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Supercard Roleplays / A Bed To Call His Own
« Last post by HBCarter on September 12, 2025, 05:18:54 PM »
Turnberry Towers - Las Vegas, Nevada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I don’t even know what to pick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fashion Show Mall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

El Segundo Sol

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

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

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

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

Kevin blinked and asked, “Florida?”

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

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

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

Carter added, “Or your school.”

Kevin asked “Wait, school?”

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

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

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

Kevin’s shoulders sank. “That sucks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carter tilted his head slightly. “Who?”

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

But Carter was already half-turned.

“Wait...!” Kevin hissed.

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

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

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

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

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



South Miami Beach

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

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

“Violent Conduct X...”

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Carter shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Carter’s tone shifted, quieter but firmer.

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

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


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

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

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


Carter paused, eyes narrowing with a bittersweet weight.

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

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

“I don’t quit.”


Carter glanced back to the water. Kevin suddenly leapt onto Miles’ shoulders, toppling the Englishman into the waters of the Atlantic. They came up, gasping and laughing like maniacs. Carter’s smile softened and he slowly removed his shades and stood up. He tossed his sunglasses aside, bolted down the sand, and dove into the waves to join Miles and Kevin. The camera lingered on the three of them splashing and laughing, all else all but forgotten.
62
Bring Him Home
Las Vegas, NV

The air inside the Clark County Family Court building felt different than anywhere else in Las Vegas. The casinos carried noise, neon, and life. The Strip never slept. But here, everything was subdued, muffled, the carpet was thick enough to swallow footsteps, and the wood paneling along the walls seemed designed to keep voices from rising too high.

Miles sat at the long oak table, Carter at his side. Both wore suits, Carter’s sharp navy one made him look polished and calm, while Miles tugged at his tie like it had been knotted too tight. Between them sat Alastair O’Malley, sleeves neat, posture perfect, eyes already locked on the judge’s bench with the same kind of steady patience he’d once used to protect Carter years ago.

Across the aisle sat a representative from Child Protective Services, a woman with a file thick enough to be a brick, full of Kevin’s entire history, schools, hospital records, the string of issues from his family’s issues to what happened recently. Miles tried not to look at it. Tried not to think about how every page was another reminder that Kevin had been shuffled around like cargo by his own family, rather than allow him to just be a kid.

At the far end of the bench, Detective LaSalle stood near the rail, in uniform but off-duty, hands folded behind his back. His presence wasn’t procedural, he was there because he wanted to be. Because he’d seen Miles and Carter step up when no one else had.

The bailiff called the room to order. Everyone rose as Judge Ramirez entered, a woman with sharp eyes that missed nothing. She sat, looked over the docket, and then gestured for everyone else to sit as well.

“Alright,” Judge Ramirez began, her tone brisk but not unkind, "We are here today to discuss the matter of minor Kevin Chapman, soon to be released from University Medical Center. The court must decide appropriate placement and long-term guardianship.”

Miles swallowed hard. His hands pressed flat against the polished wood of the table. He felt Carter’s fingers brush against his under the surface, grounding him.

Alastair stood, buttoning his jacket, his voice carrying smooth and clear, "Your Honor, I represent Miles Kasey-McKinney and Carter McKinney-Kasey. My clients are here today not out of obligation or convenience, but out of genuine concern for the welfare of Kevin Chapman. They are seeking full guardianship of Kevin, with the intent of providing a permanent, stable home for him.”

The CPS representative shifted, readying her notes. But before she could speak, Judge Ramirez lifted a hand, "And you have documentation of financial stability, living arrangements, and background checks?”

“Filed in advance with the court,” Alastair replied, sliding a packet across to the clerk, "Additionally, there is testimony from Detective LaSalle, who has firsthand knowledge of my clients’ history with Kevin and their demonstrated commitment to his well-being.”

Miles’ throat felt dry, but he kept his gaze steady. He wasn’t here to prove he could win a wrestling match. He was here to prove he could keep a promise, to a kid who’d never had anyone keep one before.

Judge Ramirez turned her eyes toward LaSalle, "Detective?”

LaSalle stepped forward, voice carrying the weight of a man who’d spent too many years testifying, "Your Honor, I’ve seen these two gentlemen in difficult circumstances. I’ve watched them advocate for this boy when others might’ve walked away, especially his own father. They didn’t have to get involved, but they did. Mr. Kasey-McKinney especially went to extra lengths to make sure of Kevin’s wellbeing. And from everything I’ve seen, they’re the only ones looking at Kevin as more than a case number. They see him as family.”

For the first time since the hearing began, the corners of Judge Ramirez’s mouth softened. She glanced toward Miles and Carter, then back down at her papers. Miles leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. Carter’s hand stayed on his, and for a brief second, despite the weight of the courtroom, the stiff suits, the looming uncertainty, it felt like maybe, just maybe, they were on the right path.

The CPS representative rose, smoothing the lapel of her blazer as she addressed the bench, "Your Honor, while I do not question the sincerity of Mr. and Mr. Kasey-McKinney, I must raise concerns. Kevin Chapman has endured repeated instability, from his mother landing herself in prison to his own father seemingly kicking him out of his house. Kevin has spent a lot of time back and forth and unsure where to go. And while these gentlemen have a relationship with him, they are not blood relatives, nor have they any prior legal responsibility. The Department recommends placement in a certified foster home while his situation is reassessed in a more formal capacity.”

Alastair stood almost immediately, his tone calm but sharp, "With respect, Your Honor, Kevin has been through more than enough cold transitions. Another foster placement only continues the cycle. What my clients offer is not just a roof or a paycheck, it’s consistency. Kevin knows them. He trusts them. He already has a bond within their household, and removing him from that would do more harm than good.”

Judge Ramirez tapped her pen against her notes, eyes flicking between the parties, "And what of their occupations? From what I see, both Mr. Kasey-McKinney and Mr. McKinney-Kasey have demanding careers that require travel.”

That was the question Miles had been bracing for. His pulse kicked up, but before Alastair could answer, he cleared his throat and stood. Carter’s hand brushed his sleeve in a silent ‘you sure?’ but Miles nodded.

Your Honor,” Miles began, voice steady, though he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, "It’s true, I wrestle. I travel. So does Carter, and together we’ve built our life around handling it. We’re not blind to what that means, and we’re not taking this lightly. But the difference is, Kevin wouldn’t just be another stop on our way. He’d be part of us. An actual part of our family.

He took a breath, locking eyes with the judge, "Kevin’s had people promise him stability before, and then rip it away. I won’t do that to him. WE won’t do that to him. Not now, not ever. We haven’t gone into the idea of any of this lightly. This isn’t about checking a box or looking good on paper. It’s about giving a kid who’s had every reason not to trust adults a reason to finally believe one of them. If that means rearranging our life? I’ll do it. No hesitation.

The room went still. Alastair didn’t add anything. He didn’t need to. Even the CPS rep shifted uncomfortably, as if she knew there wasn’t much to argue against the raw conviction in Miles’ voice.

Judge Ramirez studied him for a long moment, the silence heavy but not hostile. Finally, she leaned back in her chair, folding her hands, "I appreciate your candor, Mr. Kasey-McKinney. This court will take everything under advisement before making a ruling. For now, the matter is recessed until this afternoon.”

The gavel struck once, and just like that, the tension loosened enough for Miles to breathe again. Carter squeezed his hand under the table, whispering, “You killed it, babe.

The wait between sessions was torture. Miles and Carter walked the courthouse halls with Alastair, sipping burnt coffee from paper cups that did nothing to settle the nerves. Even Ms. Thang at home crossed Miles’ mind, how easy it was to worry about a cat, when the fate of a kid was hanging in the balance.

By the time the bailiff’s voice called them back into the courtroom, Miles’ tie felt like a noose again. Carter smoothed it down for him before they reentered, his small smile steady enough to lend courage.

When Judge Ramirez took her seat again, the silence fell heavy. Papers shuffled. A long pause. Then she spoke.

“This court has reviewed all submitted documents, as well as testimony from both counsel and Detective LaSalle, as well as a stellar letter of reference by a Dr. Gail Delacore. The decision before me is not one I take lightly. Kevin Chapman has experienced significant instability. His mother did attempt a contestment of this act but she has lost her parental rights after her criminal history. His father has, after contact, gave a differing opinion and has agreed that Kevin deserves a better life. The Department’s concerns regarding his placement are valid. However...”

Miles’ stomach flipped at the word.

“...It is also clear that Kevin has found stability, consistency, and genuine care with Mr. and Mr. Kasey-McKinney. Foster care may provide shelter, but it cannot replicate established trust and existing bonds. Removing him would likely do more harm than good and considering the disturbing circumstances that led to this very moment, I feel like right now the child in question deserves more than just a roof over their head.”

The CPS representative shifted, lips pressing together, but she didn’t interrupt.

Judge Ramirez continued, her eyes settling on Miles, then Carter, "Therefore, it is the ruling of this court that guardianship of Kevin Chapman be granted to Miles Kasey-McKinney and Carter McKinney-Kasey, effective immediately. Conditions will include regular welfare check-ins for the first six months, and continued demonstration of stability in employment and home life. Furthermore, seeing as your careers take you above and beyond this state, I am also granting you both permission to travel with him, but he must be enrolled in school and live a normal lifestyle. But as of today, Kevin Chapman is officially under your guardianship. Gentlemen, I wish you the best.”

The gavel struck.

For a moment, Miles couldn’t breathe. His lungs forgot how to work, his ears rang with the echo of the gavel. It was Carter’s hand again, warm, squeezing and grounding, that made the weight of the moment crash over him. It was a relief and triumph. The sudden realization that everything they’d been fighting for had just changed their lives.

Alastair allowed himself the smallest smile as he gathered his papers. LaSalle clapped a firm hand on Miles’ shoulder as they stood, his voice low but certain, "You did right by him.”

Miles swallowed hard, nodding. He glanced at Carter, who was already grinning through eyes that shimmered with unshed tears, "We did,” Carter said softly.

----

A Few Days Later
Turnberry Towers

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should have. Kevin’s backpack was slung over one shoulder, the strap digging into his collarbone, though he barely noticed. He stared at the mirrored wall of the cab, watching his own reflection the way someone might eye a stranger.

Miles stood at his side, keys in hand, Carter just behind them carrying one of the duffel bags stuffed with Kevin’s things from the hospital. They hadn’t said much on the way up. It wasn’t the kind of silence that pressed, it was the kind that waited.

When the doors slid open, Kevin followed them down the hall, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. He didn’t know what he expected when Miles unlocked the condo door and pushed it open. He remembered being here once before, except in his memory the edges blurred, the colors were wrong, and everything smelled like panic and hunger. Miles’ arm had been around him then, holding him upright, half-carrying him out of the motel and into this place that barely registered before he was ushered off to the hospital.

Now, walking into the condo, it was different.

Welcome home,” Carter said. His voice was easy, but Kevin caught the way he watched him closely, like he was waiting to see if the words landed.

The condo smelled faintly of coffee and something citrus, Carter’s doing, no doubt, given the dish towel slung over the back of a chair, that was the first thing he noticed. The second was the quiet hum of normal life, music faint from a speaker. Kevin stepped inside carefully, like the floor might vanish beneath him if he wasn’t cautious enough.

“This is...wow,” he said, eyes sweeping across the open living room. The wide windows poured early-afternoon light across the space, catching on the framed photos lining the shelves, Miles and Carter with friends, snapshots from shows, even a couple of goofy selfies in front of landmarks Kevin only half-recognized. It felt alive in a way most places he’d stayed never had, including the home that he had shared with his parents, one floor up.

Miles nudged the door shut behind them with his heel and slung the keys onto the counter, "Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together once, “Ten-cent tour. The living room here, TV’s way too big, that’s mostly my fault according to Carter.

Yes, but I’ve learned to live with it because it’s amazing for movies,” Carter interjected smoothly, dropping Kevin’s duffel bag by the couch.

Kitchen’s through there, laundry’s tucked away behind those doors, bedrooms down the hall. The bathroom’s yours but is also a guest bathroom. Try not to let Carter convince you that kale smoothies are food, and you’ll survive just fine.

Kevin’s mouth quirked at the corner, though he ducked his head quickly to hide it. The ease between them was something he wasn’t used to yet. Especially when he heard Carter shoot back something about Krispy Kreme Donuts being one of Miles’ basic 4 food groups.

They rounded into the kitchen, and before Kevin could take in the stainless appliances or the ridiculous lineup of coffee mugs hanging by hooks, a sharp, imperious ‘mrrrow!’ cut through the air. Perched on the kitchen peninsula, tail curled neatly around her paws, was a black-and-white tuxedo cat. Her whiskers twitched, her bright eyes narrowed as though appraising the newcomer.

And this,” Carter announced, “Is Ms. Thang. Official ruler of the condo.

She lets us stay here out of pity, we just pay the mortgage and give her treats.” Miles added, leaning casually against the counter.

Kevin froze for half a second under the cat’s piercing stare, then watched in surprise as Ms. Thang leapt gracefully down to the stool, then to the floor. She approached him with slow, deliberate steps, sniffed his sneakers, and finally brushed herself against his shin like she’d known him forever. Kevin crouched instinctively, reaching a tentative hand down. Ms. Thang leaned into the touch immediately, purring so loudly it vibrated against his palm.

Kevin blinked, the corner of his mouth tugging upward again, "Guess I pass inspection.”

Miles grinned, "That’s the toughest one in the house, right there. If she’s cool with you, the rest is a done deal. But let’s not tell LJ about this, or I will never hear the end of it.

Carter leaned an elbow on the counter, watching the two with a softer expression, "Oh I am so telling your brother.

Kevin didn’t say anything, just kept stroking the cat, his shoulders easing for the first time since they’d left the hospital.

----

Come Crashing Down
Miami, FL

Miles leaned forward on the steel chair, elbows resting on his knees, the faint glint of the ladder looming behind him. The air smelled faintly of dust and canvas, the quiet of the empty arena pressing in around him. For once, he didn’t fidget, he didn’t pace. He just spoke with the same focus he’d wrestled his own doubts into submission with.

Four men. One championship. One night in Miami.

And me? I’ve been waiting for this. Waiting to stand in the center of chaos...tables, ladders, chairs....and prove I don’t just belong here, I own it.

His gaze flicked upward to the rafters, where in a few days the Internet Championship would hang.

Let’s start our little Ted Talk where we will begin discussing the one and only ‘Bulldog’ Bill Barnhart.

The man I already beat to earn my way into this match. The man I left behind when I punched my ticket to Violent Conduct. And yet, here you are, Billy. You’re in this match, not because you earned it, not because you fought your way in, but because I made it happen.

