PROVE YOUR WORTH
UNLV, WILLIAM S. BOYD SCHOOL OF LAW
The campus was waking up under a pale Nevada sun, the city humming softly in the background. LJ Kasey’s boots clicked across the polished concrete hallway of the Boyd Law building, backpack slung over one shoulder, the weight of textbooks pressing down like a reminder that this was real now. No ring. No crowd. No adrenaline-soaked chaos. Just him and the law.
It had been two weeks since classes started, and already LJ could feel the shift in himself. Wrestling had taught him patience, strategy, timing—but this? This demanded precision in a different way. Words mattered more than strikes, logic over brute force, every syllable an opportunity to cut clean through the noise.
He stepped into Roth Lecture Hall, familiar by now, the hum of overhead lights mixing with the soft shuffle of students setting up laptops and folding notes. The smell of coffee, paper, and ambition was tangible. He nodded to a few classmates who recognized him from orientation, but LJ kept to the back corner, as he always did, watching before diving in.
Professor Roth was already speaking, pacing near the front like a conductor orchestrating a symphony of ideas.
“Case law doesn’t exist to tell us what to do,” Roth was saying, "It exists to make us ask the right questions. Every ruling, every precedent, is a conversation. You either contribute or you fade into silence.”
LJ leaned forward, pen in hand, absorbing every word. He had written a thousand words in his wrestling journals about strategy, opponents, and mistakes. Now he translated that focus into arguments, analogies, and counterpoints.
When Roth paused and asked, “Mr. Kasey, your take on the limits of statutory interpretation in United States v. Lopez?” LJ didn’t hesitate.
“Professor, the Court’s reasoning illustrates the tension between federal authority and individual liberty. The decision wasn’t just about a high school gun case, it was about how far Congress can reach into areas traditionally managed by the states. If we don’t interrogate the boundaries of that authority, we risk allowing legality to masquerade as morality. The law becomes a blunt instrument, not a measured one.”
A quiet stir moved through the room. Roth’s eyes narrowed, studying LJ like a scout reading a play.
“Excellent,” he said, voice low but deliberate, "Concise. Thoughtful. You didn’t just recite precedent; you connected principle to practice. That’s rare in a first-year student.”
LJ sat back, heart pounding just slightly, not from nerves, but from the rush of recognition. This wasn’t applause from a crowd. It wasn’t validation from a promoter. This was acknowledgment from someone who saw potential and sharpened it with focus.
Two weeks in, and LJ Kasey could feel the rhythm of law school settling in like a second heartbeat. Every case read, every argument formed, was another step in building something beyond wrestling. Something permanent. Something that didn’t require him to prove himself against another man in a ring to earn respect.
And for the first time in months, maybe even years, LJ allowed himself a small, private smile. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
The classroom buzzed faintly as students argued quietly in clusters, notebooks open, laptops glowing. LJ Kasey sat in his usual back-row corner, posture relaxed but alert, absorbing the chatter. Two weeks in, he had observed patterns: who spoke to dominate, who spoke to impress, and who spoke without knowing what they were saying.
Professor Roth clapped his hands once.
“Alright, let’s debate statutory limits under the Commerce Clause. Mr. Hayes, why don’t you start?”
A tall, cocky student from the front row stood, voice dripping with assumed superiority, "Well, clearly, some of these foreign students are still learning our system. So maybe if they try to follow, we can explain it slowly.”
A few classmates chuckled nervously. LJ’s jaw tightened. LJ just let out a calm breath before muttering, “Oh, this should be fun.”
Professor Roth glances towards LJ, “Mr. Kasey, your response?”
LJ leaned forward, voice smooth and controlled, each word measured, "Professor, respectfully, the assumption that nationality or accent dictates understanding of law is not just inaccurate, it’s intellectually lazy. To interpret the Commerce Clause, one doesn’t require birthplace, but the ability to analyze precedent and the Constitution’s intent. Let’s take Gonzales v. Raich, for example. Hayes’ point implies a limitation on federal reach only because he presumes foreign students cannot synthesize these arguments independently. That’s...incorrect.”
Hayes’ smirk faltered, "Well, sure, but...”
