearly labeled, Cillian’s old tools lined up in meticulous rows. A few of Carter’s things were tucked here and there, but it remained Cillian’s as if Carter was using it to memorialize his deceased father.
Joanna walked ahead, weaving past a stack of storage bins until she stopped near the far wall. Something was draped in a heavy canvas cover, large and rectangular. She gave the cover a good tug and canvas dropped away to reveal a gleaming Weber Spirit E-310 Gas Grill, clearly rarely used, if ever at all.
Miles’s jaw actually went slack for a second. “Wow…. No way!”
“Oh yes.” Joanna said, clearly pleased by his reaction. “Cillian always loved grilling, just like you. He bought this before he passed, even though he wasn't sure why. I don’t think he ever used it.” She shrugged, the motion small but full of meaning. “It’s just been sitting here.”
Miles flipped open the top, inspecting it like a car enthusiast would inspect the latest model on a show room floor. He glanced back at her, eyes bright. “Mum, this thing is gorgeous. And huge. You could feed a small army on this.”
“I was hoping you might say that.” She said, the corners of her mouth curving upward, “Considering that’s what we’re doing tomorrow if what I hear about LJ’s appetite is accurate.”
She stepped closer, folding her arms over her chest. “Your grilled turkey last year? It was exquisite. We were hoping you’d make it again this year. Cillian would have loved this thing getting some real use. And I think he would’ve liked the idea of you doing the honors. He liked you, the one time you met. He really did.”
Miles swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. For the longest time, he thought of Carter’s Dad as a wanker of the highest order. Until he got to know the dying man, and he and Carter had reconciled. “Okay then.” He said, closing the lid to the grill. “I’ll do it. Grilled turkey, round two! We’re gonna need more butter, though.”
Joanna smiled, relief and delight mingling in her expression.
Later that evening…
The house had long since settled into that warm, post-dinner quiet. In the living room, Carter lounged on one end of the couch, LJ on the other, and Alexandra curled comfortably in an armchair. They were halfway through the 1999 classic, The Mummy, when a burst of noise erupted from the kitchen behind them! Loud voices, drawers slamming, something metallic clattering loudly. Carter paused the movie with a raised brow.
Moments later Miles hurried past the doorway, looking over his shoulder as if expecting pursuit.
“Jesus! I just got chased out of the kitchen!” He announced breathlessly, pointing back toward the source of the chaos. “All I wanted was a snack and a beer!”
Carter snorted. “Glad it’s not just me. I almost got a wooden spoon to the backside dragging a glass of wine out of there.”
LJ chuckled under his breath. Before any of them could comment, two figures stepped into view from the kitchen entrance.
Kevin and Ashlynn.
Each held an ice-cold can of Dr Pepper and Ashlynn had a jumbo-sized bag of cheesy Doritos in hand. The four adults watched silently as the teenagers made their way past the living room and toward the front door. Kevin opened the door and they stepped out onto the porch, chatting easily between the two of them.
Only then did Carter turn to the others.
“Am I the only one thinking there’s a new pecking order around here?”
“You know, there’s a funny thing that happens when you spend weeks being stalked by the same vulture. You stop being scared of it.”
“You stop being surprised when it circles overhead, flapping its wings, croaking about destiny and conspiracies and how the world doesn’t appreciate its genius and how everyone owes you simply for you being you. You stop flinching when it swoops. You get tired of the same old routine, week in and week out. You get annoyed and eventually, you start looking at the sky and thinking, ‘I can’t wait for that thing to land so I can grab it by the neck and shut it up!’”
“Well congratulations are in order, Alexander Raven. You finally landed!”
“This match is non-title, let’s get that out there right away, because you and yoLuna’s propensity to rewrite history and justify your misguided and misdirected actions and choices. There is no belt on the line. No gold, no stakes higher than two fists and a three count. And yet somehow, this one match feels more important than half the defenses that I’ve had since May! Funny, that. Because this isn’t about the championship, Alexander. That maniacal brain of yours does understand that, yes? This is about everything that happened ever since you slithered back into SCW acting like the company owed you a parade!”
“You walked back through those doors with a deranged superiority complex! When in reality, the last time we saw you before that, you were sent packing with your tail tucked between your legs. Like the world should stop, fall to one knee, and kiss your hairy ass just for the honor of your presence! No work put in! Nothing of notoriety earned, nothing proven to the world that he was anything remotely close to what he or his narcissistic cheerleader says he is! Just this smug belief that your mere existence deserved opportunity!”
“That’s the thing with entitled people like you, Alex. You don’t see the grind. You don’t respect it. You don’t understand that the reason some of us are at the top is because we bled for it, we broke our bones for it, we watched our lives fall apart just for the opportunity to climb one more rung on the ladder! You don’t see any of that because you don’t want to! Because the reality would pop that bubble you’ve encased your narrow little mind in to justify whatever choices you make in life! You just look at the top of the mountain and say, ‘That should be mine!’ like a toddler pointing at someone else’s toy that mommy either wouldn’t or couldn’t buy for her little golden child!”
“And when the world doesn’t hand it to you? You don’t work harder for it. You don’t work to improve and better your chances. You don’t take the L and grow from it.”
“You steal it.”
