Turnberry Towers
Las Vegas
The elevator chimed softly as LJ stepped out, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand, Ally beside him, and Ashlynn trailing just behind with her phone tucked into her back pocket. The hall smelled faintly of lemon polish and expensive carpeting, and LJ adjusted his shirt collar, muttering under his breath.
“Every time I come here, I feel underdressed.”
Ally shot him a look, amused as she reached for the doorbell, “You’re in a button-up and slacks. You’re fine. Stop fussing.”
“It’s Miles and Carter’s place. I feel like everytime I come in here, security should be trailing me.”
Before Ally could tease him further, the door swung open. Miles leaned against the frame with that signature grin, barefoot, jeans and a t-shirt on, as casual as ever.
“About time, baby brother,” Miles said, pulling LJ into a quick hug before leaning around him to greet Ally with a cheek kiss and Ashlynn with a grin and a quick hug, “C’mon in, Carter’s finishing up in the kitchen, and don’t worry he didn’t attempt to cook tonight. And...fair warning, Ms. Thang is in a mood.”
As if summoned, the sleek tuxedo cat slinked into view, tail flicking. Her green eyes locked on LJ like he had personally insulted her ancestors.
“Oh, bloody hell,” LJ muttered, "Here we go.”
Ms. Thang trotted straight over, sniffed his shoe, and swatted his ankle with a disdainful paw before trotting off like she owned the whole tower.
Ally stifled a laugh, "I think she likes you.”
“That’s liking me?” LJ scoffed, rubbing his ankle, "I don’t want to know what hating me looks like.”
The apartment smelled incredible, something roasted, garlic-heavy, with one of Carter’s favorite restaurants’ signature flair. LJ followed Miles inside, setting the wine on the counter. From the living room, the sound of a video game bled faintly into the air.
That’s where Kevin was, curled up in an armchair, controller in hand, focus locked on the screen. He looked healthier now, fuller, a bit of color in his cheeks compared to the frail, haunted boy LJ remembered in that hospital bed. When he noticed them, Kevin quickly paused the game, sitting straighter. His eyes darted toward Ashlynn for a second, just long enough to betray his nerves, before settling on LJ, "Hey, Kev. How are ya, mate?”
“Hey,” Kevin muttered, "Uh, look, before dinner, I just wanted to say something.”
The room went a little quieter, Ally gently nudging Ashlynn toward the kitchen to give them space. Miles lingered, but didn’t speak, just folding his arms across his chest and watching carefully.
Kevin shifted, rubbing the back of his neck, "Last time I saw you, I was kind of a jerk. Okay, I was a total jerk. I didn’t trust anybody, and you didn’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”
LJ studied him for a moment, the weight of sincerity clear in the boy’s voice. Slowly, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“You were a jerk,” LJ said flatly. Then his grin widened, "But trust me, if I were in your shoes, I’d probably have told myself to bugger off too. So the apology is accepted. Fresh start, yeah?”
Kevin blinked, then gave a small, tentative smile, "Yeah. Fresh start.”
Miles clapped a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, before shooting LJ a look that said good job.
Just then, Ms. Thang returned, leaping gracefully into Kevin’s lap and curling into a perfect ball, purring like a motor. LJ threw his hands up.
“Oh, of course. Of course the bloody cat likes you.”
Kevin smirked, stroking her fur, "She’s got good taste.”
The dining table was set simply but elegantly, Carter’s restaurant spread dominating the middle with steaming platters of roasted chicken, garlic potatoes, and roasted vegetables. Crystal glasses caught the light from the chandelier overhead, the whole thing looking far too classy for LJ’s comfort. He pulled out a chair for Ally before sitting himself, already eyeing the potatoes like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Alright,” Miles said, pouring wine into Carter’s glass and then his own, “Let’s all pretend this isn’t a family dinner that’s about to devolve into sarcasm and chaos.”
LJ smirked, stabbing a potato with his fork, "That’s optimistic, even for you.”
Across from him, Kevin sat with Ms. Thang perched regally on his lap, as if she’d been invited to dinner too. She purred loudly every time his hand moved, tail swishing like she was queen of the table. LJ swore she shot him a look every so often, daring him to object.
“Can someone explain why the cat has better table manners than LJ?” Carter quipped, arching a brow as he passed the chicken platter.
“Oi, I’ll have you know my table manners are impeccable.” LJ gestured with his fork, mid-chew, crumbs threatening to betray him.
Miles nearly choked on his wine, "Impeccable, he says. You’re stabbing your spuds like they personally insulted you.”
Ally reached over and gently nudged LJ’s arm down, "Chew first. Talk later. Then you can claim impeccable manners.”
Ashlynn, seated beside Kevin, snorted into her glass of water. That small, involuntary laugh seemed to break something open for Kevin, who glanced at her sideways.