LJ cutting him off, voice sharpening continues, “But nothing. The Court consistently balances federal authority with personal liberties, weighing economic impact against states’ rights. The idea that one’s nationality could impair their capacity to parse this is not just a straw man -- it’s a straw man dressed in arrogance and dressing arrogance in condescension does not make it argumentation. It makes it rhetoric. Ineffective rhetoric.”
A few heads turned, eyebrows raised. Even the professor leaned slightly forward, impressed by the precision.
“Moreover,” LJ continued, warming to his point, “If we accept Mr. Hayes’ flawed premise, we are creating a hierarchy of comprehension based on irrelevant criteria. The law is not democratic in that way, it’s analytical, critical, and accessible to anyone willing to engage with it seriously. This is what differentiates argument from noise.”
Hayes’ face went pale. He opened his mouth again, but Roth held up a hand, "Mr. Kasey, I think that covers it perfectly. Thank you for demonstrating that comprehension isn’t determined by background, but by rigor. Mr. Hayes, I suggest you take notes.”
LJ leaned back in his chair, a small, self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. The room had shifted slightly. His classmates now looked at him differently, not as the British outsider, but as someone sharp, fearless, and dangerously articulate.
For the first time, LJ realized law school wasn’t just going to be about learning the law. It was about staking his claim in it, just like he had in the ring.
The bell had rung, but LJ Kasey lingered in his seat a moment longer, letting the classroom’s tension settle like dust after a storm. His pen rested lightly on the notebook, smudges of ink from his quick scribbles, but his mind was elsewhere. Hayes’ sneer, the faint laughter that followed, the subtle shift in the room’s energy, all of it replayed quietly in his head.
When he finally stood, the chair scraped softly against the floor. LJ slung his backpack over one shoulder, adjusted his hoodie, and started down the hallway, his boots echoing on polished concrete.
He could feel the stares now, some curious, some tentative, all measured. Students who had whispered under their breath about “that British guy” were now watching him differently. Not foreign. Not naive. Not a novelty. Dangerous, in a way that made them lean in, just slightly, to see what came next.
Two classmates, a pair of third-years who often debated loudly in the front row, fell into step beside him.
“Hey...uh, LJ? About earlier...”
“Yeah. That was...really solid. I mean, Hayes, I don’t even know. You kind of ripped him apart.”
LJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t slow his pace. He could sense the hesitation behind their words, the mix of relief and awe, as if he’d crossed some invisible threshold, "I didn’t rip him apart. I just pointed out what he ignored. There’s a difference.”
The pair exchanged glances, and LJ could practically see the internal calculations running behind their eyes. He allowed himself a small smirk, "Still you’re quick and clear. Most people would’ve stumbled over that, especially Hayes.”
LJ nodded for a moment, “Most people are too busy trying to sound smart to actually be smart.”
He paused at the doorway, the sunlight from the courtyard spilling over him, warming his shoulders.
“So do you, uh, want to grab coffee or something later? Maybe talk through some of the cases?”
LJ considered it for a moment, then nodded once, sharply.
“Sure. I have a little time before I have to pick my girlfriend up at the airport.”
As they walked on together toward the campus café, LJ’s mind flickered briefly to wrestling, the adrenaline, the strategy, the theater of performance. But here, in law school, the stakes were quieter, deeper, and somehow just as thrilling.
-----
A LONG AWAITED QUESTION ANSWERED
MCCARRAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, LAS VEGAS – LATE AFTERNOON
LJ Kasey sat with his car, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping a steady rhythm against the leather. He had arrived early, of course, perfectionism wasn’t optional, especially when picking up someone as important as Alexandra.
The airport parking lot buzzed with travelers, rolling luggage and last-minute farewells. LJ scanned the arrivals board, spotting her gate. Alexandra Callaway emerged, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, her raven hair catching the golden sunlight. She paused, scanning the line of cars, then caught his eye.
LJ opened the door before she even reached the curb, stepping out, "Ello angel.”
Her face broke into a smile, the kind that made the heat, the noise, and the bustle fade, "LJ! Finally.”
He closed the space between them in two strides, wrapping her up in a hug, pulling her off her feet for a moment, before gently taking her bag from her shoulder, "Well, you know me. Early and annoyingly punctual.”