“You stole the world title belt because you couldn’t earn it! Let’s not insult anyone’s intelligence by trying to claim it as mind games or symbolism or any of the bullshit you try to wrap your choices in to make them sound deep! You didn’t send a message. You didn’t expose a system. You snuck in, you grabbed what wasn’t yours, and you ran like a little bitch!”
“You paraded around with something you didn’t win and convinced yourself it meant something. You walked like a champion, talked like a champion, posed like a champion, but you never did the one thing that actually makes someone a champion. You never beat me.”
“And yet, in that twisted little brain of yours, you still found a way to turn yourself into the victim. The world was against you. Management was against you. The fans, the locker room, the alignment of the stars, the rings of Saturn and the tilt of the planet’s axis… every single thing except the man in the mirror was responsible for the fact you weren’t at the top of the mountain! That’s your favorite story, isn’t it? Everything from ‘They don’t understand me!’ to ‘They’re scared of what I could become!’ You’ve got a conspiracy theory for every failure in your career, and not one of those theories includes the line that maybe you just weren’t good enough. You’re worse than a high school debutante who didn’t get elected prom queen when her daddy promised!”
“And then we get to High Stakes XV. You marched into that show with the swagger of a champion, thinking the ending of your match was preordained! You made the critical error of using Alex Jones in your vendetta against me and Buttercup, you had to have known how that was going to go down! In the end, Alex Jones folded you like cheap origami! You tanked, Alexander! You crashed and burned! You failed on the grandest stage, at the biggest event of the SCW calendar year! That wasn’t sabotage. That wasn’t some plot. That was just a little something the rest of us call reality!”
“But of course you don’t see it that way. No, in your head, even that loss became some kind of martyrdom. Another chapter in the gospel according to Raven where you’re the misunderstood savior and everyone else is too blind to recognize your greatness. You take an L and twist it into a prophecy. You eat a pin and call it a conspiracy. And somehow even after that, even after embarrassing yourself on the biggest show we’ve got, you still had the nerve to stand there and insist you’re owed the world title! Owed… what a crock of shit!”
"Do you know what I was owed in this life, Alex? Nothing! Not a damn thing! I had to claw for every scrap of respect I’ve got! I had to fight through every slur, every eye roll, every promoter who said, ‘We’re not sure your type can be the face of the company!’ I had to prove that someone like me could break every one of those stereotypes over and over again!”
“I wasn’t owed this belt. I earned it. You weren’t robbed of this belt. You just never measured up to it. And that eats you alive, doesn’t it? That’s why you keep circling me. That’s why you keep using my name in your little manifestos, why you keep weaving me into your theories about how the company is corrupt and the universe is rigged and destiny keeps slipping through your fingers because the strings are pulled by invisible hands! Newsflash, Raven! The only hands pulling your strings are your own. You’re not cursed. You’re not persecuted. You’re just not as good as you think you are!”
“So here we are! Non-title. No excuses. No stolen belts, no shadows to hide behind, no way to pretend management is screwing you when the bell rings and it’s just you and me. You say you’ve been wronged? Prove it! You say you’re championship material? Show me! You say the only reason you’re not holding this belt right now is because of some grand conspiracy? Then step up and open the curtains and expose the pupper master!”
“You don’t get to snatch something out of my hands when my back is turned and pretend that makes you equal. You don’t get to ride a wave of drama and call it destiny. You don’t get to hijack my spotlight with your pity-parties and accusations and expect me to thank you for the attention. What you do get is what you’ve been begging for, whether you realized it or not. You get me. You get the Helluva Bottom Carter who has been listening to your voice for weeks and is really, really looking forward to hitting the mute button and shutting it off!”
“I’ve watched you talk yourself in circles. I’ve watched you try to rewrite the narrative so that every failure builds your legend instead of exposing your limits. But there’s a difference between a legend and a lie. A legend is built on something real. A lie is just a story repeated so many times that the person telling it can’t tell the difference anymore. You’re not a legend yet, Alexander. You’re just a man drowning in his own lies. So this is what happens now…”
“You finally step into the ring with the man you’ve tried to reduce to a prop in your ongoing drama. You stand across from the champion you tried to diminish by stealing what he earned. You come face-to-face with the reality that every conspiracy, every excuse,is just that. Words. Cannon fodder. Proof that you just never were good enough!”
“You come face-to-face with me. And when that bell rings, there isn’t going to be a hidden agenda pushing you down or holding you back. There won’t be any staff members not giving you what you ‘deserve’ or referees making bad calls to keep you down. There’s just going to be Alexander Raven, the man who thinks he’s owed the world, and Helluva Bottom Carter, the man who took his world away!”
“You want to prove you’re more than delusions and theft? Beat me. Non-title, clean, in the middle of the ring. Pin the champion in a match that doesn’t even threaten his reign and make everyone look at you differently. But we both know you won’t. Because deep down, beneath the theatrics and the speeches about fate, you know the truth. The reason you stole the belt instead of winning it. The reason you rewrite every loss as a grand injustice. The reason you stand on soapboxes instead of on pedestals.”
“You’re not owed this. In truth, you never were. And when we’re done, when the noise fades and you’re staring at the lights - again - I hope that for just for one second, that the silence in your head is loud enough for you to hear the truth. That the world isn’t against you, Alexander.”
“It just stopped believing your story.”