Miles let the words linger, a sharp smirk cutting across his face.

Yeah, everyone was shocked when I went to SCW General Manager Evelyn Hall. Everyone thought, ‘Why in the world would Miles do that? Why give Bill another chance?’ And the truth is simple, because I’m not afraid of you. Because I wanted you in this match. Because Violent Conduct seems incomplete without you in it, Billy Boy.

You see, Alex Jones and Eddie Lyons were just handed their spots, and rightfully so because they fucking deserved it...well maybe Eddie more than Alex but we’ll cross and burn that particular bridge when we get to it. Me? I had to fight. And you, Bill, you were supposed to be finished. Out of the picture. But I couldn’t stomach the idea of people whispering that Miles only got through because he had it easy. So I made it fair. I made sure you got in, too.

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the barricade, eyes narrowing.

But here’s the thing, Bill. You should be thanking me. You should be on your knees, grateful that I even spoke up for you to give you this shot. Because deep down, you know the truth, without me, you’d be at home, holding Bea’s purse while shopping, watching this on TV with your dog.

And come Violent Conduct? That’s exactly where you’ll end up again. Because the same way I put you down once, I’ll do it again, only this time, there won’t be any appeals. There won’t be any second chances. Just tables breaking under your weight and me climbing the ladder while you wonder why you thought you could still hang with the future of this division.

Miles pushed back from the barricade, that sharp grin returning.

I gave you this spot, Bill. But I’ll be damned if I’m giving you the championship.

Miles smirked faintly, his jaw setting.

Miles exhaled slowly, slowly making his way to the six sided ring, resting his forearms on the canvas, his gaze somewhere far off, as though he could already see the chaos of ladders and tables waiting in Miami. When he spoke, his tone was steady, not mocking, not cruel, but deliberate.

Eddie Lyons. Now here’s the part where I have to tell some hard truths to a man I actually respect.

You’re a fighter, Eddie. You’re the kind of guy who doesn’t break no matter how many times the world tries to bend you. And believe me, I see that. I respect it. You’ve been waiting for that moment — that crack in the glass ceiling where you finally get to smash through and say, ‘I made it. This is my time.’

And trust me, man, I get it. I know what it’s like to be thirsty for that shot, to want it so bad that it keeps you awake at night. That feeling of being on the cusp, always right there, and the universe pulling it back out of reach. Hell, you’re a new dad now, and I know that adds fire to everything you do. You want to hold that championship up high, not just for you, but for your family. You want to be able to tell your kid that you fought, you bled, and you won.

Miles shook his head slowly, almost regretfully, his lips pressing into a thin line.

But here’s the thing, Eddie, I’ve been waiting too, I’ve been waiting since I lost the fucking thing. And the truth is, the world doesn’t care how long you’ve waited. The Internet Championship isn’t a charity. It isn’t a prize you get for enduring the most disappointment. It’s a fight, and when the dust settles, only one of us is walking away with that belt.

And as much as I admire your fight, as much as I respect that you don’t crack under pressure, in fact you are probably the most level headed guy in the entire SCW lockerroom and that is amazing in of itself considering that most of us belong locked up in a rubber room with nothing but the jackets that help you hug yourself, hand puppets and pingpong tables. BUT...I’m here to tell you it won’t be you. Not in Miami. Not at Violent Conduct. You’ve been waiting, Eddie. You have been waiting for so long, but so have I. And I’m done waiting.

So when you look up from that mat, with the wreckage of ladders and tables all around you, and you see me standing at the top with the Internet Championship in my hands, don’t take it as disrespect. Take it as the reality. Because I know you’ll keep fighting. You always do. But this time, it’s my ceiling that’s shattering. Not yours.

Miles tapped the rope with his palm and let a small, sympathetic smirk cross his face.

Somebody’s gotta be the bearer of bad news. Guess it’s me.

The name that came next pulled a different weight into his voice.

Miles’ jaw tightened as he straightened, no longer leaning against the canvas, his voice carrying more bite now.

Alex Jones. Now this one’s different.

See, Bill’s a relic, Eddie’s a fighter I can respect...but you, Alex? You were supposed to be a mentor. One of the guys who was there when I came into Wolfslair. You ARE Wolfslair....you were Wolfslair. One of the ones who told me to dig deeper, push harder, keep going when I felt like I had nothing left. I listened. I did the work. I bled for this business, and I carried those lessons with me everywhere I went.

And now here we are, years later, and I get to look across the ring at you...and realize how far you’ve fallen.

Because let’s be real, Alex, you’ve been coasting on reputation for a long time. Especially since Carter defeated you and kicked your ass back down the ladder. You still strut around like you’re untouchable, like the name alone carries weight. Picking the pettiest of fucking fights because you know damn well there isn’t a damn soul that fears the figure you have become. But here’s the truth: Wolfslair built monsters, killers, champions, and you? You became the guy clinging to past glories while everyone else kept moving forward. You taught us to never settle and yet here you are, settled. And you blew up your entire family for absolutely no fucking reason.

You want to look at me like I’m still that kid, green and wide-eyed, hoping one day to earn your nod of approval? You want to pretend you’re still that towering figure above me? Nah, not anymore. That dynamic died the moment I realized I didn’t need your approval to stand on my own two feet. That I didn’t need you, period.

So here’s the reality check: in Miami, when that bell rings, I’m not your student. I’m not your underling. I’m the guy who’s about to run straight through you.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real lesson. That no matter how many kids you try to preach to, no matter how much you want to puff your chest out like you’re still the big bad wolf of this place, sooner or later one of those students grows up, sharpens his teeth, and comes back to take a bite out of you.

That’s what’s waiting for you in Miami, Alex. Not respect. Not gratitude. Just reality. And the reality is, you’re not standing at the top of the mountain anymore. You’re standing in my way. And I don’t plan on asking permission to move you.

Miles smirked, though there was no warmth behind it, it was just steel.

You taught me well enough, Alex, hell I would say maybe too well. Now you get to see what happens when the student finally surpasses the teacher.

The measuring stick. The name people whisper when they talk about what this company once was, what it still can be. A man who’s seen it all, done it all, and can still back it up. Do NOT misunderstand me...I don’t take that lightly, Alex. I don’t dismiss it. Hell, part of me has been waiting for this fight, because if I want to prove I’m ready to carry this championship, standing across from you is the test.

But here’s the truth: legends fade, their shine dulls and their aura cracks when the new blood refuses to bow. And you should know as well as anyone, I’m not one to knee to anyonel. I’m not here to shake your hand and say, ‘thank you for paving the way.’ I’m here to show you the way forward doesn’t belong to you anymore, it belongs to me.

Miles stood then, dragging the chair back with a scrape against the floor. His eyes went back up, locking on the invisible belt waiting in the air.

TLC matches aren’t about luck and they’re sure as fuck not about nostalgia. They’re about who’s willing to put their body through hell, climb that ladder, and grab their destiny.

Barnhart, Eddie, Alex, you’re all obstacles that stand in my way to get back to what I should have never lost. You are the tough ones, the dangerous ones. But at Violent Conduct X, I’m not walking into Miami haunted, or hesitant, or second-guessing myself anymore. I promised I was done living in fear.

And when that championship comes down into my hands, you’ll all know it wasn't a chance, it wasn’t luck.

It was inevitable.

He stepped back from the canvas and let the silence hang for a heartbeat, letting everything he'd said settle in the stale arena air. The ladder behind him glittered like a promise; the empty seats felt like the lungs of a city waiting to exhale. He fixed his gaze on that imaginary belt dangling over the ring in Miami and then looked up, not at the ceiling, but at the future.

Listen,” he said, calm and certain now, “This isn’t personal theater. It’s not about settling scores with old ghosts or collecting trophies for the highlight reel. It’s about one simple thing: who’s willing to hurt the most to hold what’s theirs.

He paced slowly, each step measured, "Barnhart, thanks for the convenience of your stubbornness. Eddie, respect, always, but respect doesn’t hand you a belt. And Alex...you were a teacher once. You helped make me. Funny how the lesson comes full circle.” A short laugh escaped him, "All three of you taught me something. You taught me how to beat you.

Miles stopped in the center of the ring, palms flat against the cool canvas. The words that followed were quieter, but they landed like iron.

I promised myself, on my birthday, that I was done letting the past tell me who I could be. No more ghosts and no more excuses. I’m not climbing because I want the belt for the picture or the retweets. I’m climbing because I earned the right to be the one who gets to decide what comes next for me. For my life. For the people I love.

He drew in a breath, let it out like a bell toll, "Tables break, ladders bend, chairs shatter. Bodies will be bruised and clever plans will fail. But when the scrap metal sings and the dust hangs in the Miami air, one hand will close around that championship. One name will be shouted into a thousand phones and a thousand timelines. One man will walk out of Violent Conduct X different from the way he walked in.

Miles looked at them all with the flat, certain smile of someone who’d already rehearsed victory a thousand times in his head, "That man is me. It’s inevitable.
63
Supercard Roleplays / The Lone Lyon
« Last post by Vincent Lyons Jr on September 12, 2025, 12:15:17 PM »
She didn't even notice he had been sitting in the same bar for a while back in one of the dark corners. Vincent watched his sister sip her margarita with his own rum and coke in hand and then that song came on.

He knew what was going to happen, he had seen it before and on cue there she was dancing like an imbecile in the middle of the dance floor to Dancing Queen by ABBA.

He laughed to himself and sipped his rum and coke. She looked like a complete idiot. This is why she needed him, he would have prevented her from making a fool of herself like this.

But what was this? She was dragging some greasy looking fatboy onto the dance floor with her.

Vincent growled to himself. A small part of him called him to stomp over there and take care of this boy but he didn't. He knew Victoria well enough to know what was happening, this was to be his replacement. His sister always needed someone she could control by her side, it made her feel powerful and since he had broken free of her spell she was casting her siren song on someone else.

He slammed down the rest of his drink, left some money on the table and  made his exit onto the streets of South Beach.

It wasn't just watching Victoria dance with whoever that was, it was the song as well,  it reminded him that he was still her twin and had similar traits and he should probably get out of there before “Play That Funky Music” starts playing.

He threw his hoodie up and walked along the boardwalk, perhaps it was for the best Victoria had found a new companion.  Even better it wasn't him, all his life she had been the one surely in control but not anymore he was on his own and unlike the rest of them he didn't need anybody.

It seemed like everybody needed their companions around.  LJ and Alexandra, Miles and Carter, Logan and Brooke.

Others had their companions but they kept them at home. Bella and Mal, Alex Jones and Aaron Asphyxia, there was Eddie and his wife Sabrina.

No really, there they were. Vincent could see them through a window enjoying ice cream in some little ice cream shop along the boardwalk.

He sighed and kept walking. Everybody seemed to have a companion, except for him and he preferred it that way It meant he could do whatever he wanted he didn't have somebody that he needed to impress or that would tell him what to do and when to do it.

He had been isolated on the island once and now he was isolated back home. It felt right. Who were they to judge him?  were they to tell him what to do? They live their lives needing another person. He had no concern for any other person except Vincent Lyons Jr.

And truth be told he did have a companion.

His Roulette Championship, that was the only companion worth anything because that gave him power. That championship meant no matter what anybody said he was important. He was needed, and the fact that he was selected as champion over everybody else meant he was The Chosen.

And they thought they could take it from him, Logan, and Liam. Logan felt entitled as a former champion who felt ripped off, and Liam was just looking for some sort of validation or attention.

But they wouldn't do it. he would keep his Roulette Championship by his side. His companion, and he would do it all by himself.

All by himself.


__________

Darkness. That's all the camera picks up when it opens. We can hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching and the voice of Vincent Lyons Jr.

“You going to cry more Logan?” he said “Because we're all sick and tired of you crying for weeks about how Guy with a cape snuck in and stole the belt from you and you never got your fair shot back blah blah blah well guess what? This is it.”

He emerges from the darkness dimly lit by whatever lights still seeps through.

“This is where you're crying comes to an end.” he said “Because now you'll have no excuses. You've got what you wanted, you've got your opportunity and you're going to have to deal with the consequences when you lose and realize that it was you who were the fluke champion all along, not me. I'm the chosen champion”

He looks proudly at the Roulette championship on his shoulder as it shines among the darkness.

“So many choices Mr. Underwood could have made.” Vincent said. “He could have the next contender which was me go against the previous champion for a vacated title which would have been you but he didn't. Tournaments are always an option but he didn't go that route. He chose me as a champion and you know what really proves they wanted me as a champion?”

He pauses with a smirk on his face.

“Because he didn't hand shit to my cousin Eddie.” said Vincent “You think that's all just about my last name but if it was,  then why is Eddie Lyons not standing before you as the Internet Champion? Why is he being forced to earn it in a four way match?”

Vincent pauses for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

“This company knows that I am the true star of the Lyons family.” Vincent said “It's about me, not who my family is. You think my sister's reign has something to do with me becoming champion? How stupid are you Logan?”

Vincent laughs to himself.

“I got sick of everybody's disgusting comments you know.” he said “About me being too close to my sister, about how I chose to protect her because she was my family. I was just trying to be a good brother who cared for his sister and I got ridiculed and laughed at for it. So I forced myself to break free from her.”

He pauses.

“That's when I realized she wasn't controlling me.” Vincent said “She was just keeping me under control. Making sure my true nature didn't come out, but Victoria has no power over me anymore, and I'm free to do whatever I want, to whomever I want, however I want.”

He laughs to himself again.

“Was I really trying to murder you?” Vincent said “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. But now whenever you look into my eyes, you'll remember. You'll remember how I put the fear of god in you, and you'll remember how far I'm willing to go to keep this championship.”

He glares intensely at the camera.

“And you Brooke you little bitch.” Vincent said “You really think this company should have intergender violence? Because that's the only thing protecting you from somebody like me. They let up restrictions on intergender violence and I promise you and your sister are not safe. So accept your restrictions and be glad there's protections in place for you.”

He scowls at the camera with a quiver of his lip.

“You want some advice Logan?” Vincent said “You should drop the ol’ ball and chain because all that weight is going to do is hold you back. I was able to cut off my sister, the dead weight that was holding me back. You would be wise to cut your own dead weight out of your life.”

He pauses and widens his eyes.