“So,” Kevin started cautiously, picking at his plate, “You’re going to school here in Vegas?”
“Yeah,” Ashlynn said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "Junior year. Just transferred in with the move from Texas.” She tilted her head, studying him, "You’re sixteen, right?”
“Yeah,” Kevin said, shifting uncomfortably but not pulling away from the conversation, "Sophomore, because of everything that happened. Different school though. Mine’s well...public and a bit smaller.” He hesitated, then added, “Probably a good thing.”
Ashlynn gave him a crooked grin, "Smaller schools mean less drama. You’re lucky.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Ally cut in warmly, sipping her wine, "She thrives on the drama.”
“Mom!” Ashlynn groaned, rolling her eyes.
The table laughed, even Kevin, who ducked his head but smiled for real this time. LJ caught it, and for once didn’t say anything, just filed it away with a small nod of approval.
“Anyway,” Miles said, leaning back in his chair, “We’ll have to compare notes. I survived high school by being the ones with quick comebacks and even quicker legs. Knowing Carter, I’m sure there were plenty of times that his mouth got him in trouble.”
“That’s not true,” Carter countered smoothly, “I mean, it sort of was but I knew when and where.”
LJ lifted his glass in mock salute, "And thus a legend was born.”
“More like an ego,” Miles muttered, earning himself a sharp jab in the ribs from Carter.
Meanwhile, Ms. Thang had stretched luxuriously across Kevin’s lap, then hopped onto the table as if it were her rightful throne. She padded right across to LJ’s plate, sniffed at his chicken, and promptly sat down square in front of him, tail flicking against his glass.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” LJ groaned, leaning back in his chair, "She does this on purpose. She’s trying to ruin me.”
Kevin chuckled, reaching to scoop her up and to LJ’s shock, Ms. Thang actually allowed it, curling into his arms without a fuss.
“She just doesn’t like you,” Kevin said, stroking her fur, "Have you ever thought that maybe it’s because you have a slight scent to you that smells like catnip and she thinks you are holding out on her?”
The whole table burst out laughing, LJ raised his hands in mock surrender, "Wait...for real?”
The boy smirked faintly, the kind of smile that hinted he was finally, slowly, settling into this new world.
Carter cringes ever so slightly, “Well there goes that.”
Miles smirked, “It was only a matter of time, love.”
“Wait!” LJ looked over at his brother and Carter, “YOU KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME?!?!”
-----
Movie Night
This was one of those rare nights when LJ and Ally had the time to just relax and not stress out about work, or school. Ash was also finished with all her work for the week and was just putting the finishing touches on her essay when Alexandra leaned on the door frame.
“Hey Ash, are you almost done there?” She spoke softly.
“Just about. Another few sentences and it will be finished. Why?” Ash looked up at her mom.
“Well there's popcorn and we were about to watch Marvel Thunderbolts if you want to join us.” She thumbed over her shoulder, "I mean unless you were planning on calling over to talk to Kevin.”
“No. I think he’s busy with his dads tonight,” Ash finishes off the essay and shrugs.
“Then come on out and join us when you are ready,” she smirks and walks back out to the living room, "Ash will be in shortly. She seems kind of quiet tonight. Maybe it’s just the stress of school.”
Alexandra sat down next to LJ and snuggled in. On the table in front of them were snacks and drinks to enjoy while they watched a film, like a family. One of the first in the new home. Alexandra was just about to say something more when Ashlynn flopped onto the chair and took a bag of popcorn off the table.
“Let’s do this, Movie night!” She chimed in happily.
“Alright.” Alexandra looks over at LJ and nods.
The opening credits lit up the screen, casting a soft glow across the living room. LJ stretched out on the couch, one arm slung over Alexandra’s shoulders as she curled in close. The smell of buttered popcorn filled the room, mingling with the faint citrus scent of Ally’s shampoo.
Ashlynn had claimed the oversized armchair, legs tucked underneath her, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap like a shield. She was already sneaking handfuls before the movie even got through the studio logos.
“You’re going to eat it all before the first fight scene,” LJ teased, tossing a piece of his own popcorn at her.
Ashlynn caught it midair with a dramatic snap of her mouth, chewing smugly, "Please. Rookie mistake. I’ve got the whole bowl strategy mapped out. Pacing is everything.”
Alexandra chuckled, shaking her head, "Only you would turn popcorn into a science.”
“Hey, survival of the fittest,” Ash shot back, grinning.
Halfway through, Ashlynn groaned dramatically when a favorite character took a hit, "If they kill him off, I swear, I’m rioting.”
“Rioting where?” LJ asked, smirking, "Here? In my living room?”
“With the popcorn,” Ashlynn declared, waving her half-empty bowl like a weapon.