Ally laughs, as she takes his arm and they take a short stroll to his car, “Annoyingly punctual, huh? I thought that was your British charm.”
He rolled his eyes playfully, tossing her bag into the trunk, "The charm is optional. Being organized? Mandatory.”
They climbed into the car, the engine humming to life. LJ stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye, the faintest smile tugging at his lips, "Vegas traffic, airport chaos...nothing compared to missing you.”
Alexandra reached across, brushing her hand over his.“I missed you too. The city’s brighter when I know you’re around.”
LJ’s eyes flicked briefly to the rearview mirror, then back to the road, but the warmth stayed, "You’re going to like the apartment. I’ve upped my game. Books in order, papers stacked, chaos contained. I’m almost respectable now.”
Alexandra raised an eyebrow “Almost?”
“Hey, give me time. Law school just started a couple of weeks ago. I need to look like I know what I’m doing before they see me sweat.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head, "You always find a way to impress, without even trying, it seems.”
“Well, I try. You just see the polished version.”
The ride to his apartment was quiet in that comfortable way only moments like this could be. No rushing, no deadlines, just two people reconnecting. LJ kept stealing glances at her, and she returned them with gentle teasing smiles and subtle laughter.
When they arrived, he jumped out to open the trunk again, pulling her bags inside and gesturing toward the apartment.
“Welcome back to my little corner of organized chaos.”
Alexandra stepped inside, looking around at the neat stacks of books, the freshly arranged furniture, and the small touches LJ had added to make the space feel lived-in, "Wow… you really did get it together.”
“Told you. Almost respectable.”
She dropped her bag with a soft thud, then crossed the room, throwing her arms around him. LJ hugged her back, careful, grounding himself in the moment.
“It’s good to be back, LJ. I’ve missed this...missed you.”
“Missed you too, love. More than I realized.”
For the first time in weeks, LJ felt fully present, not in the ring, not in class, not on a tour. Just here, just this, the start of a week together before Cyprus, before the next challenge. And for once, he let himself breathe.
LJ Kasey took a seat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. Alexandra Callaway stood nearby, arms folded, watching him with that patient, knowing smile that could pierce right through his careful control.
The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and old leather, the shelves lined with neatly stacked law books and wrestling journals. Everything had a place, just like LJ wanted it. And now, after the chaos of Vegas, wrestling tours, and law school prep, this apartment felt more like home than it ever had before.
“Okay...I’m going to say it. Straight up. No dancing around this.”
Ally tilted her head, eyebrow raised, sensing the seriousness in his tone, "Oh? This is serious, huh? Go on, then. Hit me.”
LJ took a slow breath, letting it out like a quiet release of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding, "You know how much I love having you here. And I mean, more than just visiting. You being around is always something that I immensely look forward to. But I need to know, have you given it any real thought to what we talked about a couple of weeks ago? Not joking, not teasing...I’m asking if you would move in with me. Permanently.”
Ally’s lips curved into that mischievous, slow-building smile that made his chest tighten, "Real thought, huh? You think I haven’t? LJ, you’ve been waiting for this question for months.”
LJ groaned, leaning back slightly, "Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting to be tortured about it first and then I finally got around to asking you but I never asked directly. I know you had a lot to consider, especially with Ashlynn”
Ally had to laugh because he was so like his brother with the rambling when he got frustrated, it was a cute Kasey trait. But she stood there with her arms folded, “Life doesn’t give out answers that easily. I wanted to make sure you could handle the wait.”
LJ’s jaw tightened. He leaned forward, eyes locked on her, heart thumping, "Well part of me feels like I’ve waited long enough. So...tell me? And if you say no, I’ve got a pint of rocky road waiting to cry into...”
Ally paused, savoring the moment, teasing him just long enough to make him squirm, before her voice softened, "…Yes. I’ve thought about it, LJ. And I’m ready. I’ll move in with you.”
LJ’s lips parted, a grin breaking across his face, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing, "For real? Both you and Ashlynn?” And Ally nodded, and LJ let go of a breath that he wasn’t aware that he was holding, “Finally. Took you long enough.”