"Don't let her control you." Vincent said "Don't let either of those dimwitted sisters tell you what to do. Don't you tell me they don't either because a few weeks ago when you accepted this challenge to be in the match you marched right up to me, full of piss and vinegar. Yeah you still had to tell Brooke that you needed to speak, as if you needed her permission to talk. Not only that but Marissa insulted you right in front of your face, and all you could muster was ‘quiet you’? Then in Cyprus, you allowed them to make bets on who's going to take care of you in the morning,  because you can't take care of yourself. You're pathetic Logan and you don't deserve this championship.”

He slightly adjusts the championship on his shoulder as he speaks of it.

“And you want me to kneel before your so-called Empire?” Vincent said with a laugh “Let me make one thing clear Logan I kneel before no man especially not one that's such a pussy foot like you. Also in case you're too stupid to figure it out, my offer for a drink has been rescinded. What I saw in Cyprus showed me you can't handle your alcohol  and you certainly couldn't keep up with someone like me. You think I'm afraid to embrace oblivion? Logan I welcome chaos, I welcome oblivion.”

He pauses shortly.

“Everybody wants me to go to hell anyway for what I did to you.” Vincent said “And you know what I welcome it I'll pack my shit and I'll go because all that's doing is putting me back in my element. I thrive in the hellfire, I thrive in chaos and I thrive in oblivion. You are not going to walk out of Violent Conduct as the roulette champion Logan, in fact you might not even walk out.”

He exhales heavily.

“Of course they're still you Liam…” Vincent said “Easily the worst excuse for a cop I've ever seen. I guess the force is just taking anybody these days aren't they? Maybe you're just the guy they send when I call 1-800-Rent-A-Cop.”

He smirks.

“Like I told you.” he said “If you're such a good cop, where were you when I supposedly was committing an attempted murder? Too lazy because you were off duty? I thought you blue boys were technically always on duty, but when it comes to SCW, you ignore crimes left and right. I had to have the security escort me out the building after my “attempted murder” on Logan Hunter, because you're not man enough to do your job are you?”

He glares into the camera

“You're an afterthought Liam.” said Vincent “Easily forgettable, I damn near forgot you're even in this match. Everyone knows you're just a third wheel in this little war between Logan and myself. That's because you have no presence. No presents whatsoever you're just some guy who happens to be a cop in his other life. There is nothing interesting about you Liam.”

Vincent exhales.

“At least Logan has some sort of personality.” said Vincent "But your personality is as dry as Brooke's lady parts when Logan tries to make love to her.”

He snickers.

“You should consider yourself lucky to be here.” said Vincent “Lucky I was kind enough to issue an open challenge to the entire roster. A challenge you were stupid enough to accept. You chose to enter my Lions Den and get in the ring with me, but you failed to realize that when you enter my Lions Den you can go in, but there's no getting out.”

He has a sinister gaze as he looks into the camera.

“Any criminal you put away pale in comparison to me.” said Vincent maybe “That's why you didn't stop my assault on Logan, because you know there's no way you can actually stop me so you chose not to embarrass yourself. I'm sure you're planning out some sneaky way to take my championship, but it won't work. Something awakened in me when I held Logan under that water, something that's been lying dormant for years, and now that it's out I truly feel like myself, now intend to make this entire roster pay for their sins.”

He smirks again.

“The thing is Liam, you're in my jurisdiction and you have no authority here.” he said "You are going to play by my rules. I'm the one in charge now, not you. You just continue begging to get noticed among your superiors, so you know what? I'm going to make sure they notice you, they're going to notice every single thing I do to you and they will remember you. Not for anything you did but for the pain and suffering I inflicted upon you.”

He laughs to himself again.

“The two of you are nothing more than victims to me.” he said “Logan it's time to put it into your excuses, and your whining. It's really getting old. You blame everybody except yourself for your failures, if you crashed a plane you'd probably blame the road conditions. You enjoy playing the victim, and I'll be waiting to see what excuse you make when I walk out still SCW Roulette Champion.”

He pauses.

“And you Liam.” he said. “Well, you're just lucky to be here aren't you? Or perhaps  unlucky given the situation you've chosen to be in. At the end of the day you have nobody to blame but yourself for what happens to you Liam, because you wanted this. You wanted in on this match, you could have ignored my challenge like the rest of them did. But you wanted to be a tough guy, so it's time to see how tough you really are. Because at the end of the day, whether you're carrying your badge or not I will hurt you if you stand in my way. There is nothing you can do to stop me from walking out at Violent Conduct still SCW Roulette Champion.”

He holds his championship out in front of the camera.

“Look closely at this championship boys.” he said “Because it's the closest you're ever going to get to it. I am the truth that nobody can deny. The SCW roulette champion, The chosen SCW roulette champion.  Nobody wants either of you, they want me and I'm going to give them what they want at Violent Conduct when I keep this championship.”

He rests the championship back on his shoulder.

“This is the end for both of you.” he said “The end of Logan, and his incessant whining and the end of Liam and his need to feel important. I am Vincent Lyons Jr., your SCW Roulette Champion and I am The Chosen.”

He smiles a sinisterly arrogant grin into the camera as everything faded to black.

__________

Vincent enjoyed the night because it was normally quiet but this was Miami and even in the late hours of the night it had a pulse that refused to stop.

Hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, Vincent had walked through all of it without paying much attention,  he wasn't there for any of the music, or late night crowds spilling onto the streets. He just was just there to wander, and he eventually wandered into a small park tucked between the restaurants and hotels.

It was as quiet as it was going to get. He sat on a beach beneath a couple of palm trees, and just observed.

He observed people drifting by on the path, in pairs or in groups, but none of them alone. He rolled his eyes at some man who spun his female companion in a clumsy circle as both of them nearly stumbled to the ground laughing together.

Ridiculous. They look like children, they don't even care who sees them spinning and stumbling like fools in the street?

You never needed any of that. They're just chasing scraps of a connection so they can pretend it makes them whole, but all it does is make them pathetic. But not you, you don't need anyone to tell you who you are.

He shifted on the bench a bit, getting himself a little more comfortable, his eyes drifting around the area.

Another group of tourists passed holding plastic cups in their hand, one of them was loudly singing off key as the others happily clapped along.

Idiots. It's like they don't even care how foolish they look. These are the type of people that Logan Hunter would mill about with. Fools. All of them fools. But they had each other. Vincent only himself.

And there had been times when he thought about calling Victoria or even Eddie but he didn't. He knew what would happen and he didn't need their pity.

It's better this way nobody to answer to nobody to impress and nobody to drag you down.

Everybody can have their companions and have their fun. Vincent was a man of action he didn't need another voice telling him he was doing wrong he was a champion now and he only answered to himself.

The need for a companion is a sign of weakness. You need no companion, you never did. You are the star of the show,  and if that makes the rest of them mad then they can deal with it because you are the chosen and they are all living in your world now.

Liam and Logan will only be the beginning. The beginning of a long reign of terror unlike any ever seen.  An uncontrollable fury like no other. They need to be afraid, they need to be very afraid. The most violent Roulette Championship reign has only just begun.

Vincent stood up and sighed, continuing to walk down the path. He was his own man now and he was ready to defend his championship at any cost. He didn't need a companion to help get him there, just himself, his thoughts, his championship, and whatever silence lingered in between.

And to Vincent that was perfect
.

_________
64
Supercard Roleplays / Re: HBCARTER (c) v AIDEN REYNOLDS - I QUIT - WORLD TITLE
« Last post by Aiden Reynolds on September 12, 2025, 06:01:16 AM »
Legacy

The sound of the Wolfslair gym was the same as it always was: weights hitting the ground with a dull thud, the echo of sneakers squeaking against the mat, the occasional barked instruction from one of the trainers. For most people it was just noise. For Aiden Reynolds, though, every clang and every shout was a reminder of where he stood and how far he still had to go.

He sat on the bench, towel draped over his shoulders, chest heaving after another brutal set of drills. Sweat rolled down his arms in steady rivulets, pooling at his elbows before dripping to the mat below. He wasn’t the strongest in the room. He wasn’t the fastest. And if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t even the most technically gifted.

But he was the one with the opportunity.

That thought was both a blessing and a curse.

Aiden’s eyes drifted across the gym, taking in the familiar faces. Alex Jones was there, methodically working on his striking, his movements precise and controlled like a man who had done this for decades. Austin James Mercer was tearing through heavy-bag drills, every punch sounding like a shotgun blast, his sheer size and power impossible to ignore. And in the corner, Alicia Lukas was watching film, eyes narrowed, mind ticking a hundred miles an hour as she dissected the mistakes of others to make herself sharper.

Wolfslair. Legends. Champions. People Aiden had matured watching, admiring, and, if he was honest, idolizing.

And then there was him, the joker, the Aussie with the laid-back grin and a voice that always seemed to carry through the locker room. He had always been “fun Aiden,” the guy who lightened the mood, who cracked jokes before matches and made the grind a little easier for everyone else.

But now he was supposed to be something else.

Now he was supposed to be the future world champion.

Aiden leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. The towel slipped from his shoulders and landed on the floor, but he didn’t notice. His eyes were locked on the reflection in the far mirror, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t recognize the man staring back.

Was that a contender? Was that a champion? Or was it just Aiden Reynolds, the eternal supporting act to Wolfslair’s headliners? “You alright, Aus?”

Alex’s voice broke his thoughts. He stood nearby, sweat dripping from his brow, his long hair clinging to his face. He looked down at Aiden with a raised eyebrow, clearly reading the conflict on his features.

“Yeah mate… just thinkin’.”

“Don’t think too much. You’ll twist yourself up. Trust me, I’ve been there. And we’re counting on you.” Alex gave him a quick nod before turning back to his own work, leaving Aiden with nothing but his thoughts again. He let out a long breath.

Later that night, Aiden found himself sitting in his car in the driveway, engine off, headlights dimming. The house was lit warmly from the inside. Through the window he could see Kallie, her hand resting on her growing stomach as she laughed at something on the television. Their daughter was curled up beside her, tiny hands clutching a stuffed kangaroo.

It should have been the easiest thing in the world to open the car door, walk inside, and be with them. To let the warmth of his family wash away the doubts of the day.

But instead, Aiden sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at the glow of the house like it was a world he didn’t quite belong to.

Because in his mind, he was already somewhere else, already in the ring, already feeling the roar of the crowd and the crushing weight of expectation. Already fighting not just his opponent but the shadows of every Wolfslair champion who came before him.

Alex Jones. Austin James Mercer. Alicia Lukas. Finn Whelan. Names carved into history. And now it was supposed to be him.

But what if he wasn’t good enough?

What if he was just a placeholder, a name that would be forgotten when the next true Wolfslair legend came along?

Aiden slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the sound loud in the quiet night. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, before finally forcing himself out of the car and into the house.

The following day, he stood in the empty ring after everyone else but he and Austin had gone. The gym lights cast long shadows across the canvas, and Aiden traced the outline of the ropes with his fingertips. Austin stood behind him, tilting his head and watching the young Australian star.

“You ever feel like you’re just… pretending?” he muttered to himself. His voice echoed faintly in the silence. “Like everyone thinks you’re ready for something, but deep down you know you’re still the same kid who joked his way through the hard stuff because it was easier than admitting you were scared?”

He climbed through the ropes and sat in the corner, back against the turnbuckles, staring up at the ceiling.

“That’s me. That’s Aiden Reynolds. The fun one. The clown. The guy who can wrestle his ass off but never takes anything too seriously. That’s what they expect. But now… now they want me to be serious. To be a world champion. To carry Wolfslair’s name on my back like it’s some sacred responsibility. And I don’t know if I can do it.” His fists clenched.

“I don’t know if I even want to do it for them. Maybe I want to do it for me. Maybe I’m sick of being ‘the next Alex’ or ‘the next Austin’… no offence. I don’t want to be the next anyone. I want to be the first me.” Aiden pushed himself up, pacing across the ring now, his voice growing louder, more determined.

“Because if I win that world championship, it won’t be because Wolfslair told me I could. It won’t be because I’m some legacy project. It’ll be because I fought for it. Because I earned it. Because I proved that Aiden Reynolds is not just the funny Aussie sidekick. I proved that I can carry this company, this division, this championship, on my own bloody shoulders.” He stopped in the middle of the ring, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face even though he hadn’t been training. His words hung in the air like a challenge, not just to his future opponent but to himself.

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, he felt a flicker of clarity.

Maybe the shadows of Wolfslair would always be there. Maybe people would always compare him to Alex, Austin, Alicia, and Finn. But maybe that wasn’t a curse. Maybe that was the fuel he needed to finally step out of their shadows and into his own light. “I’m not just carrying their shadows anymore. I’m carving my own name. And when the dust settles, when the final bell rings, everyone is going to know exactly who the hell Aiden Reynolds is.”

The silence of the gym swallowed his words, but in his chest, the fire burned hotter than ever. Standing behind him, Austin was stoic and quiet, hearing Aiden unburden himself. Ending that moment, he decided to say two simple words that would help.

”You’re ready.”

Not a bad guy

”This is the biggest opportunity of my life….”

It was a simple statement. Aiden was right. This was the biggest moment of his career.

”I don’t think I’m fully understanding the gravity of the situation. I’ve won championships before. Hell, I’ve won world championships before. But never one this big. SCW is a company that dwarfs all the other ones I’ve been in. I knew the second I walked into this company that it was going to be a challenge to climb to the top — more so than other companies. And it has been a struggle. I haven’t been dominant, I haven’t been remarkable. I’ve been… I dunno…”

“Average.”

“I can be honest with myself: for every dominant win, like the tag match going into this event, I’ve had humiliating losses or wins that I just scraped by in. But with every win and every loss I have always kept my eyes on the goal. The goal has always been to try and become the SCW world champion. That should be everyone’s goal. In the Bombshell’s division you should be going for that world championship; in the male division you should be doing the same thing. Other championships are nice and getting big wins is great, but if you’re not in this to be the champion, to be the best in the world, then what are you doing?”

“I just don’t get some people.”

“So, I’ve been chasing that championship since I got here. Following in the footsteps of those who came before. This company has been at the top of its game for a long time, and being a part of it is amazing. Being able to say that I’ve even got to this point is an accomplishment. Going into one of the main events of a huge supercard like Violent Conduct and going for the world championship of this company is something that not everyone gets to do. And not everyone should get to do it. Not everyone should be able to fight for a world championship. It should only be the best of the best. But in the past some championship opportunities have been given away in this company like participation trophies. And that’s bullshit.”


Aiden chuckled to himself and raised his finger to his chin, tapping on the end of it a few times thoughtfully before continuing.