Ally playfully smiled, “I wanted to make sure you’d appreciate it properly.”
LJ stood, crossing the small space between them, and took her hands in his. The apartment, with its neat stacks of books and quiet order, no longer felt like just a space. It felt like theirs—a home they were choosing to build together. He leaned closer, forehead resting gently against hers, letting the steady rhythm of her breathing sync with his.
“You have no idea how much this...you...means to me.”
Ally tilted her head, a small smile brushing her lips, "I think I might.”
For a moment, they simply held each other, the hum of the city outside forgotten. Then LJ brushed a fingertip across her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and leaned in slowly.
Their lips met, tentative at first, a careful press that spoke of patience and trust. Then, as if all the waiting and uncertainty of the last year had built to this, the kiss deepened, soft, steady, grounding. LJ’s hand slid to the small of her back, drawing her closer, and Ally responded in kind, letting herself sink into him.
When they finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, LJ rested his forehead against hers again, whispering, “Home...feels like this now.”
Ally smiled, eyes shimmering in the last of the sunlight, "Yeah it does.”
-----
MAIN EVENT MINDSET
EMPTY TRAINING ROOM, CYPRUS
The echo of bouncing balls and clang of weights had long faded. The training room was quiet now, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. LJ Kasey paced slowly across the polished floor, fists clenched and unclenched, his mind running the match over and over again.
Vincent Lyons Jr. wasn’t just any opponent. He was clever, dangerous, and unpredictable—the kind of man who thrived on exploiting a single mistake. But LJ didn’t flinch. He thrived on challenges. He thrived on proving he belonged.
“Vincent thinks this is just another warm-up,” LJ muttered to himself, voice low but hard, "Non-title match. The crowd's not expecting anything. He thinks he’s untouchable come Sunday.” He shook his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips, "He doesn’t know what’s coming. He doesn’t know I’ve been waiting for a moment like this my entire life.”
He stopped at the center of the room, letting the silence fill the space, "This isn’t about belts. It’s about respect. Momentum. Showing him and everyone else that LJ Kasey doesn’t just show up. I dominate. I take what I’ve earned. And tonight...that starts with Vincent.”
He dropped lightly into a shadow-boxing stance, imagining Lyons across from him, "We all know that he’s not above the cheats, he will play mind games, and he will lean on the roulette chaos. Fucking let him. I’ve got strategy, instinct, and focus. And I’m not waiting for a mistake. I’m making the first one count.”
LJ’s voice dropped to a low growl, "Vincent’s smart. He’ll try to get in my head, play the mind games, spin the crowd, make me react before I think. But I’ve been studying him. Every tactic, every hesitation, every flashy taunt he’s ever pulled on a rookie or a peer, I’ve seen it. I know it.”
He clenched his fists, flexing his fingers as though feeling the imagined resistance of Vincent in front of him, "He underestimates me because I’m not fighting for a belt. He thinks I’m just another warm-up, another face to look impressive against. He doesn’t see what I’ve been building, what I’ve earned. This isn’t just about a win in Cyprus. This is about proving I belong in this ring with anyone, anywhere. That I’m more than a shadow, more than a name. I’m a force.”
A quiet breath, measured. He tapped the floor once, twice, thinking through the spin of the Roulette wheel, the potential twists, the spots Vincent would exploit. LJ smiled grimly, "This is more than just a match. It’s a statement, a reminder. It’s a reminder that I am here and that I belong. And Vincent? Tonight, you’re just the first example.”
LJ took a deep breath, steadying his heartbeat, “Non-title or not, the stakes couldn’t be higher. Momentum, respect, positioning, all of it. A win here, a clean, calculated, dominating win, it tells the world I’m ready. Ready for the gold, ready for the main stage, ready for the chaos that even the roulette division can bring.”
He straightened, shoulders squared, letting his mind shift from rehearsal to resolve, "Non-title...No matter. The stakes are higher than ever, because it’s my momentum, my credibility, my career on the line just like every time I step into that ring. And when it’s done...everyone will know exactly who LJ Kasey is.”
Quiet, controlled, ready. Not in front of the crowd. Not for anyone else. Just him. Just the fight.