”But, getting to this point I’ve sat and done some things that many people would think are out of character for me. But are they really? I’ve spoken a lot about the perception that people have had of me. And a large part of it is a massive miscommunication. I can be a joker, I can be someone who entertains those around me. I can make people laugh and sometimes I can be very flippant with my answers and my attitude. But that wasn’t getting me anywhere because I didn’t take anything seriously. I still have a sense of humour, I still make people laugh, but this — this business and this life — deserves to be treated with respect and given all of my attention.”

“And now I’m in an interesting position. Coming from where I come from there’s a lot of expectation and pressure put on my shoulders. Wolfslair is both a huge advantage and a massive albatross. It helps me in ways that people can’t even imagine but also starts to drag me down because of that expectation. Coming from a gym that still features Alex Jones, Austin James Mercer, Alicia Lukas, Finn Whelan… and that is just the three members that have won the world championship in SCW. I’m not counting the world champions in other promotions. All the other championships that everyone else has been able to win.”

“That amount of pressure does one of two things. Either it makes you crumble like a rock, or it turns you into a diamond.”

“But I’m sick of being called the next Alex or the next Austin. I’m just me. And being in their shadows can be cold and uninviting. I’m here for my legacy, for my family. I need to become world champion and take that championship home to my son, to my pregnant wife. Just show my family back in Australia that packing up and moving halfway around the world was not a mistake but a choice. A conscious choice to make sure that I can follow my dreams. And that’s what this is all about: following your dreams and believing in yourself — something that knows damn well. And they realise the problem. I’m not facing some arrogant douchebag who thinks that they are the greatest in the world. I’m facing someone who is keenly aware of the stakes. And that’s what makes Carter the most dangerous world champion this company has ever seen.”


Aiden took a deep breath and smiled before shaking his head.

”Carter, so many believe that you are a fluke of a champion. That you beat Alex and that’s all it was. Just a fluke. A bad day for a guy who is a legend and a good day for someone who has always struggled to break through the glass ceiling above him. But I know better. I know that you’ve always had it in you to be a world champion, and the fact is that you don’t take it for granted. You don’t take it for granted because you know how special this is. You know how hard you’ve had to work. Being a champion and rising to the top doesn’t come easy for you. You look at people like Ferris, Alex, Austin, Finn, J2H…”

“It came natural to all of them. You look at the female division, Amber Ryan, Alicia, Kayla, Roxi…”

“They all found winning and dominating as natural as breathing. But that’s not you, Carter. And don’t take this as a slight on you or anything like that. I’m not trying to degrade you. I’m not trying to say that you haven’t earned where you are, but what I am trying to say is the fact that it doesn’t come naturally to you and you’ve had to work so hard means that you are dangerous. You are dangerous because you have the kind of heart and soul that many wish they had and cannot learn. You can train and get faster and stronger and you can learn how to get in and out of different submission holds and you can do everything you can to make yourself tough and immune to certain things, but something that cannot be taught is heart. And you have it in spades, buddy.”

“But here’s the thing…”

“I have that too…”

“Look, I know that physically I’m more imposing than you. I’m bigger than you, I’m stronger than you, faster than you; people look at me and they have a few guesses of what I do for a profession and ‘professional wrestler’ is usually on that list. They look at you and they don’t see that. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not an underdog too. And I’m not going to underestimate you. Everyone at Wolfslair keeps telling me over and over again that you should be easy to beat. Alex has been crowing about how he beat you one on one and how I should be able to do it. But it’s never that simple.”


Aiden looked down and took a deep breath before pushing it back out and folding his arms over his chest.

”So at Violent Conduct I can promise you this, Carter. I’m gonna do everything that I can to beat you. I’m gonna do everything I can to take that championship from you in our match. And I understand it’s not going to be easy. After all, it’s an I Quit match. One of us has to not just submit but utter the words, ‘I quit.’ But I’m gonna give you everything that I have. I’m gonna leave it all in the ring and I’m going to force you to hurt me in ways that you never thought possible. That is the only way you are going to beat me. And to be completely honest with you, that’s what you deserve. You deserve me at my best and you deserve me giving you everything.”

“And truthfully, that championship in this company deserves that. It deserves a champion who is going to fight for it and that’s what you have done. And that’s what I need to do. So there you go, Carter, you’re getting everything I have; you’re getting me at my best. No matter what happens, no excuses, no bullshit. If you beat me, you know damn well it’s because you were the better man. But if I beat you? I expect the same thing. See you Sunday, mate.”
65
Supercard Roleplays / Re: SELEANA ZDUNICH v CRYSTAL CALDWELL - MUD PIT
« Last post by Seleana Zdunich on September 11, 2025, 10:04:34 PM »
"And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you sayin'
You would never break the chain"

Off-Camera

Living Room
Apartment of Crystal Hilton
Las Vegas, Nevada
Monday, September 1, 2025
5:01 AM PDT





Packing.

This was not what Seleana Zdunich thought she'd be doing right now. Packing for a quick trip to South Beach for a show was one thing. This was something else entirely.

This was catastrophic change packing, possibly forever.

Seleana was already upset that her marriage was probably over, but looking down the barrel of being homeless and having to tell the children that their stability was going away because she was moving out of the apartment Aurora had called home for the last six years or so and who knew where she was going or where the children were gonna be since Alexandra Diamond" Caldwell was probably not staying here either.

Alexandra "Diamond" Caldwell: Are you sure about this?

Seleana sighs sadly.

Seleana Zdunich: She say she want nothing to do with me and then made certain I was first out of the battle royale.

The tears start up fresh again.

Seleana Zdunich: She dump me.

Looking down, Seleana's hands come up to her face.

Seleana Zdunich: What did I do?
She looks up slightly, moving her gaze to Diamond.

Seleana Zdunich: What did I do wrong?

She starts to shake trying to hold back the torrent.

Seleana Zdunich: Why she no want me anymore, Alex?

Diamond steps up to the Swedish woman and grabs a hold of her, allowing Seleana to bury her face onto the black woman's shoulder and sob profusely.

Alexandra "Diamond" Caldwell: I don't…

Before she can finish the thought, the children, Aurora and Elijah, appear at the doorway, bags in hand.

Aurora Zdunich: We're ready, Mommy.

Seleana looks up at the children and almost starts sobbing harder, the guilt and shame washing over her. Diamond hugs her closer as the children walk up and join the embrace. Seleana allows herself to accept the family hug and returns it as well. She nods to the kids.

Seleana Zdunich: You have chosen to come with me?

Both Aurora and Elijah nod and Seleana hugs them tightly, lovingly.

Seleana Zdunich: Jag älskar er båda.





Off-Camera

Driveway Home of Chiaki Sanada and Jane Harper
San Clemente, California
Monday, September 1, 2025
5:01 PM PDT






This was going to be strange regardless. Chiaki "Chi Chi" Sanada and Jane "Hammer" Harper had invited Seleana and her kids to stay at their home the second they'd heard what happened on Friday in Cancun.

They probably would have offered faster if they'd heard about the near fistfight in Las Vegas as Seleana was leaving. Crystal has arrived and objected to both children going with Seleana. The only reason there had not been a full-on physical dust-up between the two is that Alexandra "Diamond" Caldwell had stepped in to stop Crystal when it was clear the two children were going willingly, that they had made the choice on their own.

Seleana, Aurora and Elijah walk up to the door of the domicile and ring the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opens to find Chi Chi almost chattering in machine gun Japanese. Seleana stares at theJapanese woman, visibly taken aback by the homeowner's ferocity.

Chiaki "Chi Chi" Sanada: Sel-chan!

Chi Chi brightens up immediately.

Chiaki "Chi Chi" Sanada: You come!

Seleana nods slowly.

Seleana Zdunich: Ja, we come.

As everybody stands there, Elijah steps forward and bows respectfully to Chi Chi before speaking in perfect Japanese.

Elijah Zdunich: (I wish to convey my presence and thank you for allowing us to be here. )

All three women standing there look on in shock, their jaws dropping.

Chiaki "Chi Chi" Sanada: (You speak Japanese?)

Elijah Zdunich: (I try.)

Chiaki "Chi Chi" Sanada: (Where did you pick that up?)

Elijah Zdunich: (It was a class option. I was the only student so the class went at my speed.)

Seleana shakes her head at her son, clearly still shocked. Aurora stares at her brother in disbelief.

Aurora Zdunich: Have you always been able to do that?

Elijah shrugs.

Elijah Zdunich: I never tried with a real Japanese person before. I might not have been very good at it.

Chi Chi shakes her head.

Chiaki "Chi Chi" Sanada: (You speak very well, Young One.)

Elijah smiles for the first time and bows again, this time in gratitude.

Elijah Zdunich: (Thank you, Miss Sanada.)

Chi Chi smiles and waves them inside the house.






Off-Camera

Driveway
Home Of Chiaki Sanada And Jane Harper
San Clemente, California
Saturday, September 6, 2025
3:01 PM PDT





It had been a time of apparent change in the Zdunich House. Seleana Zdunich was facing a marriage crisis with wife, Christina "Crystal Hilton" Zdunich. Christina was allowing Crystal to take over and reassert herself and thus the family had been sacrificed, at least temporarily, on the altar of her career, which did not require such a thing. It had already reached such heights as to be unable to truly be denied. But Christina had chosen to do this anyway, driving Seleana and Alexandra away. Seleana had brought the two minor children with her to San Clemente. Alexandra had returned to Los Angeles, the city she had called home until the mansion in the Hollywood Hills had been burned down earlier this year by the wildfires.

Seleana's middle sister, Zenna Zdunich, had also arrived from New Orleans where her wife cousins, Lovisa "Lovie" Vikström and Ingrid Vikström, help the others who dwell within Lacroix house with Zenna, Linnéa Lacroix, her sister Alissa Lacroix and Alissa's fiancée, Kelly Taylor, the cousins functioning as additional nannies to the four adopted babies of Morgana Ashley, Olive Yseult, Melissa Vivian and Stacy Guinivere. The babies had been born to their paternal cousin, Lincoln Delacroix, who had died just after the babies' birth from cancer. The doctors had said it was a miracle of sorts that she'd made it long enough to actually have the babies. Lincoln had decided the miracle was that any of the five of them were still around after their years of drug abuse. The four who lived in that house had all managed to go to rehab and buy-in to the process, finding sobriety well enough to help others. This had actually come in handy fulfilling Lincoln's naming request for the babies. She wanted them all to have an Arthurian connection and it just so happened that one of the friends they wanted to name one of the babies already had such a connection built-in.  Linnéa had been the counselor and sponsor of Morgana "Morgan Payne" Cassiano so they combined her name with fellow friend Ashley Kenyon to name the first baby Morgana Ashley, Morgan Ash. The others, Livvie, Olive Yseult, was named after their sister-in-law, youngest sister Katra's wife, Olive "Krigare" Zdunich, Lissa, Melissa Vivian, was named after Melissa "Maki" Aki, and Little Sg, Stacy Guinivere was named after the woman who had originally introduced Seleana to Christina, Stacy Jones.

The rehab things had also come in handy when Christina had shown up on their doorstep looking for help with her own addiction issues. That had ended with Zenna becoming her sponsor after Zenna had hunted her down at a bar on Bourbon Street. Zenna and Christina had both been arrested after a fight because Christina was having doubts about stopping her usage of both cocaine and alcohol and had tried to push Zenna off of her. That lasted until the first shot landed and Christina had found that trying to physically fight Zenna was an exercise in futility on her part. Now Zenna had come running, hearing her elder sister was having the problem she was having.

(In Swedish)

Zenna Zdunich: (You have separated from Christina?)

Selena nods sadly.

Seleana Zdunich: (She told me she wanted nothing to do with me.)

Zenna nods, understandingly yet quite visibly annoyed.   

Zenna Zdunich: (Is she sober?)

Seleana shakes her head, uncertain of the truth of the matter.

Seleana Zdunich: (I do not know. When I mentioned that, is when she became angry and said what she said to me.)

Zenna nods, contemplating the situation.

Zenna Zdunich: (So either she is not sober or was looking for an excuse to strike out because the thought had crossed her mind and this was an attempt at distraction.)

She pauses solemnly.

Zenna Zdunich: (Or she was making hens out of feathers because she'd shit in the blue locker and did not wish to admit such things.)

Seleana nods in agreement.

Seleana Zdunich: (She might have caught her beard in the letterbox.)

Zenna Zdunich: (Either way, who is this she is choosing over you, Alex and the children?)

Seleana sighs heavily.

Seleana Zdunich: Mercedes Vargas.

Zenna nods at the name.

Zenna Zdunich: (Is she the one you have used that word about?)     

Seleana nods, visibly upset.

Seleana Zdunich: (Yes.)

Zenna shakes her head in disgust.

Zenna Zdunich: (And Christina picked her over you?)

Seleana nods sadly.         

Seleana Zdunich: (She does not believe in me. She thinks I am ungrateful for what she did for me with the championships.)

Zenna Zdunich: (You should be grateful that she made sure everyone would be talking about her and not see you as a real champion?)

Seleana nods as the tears threaten to overwhelm her again.

Seleana Zdunich: (Yes.)

Zenna can't believe her ears.

Zenna Zdunich: (I am sorry to hear this and I wish I could say I was surprised but I am not. I saw how she could be when I had to take her off Bourbon Street.)

Seleana nods through her tears.

Seleana Zdunich: (How could she do this to the children? They see all three of us as mother. It is priceless.)

She shakes her head.

Seleana Zdunich: (I knew something was up when she missed our anniversary. I should have known after Mercedes said what she said in Stockholm and caused the problem with Cassie.)

Pausing and shaking her head through her tears, Seleana exhales, trying not to just lose it completely in front of her little sister.

Seleana Zdunich: (Christina still has not even slowed down with Mercedes.)

zenna nods like she knew this was coming.

Zenna Zdunich: (Is that why you questioned if they were fucking?)   

Seleana nods sadly.

Seleana Zdunich: (Yes. I trusted her. I believe in her.)

She looks down just as much in shame as anything else.

Seleana Zdunich: (I love her. Our family is everything to me. I do not understand how it is not for her.)

Zenna takes the sobbing Seleana into her arms knowing there's nothing she can say to help and silently thanking whatever is listening that Jane and Chi Chi were here for her elder sister.


66
The old brick warehouse squatted at the edge of a forgotten street, its walls weathered and cracked. Rusted fire escapes clung desperately to its sides, parts of the rail missing and the descending ladders groaning in the wind of the September night. What had once been a factory now stood converted into a single cavernous loft, though the word converted felt generous.

Inside, the space was dim and uneven, shadows stretching out long with minimal lighting. The concrete floor was scuffed and stained, patched over in places where time and water had done its damage. Old mismatched furniture littered the space, frayed armchairs, a sagging sofa that might have been rescued from a curb, wooden tables marred by cigarette burns and knife gouges. Appliances leaned crooked.

Every corner of the loft was a place where madness could make itself comfortable. Anyone who called this place home would have to be nuts. A fitting thing because …

Against one wall, Anthrax lay sprawled on a battered military cot. The thin mattress sagged beneath his taut but muscled frame. His makeup was half-wiped but still smeared across his face, the dry residue cracking sand painted chips falling off to the blanket that covered him partially. Even in slumber, his body twitched with spasms of laughter, and every so often he let out a maddened, childlike giggle.

Across the loft, another door was half open into the demented world of Twisted Sister who was busy at play with her recent Barbie and Ken purchases. Her room was a shadowed shrine to something both childlike and profane. The centerpiece was a Barbie Dreamhouse, but not one as it was meant to be. Anthrax had long ago“renovated it. Its pastel pink walls had been painted over with dripping black streaks and the plastic windows were broken off, a few remaining but hanging on the plastic hinges. All of Barbie’s luxurious furnishings were replaced by makeshift replacements, crafted from cardboard or bits and pieces dug out of the trash and turned into something else. And where Barbie’s pool should have been, a shallow basin of black ink reflected the dim light like still water in a grave.

Twisted Sister crouched before the Dreamhouse on the worn floorboards, her cracked doll’s face paint smiling too wide, eyes bright and milky. In one hand she clutched the dark-haired Barbie (Alexandra Calaway) and in the other, was the bleached blonde Ken (LJ Kasey).

She set Barbie down in the bedroom of the dreamhouse, her voice pitched high and mocking.

Twisted Sister: Oh, LJ! I baked you a pie! A pie full of secrets! Do you want a slice?

She jerked Barbie forward, shoving an imaginary plate into Ken’s face. Then she snapped Ken’s arm back, her voice dropping to a gravelly growl.

Twisted Sister: What kind of secrets, Alexandra?

Twisted Sister: They’re bones, darling! Baked with love!

She giggled, smacking the two dolls together so violently Barbie’s head popped backward on its hinge. Twisted Sister gasped theatrically, her eyes widening in mock horror.

Twisted Sister: Oh no, LJ, you’ve broken my neck! Now I’m even prettier!

She rocked the Barbie doll gently, stroking its bent head. Then, slowly, she set Ken on the floor and crouched low, making him crawl up the Dreamhouse stairs.

Twisted Sister: Shhh, Alexandra. Broken dolls don’t get to sleep upstairs. Broken dolls belong in the basement.

Her hand shot forward, snatching Barbie up by the hair. She dangled her over the shoebox ‘basement’ and let her drop, giggling when the doll clattered against the foil walls.

Twisted Sister: Nooooo! It’s dark down here, LJ! It smells like forever!

She twitched, then made Ken peer down into the dungeon, his plastic grin catching the lamplight.

Twisted Sister: That’s right, Alexandra. Forever is where you live now.

She slammed the Ken doll down into the dungeon on top of Barbie, their limbs tangling in a grotesque heap. She smacked their faces together over and over, alternating voices rapidly.

Twisted Sister: I love you, LJ!

Twisted Sister: I own you, Alexandra!

Twisted Sister: You’re hurting me!

Twisted Sister: That’s the fun part!

She pulled the dolls out of the dungeon and placed them at the plastic dinner table. Around them, she had set broken bits of other discarded Barbies. Heads, arms, legs … It was like dinner guests at a macabre feast.

Twisted Sister: Welcome, everyone! Dinner is served! Tonight’s special is… ME!

She smashed Barbie face-first onto the table, then made Ken stab at her with a toothpick like a knife.

Twisted Sister: Dig in, my friends! Alexandra tastes divine!

She banged her fists on the floor, rocking back and forth, her laughter breaking into hiccups. Then she stopped, suddenly calm, and carefully laid the dolls side by side in the attic of the Dreamhouse.

Twisted Sister: Goodnight, LJ. Goodnight, Alexandra. May the spiders tuck you in.

She snapped her head toward the corner of the room, eyes wide, listening to a sound that wasn’t there. Her cracked lips stretched into a serene, unsettling smile.

Twisted Sister: They’ll never leave me! They’ll play with me forever!

She curled herself on the floor beside the Dreamhouse, rocking slightly, her eyes never straying from her “babies”.



The world was pink. Not soft, cheerful pink but an overbearing, blinding pink like a jumbo bottle of Pepto Bismol spilled across every surface. Skies painted in neon cotton-candy clouds churned overhead, dripping down like syrupy rain.

Rows of Barbie Dreamhouses rose like crooked towers, their pastel walls warped and oozing, their windows cracked like doll eyes staring blankly. Giant mirrors lined the horizon, reflecting not reality, but fractured smiles that moved out of sync with the world.

In the middle of this nightmare paradise stood a “garden.”

But instead of flowers, it bloomed with life-sized Barbie dolls, half buried in the earth, their limbs twisted at impossible angles. Their glossy hair was matted, their painted smiles cracked. Some were missing arms, others torsos. Some were strung up like scarecrows on candy cane striped poles, their heads dangling loosely to the side, staring with dead eyes.

Aqua’s Barbie Girl, slowed down and reversed, the voices echoing as though they were drowning underwater. And at the center of the garden, seated upon a throne of broken doll parts and candy-colored bones, was Twisted Sister.

She was Barbie incarnate, but not the dream. She was the nightmare. Her cracked porcelain face was smeared with pink blush and lipstick applied far outside the lines. A torn, glittering Barbie gown hung from her frame, shredded at the seams and stained with something darker. A crooked tiara rested on her head, its rhinestones missing like teeth rotted from a smile.

In her hands, she cradled an oversized Barbie head with its hair chopped jagged, its eyes gouged black and she  rocked it like a baby.

Twisted Sister: Shhh! It’s okay, little one. Mommy’s here. Mommy will never let them throw you away!

She pressed the head to her chest, then abruptly snapped upright, shrieking in her gravel-and-honey voice.

Twisted Sister: But the others! The others weren’t perfect!

She stood, towering over the doll garden. All around her, the mangled Barbies began to twitch. Heads turned. Limbs jerked. They started dragging themselves closer, scraping across the candy-colored dirt, their painted grins splitting wider as if they had been waiting for her command.

Twisted Sister: I’m Barbie now! The real Barbie! All the others were just practice dolls!

She ripped the head from the doll she had been cradling and raised it high like a trophy, pink hair spilling down her arm.

Twisted Sister: Ohhh, poor little LJ! Poor, poor chew toy. You’re nothing more than a squeaky bone for Anthrax to gnaw on until the stuffing spills out! Tut-tut-tut. You’re not mine, no. You were never meant for me to play with!

Her cracked lips curled as she suddenly snapped upright, eyes wide.

Twisted Sister: My plaything is fun-sized! My Barbie! My Alexandra!

She tilted her head back and forth, tutting with exaggerated disapproval.

Twisted Sister: Tsk, tsk, tsk. Alexandra Calaway! A boyfriend young enough to be your son! Ohh, the scandal! And people think I’m sick in the head!

She bursts into ragged laughter, clutching her sides, then suddenly goes stone still, staring directly into the camera.

Twisted Sister: But you won’t be thinking about that, will you, Barbie? No, no. You’ll be too busy watching Anthrax twist your pretty little boy-toy into pieces! You’ll be worrying that you’ll never be able to put him back together again!

Her cracked smile stretches further as she leans close, whispering.

Twisted Sister: And while you’re worrying, I’ll be right here. Waiting. Because you’re mine, Alexandra. You’re my toy!

She plucked a dark-haired Barbie from behind her back, stroking its tangled hair with something almost maternal, almost grotesque.

Twisted Sister: You like to play rough, don’t you, Barbie? Ohhh, I’ve seen it! The way you throw your little tantrums in the ring! The way you scratch and claw when you’re cornered. That’s my favorite kind of toy. The ones that squeal and fight and break!

Her laughter rose into a sharp, jagged cackle. She snapped the Barbie’s head back, making it bobble loosely on its neck.

Twisted Sister: But don’t worry, Alexandra! I’ll always be here to play with you! When Anthrax is done breaking LJ, I’ll be here. When the lights go out and you’re all alone in the Funhouse, I’ll be here.

She pressed the Barbie doll to her cheek, swaying like a child with her favorite toy. Her voice dropped to a soft, sing-song whisper.

Twisted Sister: Forever and ever, Barbie. We’ll play … until you break.

Her cracked grin filled the screen before the camera flickered to black.
67
Supercard Roleplays / “Old School vs. New School.”
« Last post by Harper Mason on September 11, 2025, 09:26:36 AM »
Harpin’ On With Harper, Harper’s Hotel Room, Miami Beach, Florida
Tuesday the 9th of September 2025, 11:00am

*on camera, start vlog, promo part one*

It was the week of Harper’s first title defence against Alicia Lukas, her first since winning the title from Victoria Lyons at Summer XXXTreme and fittingly? The show was two days before Harper’s 21st Birthday so the young bombshell had a lot on her mind.

”When I set my sights on winning the Roulette Title from Victoria at Summer XXXTreme, one of the reasons was the fact that I wanted my name in the history books, as the youngest ever Bombshell Roulette Champion!” Harper stated as she brushed some hair over her shoulder. ”A feat that no one saw coming because Victoria had managed to go mostly unbeaten for over a year by that point and her reign seemed set to make new records left, right and centre.

And yet?”
Harper asked hypothetically before holding the title up to the camera. ”The proof is in the pudding huh? They didn’t exactly waste time in trying to determine my first challenger either, someone who came back to SCW because they had a problem with me, it’s coming full circle, isn’t it? You came back for last year’s Summer XXXTreme, ffeuded with me for a bit because in your eyes? I was a nepo baby.”

Harper shook her head.

”You won that Falls Count Anywhere on the Cruise Ship, I’m not about to deny that, but what have we done since then?” Harper asked hypothetically as she rested her arms on the desk. ”Even though I lost our first match I went on to have my first title match against Victoria at the following Climax Control’s Main Event, I don’t think I need to point out how that ended! While you? You didn’t make another Supercard appearance until this year’s Inception when you were randomly inserted into the Roulette Division.

Funny for someone who once considered this division beneath her, huh?”
Harper asked as she folded her arms, ”But that was also your last Supercard appearance for months on end, Blaze of Glory? Nope, Into the Void? Nada, Summer XXXTreme? You guessed it, not a peep, what happened to you exactly Alicia?”

Harper grins.

”Before Amber Ryan came along you were the dominant World Bombshell Champion, someone considered untouchable but now? You can’t even rely on your star power to secure a spot on a Supercard!” Harper pats the Roulette Title. ”Here’s the thing, I have my own theory and I know for damn sure you’re not going to like the words that are about to come out of my mouth!

The Bombshell Division has passed you by Alicia! And you have a better explanation I’d love to hear it!”
  Harper stated as he look straight at the camera. ”I earned this title by defeating a woman who’s been a thorn in my side since SCW, now? I’m going to defend it against a woman who came back to SCW with one goal in mind: teach me a lesson that I didn’t need, because you’ve been full of shit since you returned!”

*end vlog*

Hanging out with Jessie’s family, Miami, Florida
Wednesday the 10th of September 2025, 14:00pm

Harper was a member of of the extended family of SCW Hall of Famer Jessie Salco, being her younger cousin on her biological parents’ side, and while Harper’s side originated from Orlando rather then Miami? Jessie had made it clear that she was still welcome to hang out with her family during the week leading up to Violent Conduct.

”Talk about rotten luck.” Harper commented to Jessie as she sat opposite her. ”The one show where SCW returns to our home state for the first time since 2020 and Wrestleleague schedules your match against Bianca Page for the same night as Violent Conduct!”

”Right? And just when I thought they were coordinating my Wrestleleague dates with SCW’s shows!” Jessie commented as she shook her head. ”Your match with Alicia is pretty far down the card while my match is night two’s Semi-Main Event, I should be able to stick around for the match but then I’ll have to jet off to Green Bay if I want to make it.”

”Busy night for my mentors in general in other words.” Harper responded before Jessie’s older brother Jake brought her a drink. ”Thanks Jake! So Jess, what do you think of my chances with Alicia?”

”Me and her weren’t even friends when I joined Honor Wrestling during SCW’s hiatus in 2018 and that was before all the bullshit that earned me the Most Hated Award during that year’s High Stakes show.” Jessie responded as she shook her head. ”Things didn’t exactly improve after she joined SCW following the Honor Wrestling buyout, and after she returned last year she focussed her energy on you by proxy.”

”For all the good that’s done to her legacy, she can’t even get onto a SCW Supercard without earning a title shot and she’s a Hall of Famer!” Harper pointed out as she shook her head. ”Seriously, before this Sunday her last appearance was on Inception VI, eight months ago!”

”Yeah, we can’t really deny that Alicia’s stock has plummeted since she returned, can we?” Jessie asked hypothetically as she leaned back in her chair. ”Missing one Supercard I could understand, it sucks and considering that she got screwed out of a spot in Favor of a pointless match between Seleana and Crystal I bet Cassie’s fuming, but several in a row? Especially after she beat you at last year’s Summer XXXTreme? She’s not the same athlete she used to be.”

”Of course unless I prove it Sunday night? I’m going to end up with egg on my face after Alicia pulls a Mercedes Vargas.” Harper commented before chuckling. ”Considering how prideful Alicia is? I bet she’d love being compared to Mercedes.”

”Oh yeah! Definitely bring that up.” Jessie responded with a laugh as she shook her head. ”And let me know in advance so I can grab popcorn for the twitter meltdown!”

”I think we’d be roasting marshmallows on the flames by that point.” Harper commented as she shook her head before the conversation drifted off.

Harpin’ On With Harper, the Salco family home, Miami, Florida
Wednesday the 10th of September 2025, 16:00pm

*on camera, start vlog, promo part two*

With the anniversary of 9/11 happening tomorrow and Harper being a military brat this week was bound to hit hard for her and for good reason.

”9/11, a day that lives in infamy and for a damn good reason, I wasn’t born until three years after that terrible day but thanks to my dad’s military service? Yeah, it hits different.” Harper sighed as she looked up to the sky. ”And then my parents were gunner don in their home while I was training at Hero Academy years later, after my dad’s military service had ended, in case you can’t tell? I’m dealing with a lot heading into my title match with Alicia.

I’m not trying to make this into a sob story, nor am I asking for pity, it’s been two years since my parents died and while it was terrible? I’ve had time to process all of it.”
  Harper sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. ”I’m just trying to get across how significant this week is for someone who grew up on a military base for the first decade or so of her life.”

Harper added as she leaned back.

”My dad never saw any major action, his posts were minor ones at foreign bases, but I know from personal experience that, until he retired from the military in 2014,  there was always a chance that could change.” Harper added  as she let out a deep breath. ”It would be cliché to dedicate our match to his memory Alicia, I some might even call it crass, but I will be heading into this match with all that on my mind and then some!

And too avoid this getting to heavy? Let’s swing this back around to wrestling!”
Harper added as she brushed some hair over her shoulder. ”On one hand Alicia? This match is a generational clash between champion and challenger, new school vs. old school if you will, but what happens when the old guard clearly can’t go anymore? Because as much as you try to deny it? You are becoming this generation’s Mercedes Vargas!”

Yep, she said it.

”And I don’t mean in that you’re going to shock the world on Sunday by winning the title, no, I mean that you’re a shell of your former self.” Harper added as she leaned back with her arms crossed. ”And I’m sure the comparison has someone as prideful as you riled up Alicia so let me rub salt in the wound by pointing out some facts!

One: you and Mercedes are both former World Bombshell Champions but neither of you have touched that title in years, two: you’re getting to Mercedes’s level of being past your prime and irrelevant Alicia and three?”
Harper grinned at the camera. ”This Sunday you’ll be bested by someone younger and better than you!”

*end vlog*

Local Café, Miami, Florida
Thursday the 11th of September 2025, 12:00pm

It was the Thursday before Violent Conduct and Harper was meeting with Josh at a local café, the twenty year old was wearing her dad’s old army jacket, something she had kept from those early days.

”Still surprising this thing fits me as well as it does,” Harper commented as she shifted her weight and Josh nodded. ”Then again my dad was a smaller guy, which is probably why he didn’t see much action in the army.”

“Probably but he still served his country and you should be proud of him for that.” Josh reminded Harper and she quickly nodded in agreement. “Wherever he is in the afterlife.”

”My parents were Christian, hell so was I for that matter.” Harper sighed as she thought back to that terrible day in 2023.  ”Though I will be the first to admit that I had a crises of faith after they were murdered, what kind of loving god would take two devoted parents away from their kids? I got of relatively easy because I was still in my late teens at that point but Jason and Mackenzie have had to live with Aunt Therese because they are underage.”

“Your aunt’s a good woman and I’m sure she’s doing the best she can for your younger brother and sister.” Josh assured her and Harper smiled at that. “And while I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting them, Jessie said they had raised you right.”

”Couldn’t have done a worst job I guess, growing up around military bases helped toughen me up for the rigors of the wrestling business.” Harper responded as she shifted her weight. ”And my amateur wrestling and tae kwon do training helped prep me for the physical side of the sport.”

“Exactly.” Josh nodded in agreement before the food arrived. “And you’ve only improved since then Harper!”

”Considering I’ve been wrestling for almost two years at this point?” Harper asked as she got ready to dig in. ”I’d hope so.” Harper responded before they started eating.

Harpin’ On With Harper, Harper’s Hotel Room, Miami, Florida
Thursday the 11th of September 2025, 21:00pm

*on camera, start vlog, final promo part*

With her first title defence looming Harper knows that she has a tall task ahead of her if she wants to keep her title.

”One year ago, they didn’t even have a place for us on the Violent Conduct card, the only time in my SCW Career where they couldn’t find something for me to do on a Supercard and yes, I don’t count Inception because they were able to add the match with Seleana at the last minute.” Harper commented as she ran a hand though her hair. ”One year later and not only am I the Roulette Champion but we’re facing off Alicia.

But then again, that’s become a normality for you, hasn’t it Alicia?”
Harper asked as she stretched her arms a bit. ”Since you returned to SCW last year you’ve only wrestled on two Supercards including the show where we had our first match and this Sunday will be your third, while me?”

Harper grins as she leans back.

”I’ve been working my ass off for the past year to try to get my name out there as someone who was on the rise in the Bombshell Division, and, well, the proof’s in the pudding.” Harper stated as she held up the title to the laptop’s webcam. ”Because I, the youngest Bombshell on the roster, did what so many women, including you Alicia, couldn’t! I ended the queen’s reign, I claimed her spot on the Roulette Throne and while I knew it was a matter of time before I got my first challenger? I wasn’t going to back down from anyone.

Not bad for someone you dismissed as a nepo baby when you returned to SCW, huh Alicia?”
Harper asked as she put her title down. ”And trust me, this title won’t be going anywhere but home with me if I have anything to say about it and in case you haven’t noticed? I’ve had a lot of stuff to say!”

It’s that simple.

”But this Sunday actions will speak a hell of a lot louder than words and regardless of what the Roulette Wheel stops on? I’ll be ready!” Harper added as she folded her arms. ”Ready to prove to the Bombshell roster that this was not a fluke, ready to show that I can hold my own as a champion in the Bombshell Division and more importantly? Celebrate my 21st birthday next Tuesday with my title in hand!”

And with that Harper decided to wrap things up.

”I may be young but I’m not blind to your ambitions Alicia, you want one more reign before you hang up the boots for good.” Harper added as she looked at her Bombshell Roulette Title. ”But it won’t be at my expense Alicia! This Sunday at Violent Conduct not only will I retain the title in my first defence but I will avenge that loss I suffered at your hands one year because the world has it’s new hero and it’s time I probed my worth as champion because I vow to see that justice Is done as “The Slaytanic Avenger” Harper Mason!”

Harper turned off the camera as the scene fades.
68
Almighty Fire
semana del 7 de 14 de septiembre de 2025

Alright, let's get into this.

Kate, you’ve spent the past few weeks writing love letters to yourself about all the things you’re owed. Another chance in the spotlight. Another opportunity to shine. Another reminder that you’re relevant. Like clockwork, you show up demanding the world pay attention, as if any of us forgot who you were.

The irony, of course, is that nobody forgot you.

They just stopped caring.

Let’s separate fact from fiction, shall we?

You spin this story about deserving a bigger stage, about belonging in the world title picture, about how Andrea Hernandez, Frankie Holliday, or even Kayla Richards don’t measure up compared to you. But there’s something you never say, Kate, probably because you can’t bear to.

So let’s be blunt.

When was the last time you won when it actually mattered?

Go ahead. Take your time, cariño. Take all the time you need.

Because that silence you’re hearing right now? That silence is louder than your excuses or every promo you’ve ever cut.

You call the Internet Championship division unstable. You call it pathetic. How the title’s been devalued. How reigns don’t mean what they used to. Honey, if anyone is qualified to discuss devaluing championships, it’s you. Because your track record of desperately clawing for glory that never lasts is your real legacy.

You say you built this division. Maybe you fooled yourself into believing that, but the rest of us? We never forgot who carried it when it mattered. Julianna. Tempest. Even Myra. They gave this championship value. You stripped it away every time you made it about yourself.

A Hall of Fame-worthy career isn’t built on complaints, Kate. It’s built on results. And if results are the metric, then you fail.

Your little speech about being a phoenix was inspiring though, I’ll give you that. Almost sounded convincing. The great Kate Steele—the Diamond rising from the ashes, ready to shine again. Very poetic. But here’s the issue:

Diamonds don’t burn. And phoenixes burn out far more often than they rise. You, dear, are not a diamond. You’re definitely not a phoenix. You’re a recycled slogan in search of an audience willing to buy the merch.

I’ve listened carefully to all your excuses, Kate. How if it weren’t for politics, you’d be in the world title picture. How Frankie Holliday isn’t that good, since you beat her. How the Internet division fell apart after you and Myra set the standard.

Your problem has never been talent, Kate. I’ll give you that. Underneath the drama, the empty words, the entourage—yes, there is ability. Your problem has always been projection. That’s the truth no one else will say to your face. Every insult you hurl, every accusation, every rant about my reign being weak or undeserved—it all reflects back on you.

See, you call my reign a joke because of Crystal Caldwell. You call my success undeserved. That’s rich coming from someone who can’t stand the mirror without trying to convince herself she belongs there. All of your words, Kate, are just projections of your insecurity. And to be blunt, that little speech about controlling the Gemstones? Ruby, Sapphire, the entourage—you just admitted you can’t win without them.

Then again, that’s always been your story, hasn’t it?

Mientras tanto, yo soy las dos cosa.

You need validation. I don’t.
You need hype. I don’t.
You need slogans to keep yourself afloat. I’ve already proven myself permanent

And Lilith, unlike Kate, I can’t even be mad at you. You’re not delusional—you’re just… misplaced. Your first taste of gold hooked you, didn’t it? The rush of being champion. The buzz of mattering. But it’s gone now, and as much as you try to chase it, you know deep down it won’t last. It didn’t before, and it won’t at Violent Conduct.

I almost pity you. Almost.

But pity doesn’t win championships. Precision does. Legacy does. And when I look at both of you, I don’t see star power or destiny. I don’t see war-hardened veterans ready for greatness. All I see are two women who can’t decide whether they want relevance or respect—because deep down, they’re terrified they’ll never have either. Meanwhile, me? I’m both. I’m everything you crave and everything you’ll never be.

When championships fall apart, they call me.
When divisions lose value, my name saves them.
When legacy needs legitimacy, they turn to Mercedes Vargas.

That’s the difference. That’s what a Hall of Fame career actually looks like. That's what separates me from everyone else. And now, at Violent Conduct, I don’t just defend my championship—I stand on the verge of history. Win number one hundred in Sin City Wrestling is within my grasp, and it won’t be Kate Steele or Lilith Locke who stops me from taking it.

You both think this is your moment. The defining match of your careers. The rise. The return. The rebirth.

But what you forget is simple: Esta es mi división. Este campeonato es mi historia. Esta compañía… es mi legado. And Violent Conduct isn’t a fairy tale, ladies—it’s reality.

Reality doesn’t care about phoenixes, or diamonds, or second chances. Reality crowns the one consistent truth. And the truth is that Mercedes Vargas is inevitable.

So here’s how the story ends. After the last fall is counted, when the lights go out over South Beach, when Violent Conduct is finished and Ocean Drive settles back into silence, there won’t be questions left. No one will be wondering if Kate or Lilith finally made it. There won’t be chatter of redemption, or comebacks, or finally breaking through.

The only sound left will be a statement that echoes louder than all your wasted speeches, every flimsy excuse, every hollow promise you’ve ever made.

And still.

The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.


~~~

INT. CRYSTAL’S MIAMI APARTMENT – NIGHT

[The room is dim, shadows pooling in corners. The ceiling fan spins lazily, moving little of the heavy Miami heat. City sounds drift faintly through cracked open windows. Outside, reggaetón thumps from a passing car mixing with city horns and voices in Spanish drifting up from the street. Crystal and Mercedes sit across from each other, quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. Mercedes holds up ten fingers, breaking a quiet tension with the start of a game.]

MERCEDES
Never have I ever lied about why I was late to a gig.

[Crystal lowers a finger, her smile twitching, almost forced.]

CRYSTAL
More times than I’m proud of. Your turn.

[Mercedes pauses, eyes distant but resolute.]

MERCEDES
Never have I ever felt like I’m losing control of my life.

[Crystal’s fingers drop slowly, a shadow passing over her face.]

CRYSTAL
Yeah. More than I want to admit.

[They lean in, the playfulness fading into something heavier.]

CRYSTAL
Mercedes... I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

MERCEDES
Do what? Live with my flawless taste in snacks?

CRYSTAL
Keep it all together. You, everything else, my marriage. It’s like juggling fire, but the fire is jealous and keeps texting me in all caps.

[Mercedes raises her brows like she’s just discovered a new workout fad.]

MERCEDES
Wait-wait-wait. Seleana thinks you’re choosing me? That’s adorable. Nobody’s chosen me for anything since eighth grade kickball.

CRYSTAL
Pretty sure they were still talking about it at the reunion.

[Mercedes gasps, points at her; Crystal smirks smugly.]

MERCEDES
Oh great, I finally win something—Most Distracting Best Friend.

CRYSTAL
Congrats. Your acceptance speech should be under two minutes, unlike your karaoke.

[Mercedes clutches her chest dramatically.]

MERCEDES:
Is my trophy just Seleana glaring at me?

CRYSTAL
Don’t worry, it comes with unlimited awkward silences too.

CRYSTAL
It’s not funny. She’s serious. She says I’m putting you first. And honestly… she might be right.

[Mercedes reaches out, steadying Crystal’s shaking hand.]

MERCEDES
Listen. You don’t have to choose. Hell, no one should make you. But if you don’t start scheduling your life like a Google calendar on steroids, you’re gonna combust like microwave spaghetti. Ugly. Everywhere.

CRYSTAL
I’m scared I’ll lose it all… the marriage, the friendship, maybe even my pizza delivery discounts.

MERCEDES
Then we make a plan. Easy. Step one: no more dramatic confessions during Never Have I Ever. Step two: therapy. Step three: pretend therapy worked… while using double coupons.

[The laughter dies quick, hanging in the air like smoke after a pyro pop. Crystal wipes at her eyes, embarrassed she cracked. Mercedes leans back, arms folded, her smirk faded into something heavier. Neither talks right away. The city hum drifts through the cracked window, restless and low.]

CRYSTAL
I keep waiting for… something to break. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s everything. With all the history and glamour, I’ve attracted plenty of haters. Just as many fans who want to see me win also love to see me fail.

[Mercedes studies her, voice calm but firm.]

MERCEDES
You’re tougher than you think. But tough don’t mean unbreakable. You keep running both sides of the card—friendship, marriage—you’ll snap.

[Crystal looks up, defensive. Mercedes sees it, pushes.]

MERCEDES
Pick a lane, Crystal. Either with her… or with yourself. But you can’t keep pretending you can play it both ways.

[Crystal closes her eyes, rubs at her temples, like the weight is pressing. She looks at Mercedes, voice raw.]

CRYSTAL
You think I don’t already know that? You think I don’t see it slipping through my fingers every damn day? I’m losing her, Mercy. And if I lose her, if I lose this… us… then what the hell am I even holding onto?

[The words land hard. Mercedes sits back, quiet, absorbing them. For once, she doesn’t quip. She nods slow, like taking the hit and deciding whether to sell it or fight back.]

MERCEDES
So let me get this straight—you’re spinning out ‘cause you might lose your marriage… while the company’s selling tickets to watch you try and kick each other’s faces in a mud pit?

[Crystal lets out a bitter laugh, but it’s hollow. She wipes at her eyes, smearing eyeliner.]

CRYSTAL
Story of my life, right? The fight’s always real whether I want it to be or not. Out there it’s mud and cameras. In here it’s my home. And somehow, both feel like I’m drowning.

MERCEDES
Then you fight for it. Both of them. Own your mistakes. Admit you’re stretched thin. But don’t let it all burn down just because you’re scared to say the truth to her face.

[Crystal looks at her. The silence stretches. She breathes unsteady, caught between anger and despair.]

CRYSTAL
What if she asks me to cut you out?

[Mercedes stiffens. Her jaw tightens, eyes cold, her voice dropping low. Her voice is quiet, but dangerous with truth.]

MERCEDES
Then you’ll know if you’ve been fighting for her… or just fighting not to lose.

[The words hang heavy. Crystal’s face hardens through her tears. Mercedes leans back in her chair, arms crossed. A siren wails outside before fading. Crystal turns to the dark window, her reflection staring back. The weight of what’s been said lingers like a tolling bell.]

END.

~~~

Present Day ♦ M I A M I • F L O R I D A

[REC•]

[The camera fades in from black to the warm glow of the Miami sun. We see the glistening coastline of South Beach dotted with luxury umbrellas, bronzed sunbathers, yachts anchored close by, and the distinct hum of seagulls cutting across the beachside chatter. The waves crash gently at the shoreline, and with the radiant backdrop, the scene slowly shifts as the camera tilts down toward Mercedes Vargas, who stands alone in front of the surf.

Dressed purposefully in a pristine white sundress with gold accents—deliberate, elegant, and calculated. Oversized designer sunglasses sit perfectly across her face, one corner tilted slightly in the way only someone comfortable with status can pull off. A Louis Vuitton tote is slung across one arm, but what stands out most is the gleam of the Bombshell Internet Championship draped proudly over her shoulder.

She smirks, staring directly into the camera, with that calm, unflappable confidence—a confidence that doesn’t need yelling to get the point across.

She removes her sunglasses just enough to peer with calculated precision into the lens. Her body language oozes control.

For a moment, she doesn’t speak. The distant soundscape of waves and chatter lingers. She lets the audience wait—because with Mercedes Vargas, silence is not emptiness but punctuation.

Only then does she start.]

"You know… South Beach has a way of humbling people.

Think about it… tourists come here every day believing that this—this glitz, this glamour, these million-dollar yachts and high-rise condos—belongs to them. They walk along Ocean Drive in their cheap flip-flops, mouth open in awe, pretending like they’re part of it all. But the thing is… South Beach belongs to the elite. To those who have earned their way here. The few who actually belong at the top.

"I guess in a way, it’s not too different from Sin City Wrestling, is it? Everyone wants to play at the top of the mountain, wants to act like they’ve made it, wants to claim they’ve ‘earned’ it… without realizing that longevity matters. Legacy matters. Position matters. And not everyone gets to sit at this table.”

[She gestures subtly to her right where a waiter in a vest and bowtie approaches, carrying the Bombshell Internet Championship on a silver tray. He bows politely before presenting it to Mercedes, never more than a background character. Mercedes takes the title with casual grace, sliding it off the tray and holding it in both hands, letting the gold glisten under the Miami sun. Tilting it slightly toward the camera, she almost teases the audience with the reminder of what’s truly at stake.]

“As I stand here in South Beach, ahead of Violent Conduct, I hear people trying to convince themselves of their greatness. Trying to sell the world on why they are the one, why they deserve this, why they’ve been built for this. The speeches, the fiery passion, the declarations of destiny…

"Kate Steele, that’s you I’m talking about.”

[A pause. She slips her sunglasses slowly down to the tip of her nose and peers over them at the camera.]

"You’re welcome, by the way. I should probably congratulate you on finally getting noticed again. You’ve spent so long burning your bridges, bouncing between allegiances, trying to remind people that you’re still relevant—that now someone has finally handed you what you begged for.

"Merry Christmas, right? You said it yourself. Christmas came early, no thanks to jolly Saint Evelyn. Unfortunately for you, Kateykins? You never learned how to handle gifts. Every time the company handed you momentum, you squandered it. Every time you were given legacy, you poisoned it. You’re out here talking about how you deserve this, how you should’ve been in the world title picture, how you’re above where you are—yet here you are… begging to be Bombshell Internet Champion again. The audacity.”

[Mercedes smirks, turning slightly toward the water as a group of tourists point in her direction, some trying to sneak pictures of her. She doesn’t object, she doesn’t even turn—it’s expected. She waves them off as if to say: “Keep watching, you’re not worth my time.”]

“You painted a picture of history, Kate. How the title meant something when you held it, when Myra Rivers held it, when this division was pure and proud and respected. You rant about how the title turned into a hot potato, how the division collapsed. I find it so funny—you talk like the historian you wish you were… but unlike me, you cherry-pick.

"See, darling, I was there. I lived it. This division, this company—SCW—it doesn’t make champions. It exposes them. Always has, always will. And the truth is, people like you? You’ve been exposed one too many times already.”

[She straightens her stance, slipping her sunglasses back up and reclaiming her champagne glass, holding it delicately between her fingers. With her left arm, she rests on the table in that relaxed, you-can’t-rush-me energy.]

“You want everyone to believe that you’ve been overlooked, that you’re the phoenix rising from the ashes, that you’re some diamond about to shine again. Cute branding, I’ll give you that. But let me let you in on something, Kate. Diamonds don’t shine again. They either shine… or they never did in the first place.

"And sweetheart, you can keep telling everybody that this is the moment where people notice you again, that this is how you get back on the road to relevancy.

"But me? I don’t need to get back anywhere. I never left the conversation. The difference between you and I is so simple: you need this one moment to make yourself relevant. Me? My career? My legacy? It’s already cemented. I am relevance. When they mention SCW, Mercedes Vargas is in that conversation whether I’m holding a title or not.”

[Mercedes pauses to get her thoughts together before addressing the camera directly again.]

“And then there’s Lilith. Poor Lilith. Suddenly, she finds herself in the middle of this chaos—desperate to prove she’s not just another footnote, desperate to matter again. You talk up how you’ll take back what’s yours, Lilith, but let’s not pretend here. You rode the wave, you got a moment under the spotlight, and like the tide it moved back out to sea. That’s what fleeting reigns do. You already know how temporary that was because you felt it. And trust me… you’re about to feel it again.”

[Mercedes steps forward toward the lens, standing so close now that the reflection of the waves shimmer in her sunglasses. Still calm, still precise.]

“You see, unlike either of you, I don’t hide. I don’t mask my reality with overblown speeches about destiny, phoenixes, diamonds, promises, or five-second fame.

"You call my reigns ‘bullshit,’ Kate? Let’s be honest—it’s projection. Blaming Crystal. Accusing me of not standing on my own. Interesting. Here’s the problem with that little theory: results.

"Crystal or not, alliances or not, the fact remains—I’m sitting here as a three-time Bombshell Internet Champion. And yes, numbers matter. Longevity matters. History matters. Wins matter. All the things you call irrelevant, Kate, only because they don’t belong to you. Because when you look in the mirror, you see the bitter truth—that you’ve been clawing for respect I already have.”

[Mercedes pats the center plate of the championship before letting it dangle at her side as she strolls closer to the crashing surf. She takes a step back, composing herself, and glances out toward the rows of luxury yachts.]

“South Beach. The perfect metaphor. Everybody wants to pretend they belong. They rent fancy cars for a day, post selfies by hotels they can’t afford, and play dress-up. Yet at the end of it all, the tourists go home, and the elite remain.

"That’s the match at Violent Conduct. Lilith? She’ll go back chasing a claim that won’t materialize. Kate? She’ll go back ranting about how the world owes her recognition, how people don’t appreciate her, how she’s destined for Hall of Fame while never quite stepping into it.

"And me? Well… I’ll go exactly where I’ve always been. The one woman you can’t erase. The name you can’t stop uttering even when you claim to hate it. The constant. The history maker. The benchmark.

"The champion.”

[She saunters toward the camera, the sound of her heels crunching softly into the sand. When she gets close, she lowers her voice into that crisp, deliberate whisper that forces the audience to hang onto every syllable.]

“So, by all means—do your rebel speeches, fire off your insults, pretend like you’re built for this moment. Sell yourself like you’ve always done. Because Sunday, when this Falls Count Anywhere match ends, there will only be one truth left on everyone’s lips.

*It’s not phoenixes. It’s not diamonds. It’s not fairy tales.

"It’s Mercedes Vargas.

"And still.”

[She raises a champagne glass in a toast toward the camera, smirks, then downs the drink in one polished motion.]

"Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. And may the odds be ever in your favor."

[The screen fades to black on the beach shore as the last light of the sun slips beneath the horizon, leaving only the gentle roar of the waves.]

[***Fade***]
69
Chapter 73: The Reckoning.

In the weeks leading up to the party tour that we were all expected to go on I enjoyed my time at home. The life of a professional wrestler is almost like that of a travelling showman. We leave and go to different parts of the United States and then different parts of the world all to perform in front of people. Whether it is the Climax Control weekly shows or the supercards that take us to exotic places during certain tours, we have to leave our homes and travel away.

Now, I’m not going to complain about this. I don’t want to come off like I’m ungrateful. After all, I get to go all around the world and see beautiful places all while doing the job that I love. I have a blessed life. I’m not going to lie about it and I’m not going to sit here and make everyone think that I’m trying to tell you that my life is hard. My life is not any harder than anyone else’s. I love my life, I love what I’ve been able to accomplish, but I also love staying at home.

I bought a house with the man that I love and I enjoy staying in it. I enjoy waking up in my own bed, I enjoy sipping my coffee while looking out the window at the beautiful wide open spaces of Colorado. I love the fact that a lot of the people in the city that I live in are either respectful enough that they do not treat me any differently or they genuinely do not know who I am because they don’t watch professional wrestling. Don’t get it twisted, I do get the occasional person who flips out and wants to talk to me, but for the most part the shop owners and locals just know me as the tattooed English girl married to the handsome tall rockstar-looking antisocial hunk.

There are locals at the gym who give me a courtesy nod when I walk through the door, the lovely little barista at my favourite coffee place who is putting herself through college and whose mother is constantly on her back about getting a boyfriend. There is the kindly old man who owns a lovely little restaurant that Finn and I like to visit. A man of Italian descent whose family works there, and he does some of the greatest carbonara that I’ve ever been given the privilege of eating. The reason why I’m telling you all this is because you need to understand how much I love my home.

I love what I’ve been able to accomplish and what I have in my life.

And in my mind I’ve earned it. I’ve gone through so many horrible things. And even now I get to sit staring into the eyes of an innocent young child. Kallie brought over DCx3. Her young son, the son of that idiot Australian who for some reason everyone else likes. And while his father might be a bumbling oaf who I don’t like to talk to, think about, or be in the same room as, Dax is lovely. ”You are getting so much bigger. What is your mother feeding you?”

Kallie smiled and shook her head. Bringing a cup of tea to her mouth and taking a sip, she leaned onto our black marble kitchen bench staring across at me with a look of mild amusement. ”He eats everything. Between him and his father, our grocery bill is through the roof.”

I screwed up my nose and smiled, Dax giggled and kept looking up at me before sliding down onto the floor and running across the room. He grabbed hold of a small book, moving back toward me and jumping up next to me, putting it on my lap before pointing down at it. ”Read please?” I picked up the book and couldn’t help but smile. I could feel Kallie staring at me, waiting for my reaction.

I simply smiled and opened the book. Sitting on my couch reading the story to Dax, I saw him filled with joy and happiness. But his eyelids became heavy, and the young man decided to pass out on my couch. I slid the small stuffed kangaroo that he had brought with him into his arms and pulled a little blanket over him before standing up and moving into the kitchen. ”You really are amazing with him. It’s so cute. It’s the same way that I’ve seen you with your sister’s kids.”

I shrugged. ”They’re innocent. They haven’t seen what the world is yet. They will have enough disappointment and anger in their lives. Enough heartbreak. I’m not going to add to that. Instead, I’d much rather be remembered fondly by the next generation, thank you.” Kallie smiled. I grabbed my purse and sighed. ”I need to duck out, Finn will be home soon. Don’t think you need to go rushing out of here. You can let Dax sleep.” She stayed quiet, just lifting her teacup to acknowledge me as I moved to the door and left.

I moved my way out onto the street. Looking down at my phone, I moved toward our Amazon pick-up box, knowing that I was going to get a few packages as well as a registered letter. Finn and I were waiting on work from a lawyer that we had hired, and a private investigator to find out exactly what the gypsies were planning. But it was on this walk that something hit me. I felt them—eyes all around me. I knew they were watching, I knew they were still there. And they were doing a very good job staying hidden. But this time something felt off. This time felt like it was going to be an attack.

I could hear footsteps behind me. A pace that was matching my own. The shoes even sounded like mine. It was a woman. One who was a similar height and weight to me. Interesting. They’re sending someone who they think would be fair one on one. Idiots. I moved and turned down a slightly more deserted street before spinning around and folding my arms over my chest, waiting for whoever it was. And just like I planned, the girl turned—a mop of long black hair masking her olive skin and green eyes. She turned up her nose, a scar visible going across her right eyebrow, down her eyelid, and then across her cheek.

”You….” I recognised her. She was a simple soldier when I was there. One that I had punished. One that I had felt shame in having to punish and destroy. But here she was, ready to come after me.

”Me… I should’ve known it was you that they were sending me after. Jace said it would be special. Maybe he was right. The second I saw you walk out of that door I knew it. I’d be able to get my revenge.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. She had no idea what she was talking about. She was still brainwashed. Still a member of the family, still someone who would die for the rest of them. ”Revenge? Are you sure that’s what this is about? Because I know I left a mark, but the mark I left wasn’t that one.” My motion was toward her scar. I saw her eye twitch and her hand move up toward her face.

”This was still because of you. Do you know how long it took me to claw my way back? How many bullshit collections I had to do? Do you know how long I had to be exiled?”

”Well it improved your English.”

”Shut up! You don’t get to make a joke out of this. Do you think you’re special? Because you got out? Do you have any idea what you did? You and your sister. Because of your sister leaving and taking you, because of Renee dying, everything hit the fan and Jace needed to step up. But the rest of us are still in the same hell. Why do you get to escape? Why do you get to have a new life?”

Her words started to hit harder and harder. Changing from revenge and anger to what was almost a plea for help. Her voice cracked and her eyes changed. She wasn’t angry, she was jealous. She was scared and knew what she had to do. But didn’t have the stomach to do it. This girl was going to get eaten alive if she went back without accomplishing what she was told to do. But that’s why she was the one to do it. Jace knows damn well she doesn’t have the stomach for this kind of thing. He knew she would fail. He sent this girl to fail so he could punish her and make an example of her. And I’m not going to let that happen.

I turned and opened my purse, pulling out my chequebook. I scribbled something down, turning the cheque over and endorsing it before grabbing her hand and slamming it into her palm. She looked up at me confused. ”Look, it’s not much, but it’s enough that it will get you away from here. Cash it, get the money, and get the fuck away from Colorado and get as far away from the New York compound as you can. Go back to the old country. Go somewhere else in Europe, go to South America—just go anywhere where they aren’t going to find you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

She looked at the amount written on the cheque, her eyes widened. She backed away and nodded slowly. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to say anything. I knew what she felt because I had been there.

Hope

Bloodbath in Miami

The beach was beautiful. Even though it was no longer summer it was still warm and inviting in Miami, Florida. The beautiful white powder of South Beach, the calm ocean as it floated in, mixing with the tall apartment blocks that seemed to ebb and flow across the coastline. Kayla Richards smiled and took a sip of beer. Yes, beer, a cold beer on a warm day. Nothing is better.

”It’s funny Frankie, when you started using the rookie mistake angle I was torn on whether or not it was legitimately how you felt or if it was a tactic. If it was a tactic to draw me in and confuse me, then I could respect that. Hell, it’s something that I would’ve found impressive. Even if it wasn’t going to work. But, the more I hear you speak, the more I realise that this whole rookie mistake narrative that you’ve got cooking up is legitimately how you feel. Why would someone sit here and constantly throw that out into the universe?”

“You’re somehow openly admitting that I’m better while also giving yourself a way out of this whole situation. The situation that you should not have been in. You are here because someone else was too cowardly to face me. You are here because you were able to win a match that should never have happened. You might be a rookie, but even a fully formed, experienced version of you would struggle against someone like me. Just based off of who I am.”

“And what I am...”

“I have never needed someone to make their own mistakes or any kind of luck to beat them. That’s what other people need, Frankie. Others need their opponent to make mistakes, others need to be lucky. I just need to be me. That might seem incredibly arrogant to you and self-righteous, and maybe it is, but that’s what sets me apart from the regular riffraff that you have been beating and dominating since you stepped foot in this company. That is what makes me different than everybody else in this company. But all I keep hearing from every single one of you is that my luck is going to run out or that I’m not as good as I think I am, when every single shred of evidence shows the opposite.”


Kayla clicks her tongue and shakes her head, taking a deep breath before continuing and folding her arms over her chest as her beer sits on the small table in front of her. She looks out across the beautiful white sand.

”However, considering the other low-hanging fruit you have been going for, does the luck and rookie mistake angle really come off as a surprise to me? I guess not. You seem to believe that somehow I’m living rent free in your head. That’s cheap. If you are living rent free in my head then how did you spend the last month and a half, since I beat you, waxing lyrical about how it was a rookie mistake and how you are going to get better? You aren’t living rent free in my head, sweetheart. I’ll explain to you exactly what happened, just so you can get a real glimpse into the mind of the genius that is Kayla Richards.”

“A few months ago you were able to win a tournament. It was a shock to many that you won, but it wasn’t a shock to me. I saw your competition and I honestly believed that you were probably the best out of the bunch. That really isn’t saying that much. That is honestly like saying you are the tastiest thing at Arby’s — everything else is still shit. But you still won. You still earned yourself a match against me.”

“I indulged your little fantasy that you were going to be an incredible opponent for me. I played along and I did so for your benefit. I could’ve been even worse than I was. A bigger, more destructive bitch, both physically and verbally. I could’ve hunted you down backstage and beaten the hell out of you. I could’ve verbally eviscerated you every single time I spoke about you instead of showing you that little bit of respect that I did show you.”

“But I let it go. I let it go because this division needs stars and I didn’t want you quitting and running away like Andrea Hernandez recently did. So instead, I showed you a little bit of respect. And when the match was over, I walked out of there with my championship held high above my head and a huge smile on my face. Because I felt like a new star had been created and you were going to fight your way back to me, and maybe by the time you did, you would be ready. But the second I went through that curtain, the second that my music stopped and I went home, I stopped thinking about you altogether.”

“So, no Frankie, you have not been living rent free inside my head. You have been sleeping like a cheap truck stop whore in my subconscious, because I forgot about you.”


Kayla rolls her eyes and keeps her arms folded over her chest, staring straight ahead. But there is a small spark of anger behind her eyes, anger that Frankie would presume to know her and know what she was thinking.

”That was until you won this opportunity against me. Then I was forced to deal with you again. Forced to listen to the same bullshit that you tried to run at me last time. And it’s really strange to me how someone who sits there and talks so much about change has refused to change in the last two months since I beat the crap out of her and kept my championship. You keep on talking about change like it is your God-given right to try it. Do you know what real change is, Frankie? Real change is showing, not telling. You sit there and tell me what you’re about to do and you tell me how I feel and you tell me what to expect, but then you show me nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“You are a silly little pain addict who likes to use every single cliché under the book because you haven’t learned anything from anyone. You haven’t done anything of note and you are trying so desperately to get my attention when all you had to do was win. All you had to do was keep going and all you had to do was show that you could pull the trigger, and you haven’t been able to do that. Instead, I get some blithering bullshit about you being inevitable, talking about change, using words like "rent free", all of the regular cliché crap that everyone before you has come and used. And as much as I want to believe that you are going to come out firing at Violent Conduct and do everything you promised, I simply don’t have the faith in you that you have in yourself.”

“You keep saying inevitable like you are some comic book supervillain. We might as well paint you purple, put a cheap gold gauntlet on your hand, and have you strut around this place clicking your fingers thinking that you’re special.”

“But when I look at you, all I can think of is much like Thor with Thanos, your father should’ve just gone for the head. Which is ironic considering you just seem less and less like a fighter and more like Thanos with daddy issues….”


Kayla balls her hands into fists and steps back and forth, trying to calm herself down. Clearly annoyed at Frankie’s attitude more so than her presumptions.

”The fact is, I have to deal with you. I have to be the one to beat you and face you. And I have to listen to everything that you put out into the universe and make the decision on if I should take you seriously or laugh at you. The problem with laughing at you is that it diminishes everything I’ve done with this championship, because you are the best that this company has to offer right now to put against me. And all of your big talk about wanting change is just a joke. You don’t want change,  you want to face me. You don’t want a new era,  you just want attention. And the saddest part about it is that without me you don’t get what you want.”

“Without me, you are just another voice begging to be heard and noticed. Without me, you are just another rookie who has been able to accomplish big things with no one caring. But with me, Frankie? With me you tricked yourself into thinking that you matter. You tricked yourself into thinking that you are an agent of change and a champion of a new era. You believe these things that you are saying about yourself and considering the knee-jerk reaction you had last time I beat you, this isn’t going to be good for you. This isn’t going to be healthy.”

“At Violent Conduct you are going to be stepping in the ring with the greatest professional wrestler this company has ever seen. Not the best women’s wrestler, not the best bombshell or female. The best professional wrestler on this planet. That is who I am. That is what I am. And you need to do something better to beat me.”

“I just don’t have the faith in you to do it. And I simply do not believe you.”
70
Supercard Roleplays / My New Pet.
« Last post by Victoria Lyons on September 09, 2025, 02:51:24 AM »
If it wasn't for the giant margaritas, Victoria would have left this bar a long time ago the music was annoying and there was nobody interesting in sight but the giant margaritas were to die for.

She sat sipping on her margarita, watching the dancers, that stupid Will Smith song playing for what felt like the millionth time. It was like she got it, they were in Miami, did they need to play the stupid song all the time?

She scoffed, deciding perhaps she should just leave, Margaritas aside the place was a bit of a dump.

And then the song changed and something shifted in her she knew it the moment the note started this was that song the one that just compelled her to dance every time she didn't know why and she didn't even really like the song but for whatever reason she couldn't help it.


‘Oh you can dance, you can jive’
 ‘Having the time of your life’
‘Oh see that girl, watch that scene’
‘Diggin’ the dancin’ queen.’

She was pulled the dance floor by some otherworldly force and she began to move, like really move. She felt like Olivia Newton-John in Saturday Night Fever.

And then she saw him, that handsome husky boy in the corner, he didn't have the washboard abs of the boring pretty boys and she liked it that way there was something mysterious about him.

She had to have him.

She swayed her hips with the rhythm of the music making away across the dance floor locking on him like a predator, sliding right into his orbit.


‘You coming to look for a king’
‘anybody could be that guy’
‘night is young and the music's high’


“You dance?” she asked although it wasn't really a question, but a command.

He didn't seem too sure at first but then their eyes met, and a sly grin appeared on his face as he set his glass down and allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor.

‘You are the dancing queen’
‘young and sweet only seventeen’
‘Dancing Queen’
‘Feel The Beat from the tambourine’
‘You can dance’
 ‘you can jive’
‘having the time of your life’
‘see that girl, watch that scene’
‘digging the dancing queen’


They were moving together and unison swaying together and feeling the music wrap around them.

“You've got rhythm mystery boy.“ she said with a smile.

“You kind of dragged it out of me.” smiled back.

“Something tells me you liked being dragged.” She said.

“Maybe a little.” he grinned

The crowd blurred around them and in this moment it was just her and this mysterious boy she had dragged onto the floor and he didn't even realize her claws were already sinking in.

"You got a name mystery boy?" she asked.

“Darian.” he replied.

“Victoria.”  she replied back. “And tonight Darian, you belong to me.”

He smiled back at her with a nod and they continued their dance as the sounds of ABBA came to an end.

‘You are the dancing queen.. ‘

And in that moment she was a dancing queen and she knew that she had found maybe not yet her king, but her new possession.

‘...diggin the dancing queen’

__________

With a tight grasp on Darian's wrist, she pulled him off the dance floor and didn't let go till they reached the bar where she sat him down, her nails scratching him just enough to let him know who was in control.

“Two margaritas.” she told the bartender.

"So do you always just drag strangers onto the dance floor?" he asked.

“Only the ones that look interesting.” she said “And you look far more interesting than all these soy boy beta cucks.”

The drinks arrived and they took them into a corner booth away from the noise.

“So what's your story Darian” she asked.

“Trouble.” he grinned

“I like trouble.” she grinned back.

“Drifter..” he said "Originally born and raised in Daytona. I spent most of my adult life drifting about here and there with no real place to call home. Trouble tends to follow me wherever I go.”

“And tonight you let trouble buy you a drink.” she grinned

They both shared a genuine laugh together.

“Well careful trouble tends to like me.” he grinned back.

“Maybe it already does”, she said, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment they just let their eyes meet, sipping their drinks.

“So does trouble have her own story?” he asked.

“Well I was born into a family where everyone wants to be the center of the universe.”
she said "I learned at a young age that you need to shine brighter than the rest so you don't get swallowed whole, so I do my best to shine and make no apologies for it.”

“Sounds exhausting.” he said.

“It's the life I live as a pro wrestler.” she said “Some people out there like me, most of them hate me but they never ignore me.”

“Professional wrestler.” he said intrigued “That's why you walk like you own the room.”

“Well you don't seem intimidated.” she said.

“Should I be?” he said, his lips curving into a smile.

“Maybe a little.” she grinned.

With a smile he raised his glass and they clinked them together.

“To trouble.” he said.

“To trouble.” she replied with a smile.

She had already slid out the booth by the time their glasses had emptied, extending her hand toward him with an expectant look in her eyes.

“You're not disappearing back into the corner mystery boy.” she said.

“Hadn't planned on it.” he replied.

“Good because you're coming with me.” she said, “Tonight you're really getting into trouble.”

And with that Darian let himself be led out by the temptress. Claimed and conquered, but he didn't mind it one bit, and Victoria was happy to have herself a new toy to play with.

__________

The cameras open on the sands of South Miami Beach as Victoria steps in the frame, we can hear the sound of sand crunching beneath her boots as her gaze locks into the camera the night circling around her.

“How are we doing Candy?” she began “Has it begun to sink in? Have your voices told you of the horrors that are coming your way? Because this isn't just some match where you can come in and flash your smile and throw your glitter and walk away.”

She laughs.

“It's not going to work like that sweetheart.” She said “This isn't about being charming and flashy, it's about dominance and control and leaving a mark that lasts after the bell rings and the lights go out. Every grain of sand on this beach is a battlefield and the battlefield is where I thrive.”

Her voice beams with confidence and power.

"Even with me being off my game I'm still one of the most feared Bombshells on this roster." Victoria said "Certainly more fear than you Candy.  Every move I make is calculated and precise and you're going to find out the hard way that stepping in the ring with Victoria Lyons is no walk in the park, but by then it will be too late.”

She lets her gaze harden on the camera.

"You see Candy I didn't become the longest reigning Bombshell Roulette Champion of all time by letting others dictate the pace or letting someone else take control.” she said "I claim control, and I show no mercy and I will give no second chances. All you will have left is the reality of my rule and your place beneath it.”

She laughs.

“I don't just fight to win. I fight to control.” said Victoria, “You're stepping into the ring with a queen and I'm going to bury you under my rule.”

She pauses.

“You want to see control?” she said “You want to see what obedience looks like?”

She motions to someone off camera as a husky male with shaggy hair and a beard drags his legs behind him as he crawls up to her Neil's beside her and caresses her legs and abdomen looking up with a smile.

“This is Darian.” she said “You can consider him Vincent's replacement of sorts, but unlike my insolent brother,  this one is obedient, this one actually listens and this one knows his place beneath his Queen, isn't that right pet?.”

“Yes my queen.” Darian says.

“Very good.” said Victoria “You see this is obedience, this is loyalty, and where you see your queen you will see her pet in her corner.  My sweet Darian who can satisfy me in ways my brother is unable to, nor should he unless you're some sick freak from Alabama or something.”

Darian and Victoria both laugh.

“My pet isn't here to seek any glory for himself.” she said “He is here to support and serve his queen.  Most importantly he does what I say. “

She clears her throat.

“Bark like a dog.” she said.

On cue Darian barked.

“Now do a cat.” she said.

Darian meowed.

“Stand up.” she said.

Darian rose to his feet

“Now Vogue.” she said.

Darian did a Vogue dance that would rival even Madonna's.

“Return.” she said.

Quickly he was back kneeling by her side caressing her abdomen.

“That is what you call power Candy.” Victoria said “Something you will never obtain. I am going to bury you in sand candy and you're only hope is that you resurrect into something better.”

She pauses to nod to the camera and begins walking off toward the left side.

“Follow.” she said

Darian obediently followed her off camera as everything faded to black.
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