“Not the popcorn!” Alexandra gasped in mock horror, "That’s sacred.”
LJ laughed, the sound low and warm, before leaning over to kiss the top of Ally’s head. Ashlynn pretended to gag loudly at the display, throwing a piece of popcorn at them. Alexandra just stuck her tongue out, and LJ, never missing a beat, threw it right back at Ashlynn, sparking a miniature popcorn war until the three of them were laughing so hard they had to pause the movie.
By the time the credits rolled across the screen, the popcorn was mostly gone and Ashlynn had surrendered to sleep. She was curled sideways in the armchair, her head nestled against the armrest, an empty bowl sliding dangerously close to her lap. Alexandra smiled, rising gently to pull a throw blanket over her daughter.
“She’s out cold,” Ally whispered, returning to the couch and tucking herself back against LJ’s side.
“Movie nights are brutal, apparently,” LJ murmured, his eyes soft on Ash before turning back to Ally. He kissed the top of her hair, lingering there, but when he leaned back again, his face had shifted. Serious.
Ally noticed immediately, "What’s on your mind?”
“My match,” LJ said, almost before she finished asking, "Climax Control. It’s just me this time. After what we did in Miami, I thought… I don’t know. Maybe they’d keep us together a little longer. Let us build on it. Instead, it’s back to me on my own.” He let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, "And of course, it’s against Vincent Lyons Jr. Non-title. Which is bollocks, if you ask me.”
Ally turned toward him, searching his face, "You sound more annoyed than usual.”
“Because I am,” LJ admitted, "I’ve been patient and I’ve waited. I’ve shown up, I’ve fought, I’ve bled, and I’ve put my name on the map. But what do I get? A non-title match against the guy holding the very belt I should have had a chance at months ago.” His jaw tightened, the frustration bubbling up now that he finally allowed it, "And beating him? It’s not a walk in the park. Lyons....he’s really fucking good and absolutely mad. And even if I do beat him, what does it prove? That I can? I need more than ‘can.’ I need ‘do’. I need it official. I need the shot.”
Ally laid her hand gently over his, grounding him, "So show them, babe. Show Lyons. Show them all. Title match or not, you walk into that ring and make it undeniable. If it’s uphill, then climb it. Make it so high they can’t ignore you standing at the top.”
Her words hit him harder than he expected, soft but sharp in the way only she could manage. He looked at her for a long moment, his features softening as her steady gaze held his. Then, slowly, he let out a breath and nodded.
“You know,” he said finally, his lips quirking into a wry smile, “You’re bloody good at this pep talk business, you know this right?”
“Well it’s not the only thing I’m good at. But it’s because I believe in you,” she replied simply, brushing her thumb over his knuckles.
For the first time since the movie ended, LJ’s chest eased. He pulled her closer, kissing her temple, his voice quiet but certain, "Then I’ll make sure they start believing too.”
----
Surgical Precision
The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city bleeding through the blinds. LJ stood in the middle of his living room, still in the clothes he’d worn all day, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight. His voice cut through the silence, sharp and unflinching.
“You know what really grinds me down about this whole thing? It’s been over a year since I walked through those SCW doors. Over a year since I’ve busted my arse proving I belong here. And what have I gotten in return? The same old song and dance, ‘Be patient, Kasey. Your time will come. Just wait your turn.’”
He laughed, dry and humorless, shaking his head.
“I’ve watched idiots, absolute clowns, manage the impossible. I’ve seen people stumble their way into opportunities, trip over the ropes, and still walk out with gold around their waist. And me? I’m told to sit tight. To clap politely from the sidelines while others get handed what I’ve been grinding for. Well, I’m done waiting, lads.”
His eyes narrowed, focus sharpening like a blade.
“Vincent Lyons Jr., Roulette Champion. Big, flashy name. Holds the belt, walks the walk, talks the talk. But you know what? That belt isn’t on the line when you face me. Convenient, innit? A nice little safety net. Because if it was, you and everyone else would be biting their nails wondering if this was the night it slipped right out of your hands. And don’t fool yourself, if I beat you...and I will, that’s exactly what it’s going to feel like. Because I’m not walking into this match to ‘make an impression.’ I’m walking in to make an example out of you.”
He leaned forward, voice low, deliberate, venom threaded through every syllable.
“You’ve gotten comfortable, Lyons. You’ve been sitting pretty with that belt, thinking it makes you untouchable. But comfort is a weakness. Comfort is when the wolves start circling and I am that wolf. You cannot rest on your laurels and overlook what’s standing dead in front of you, and that’s me. Lyle Kasey Jr. Not Miles’ little brother. Not Carter’s brother-in-law. Me. The man who’s been told to wait his turn long enough, and who’s decided his turn is now.”
His lips curled into a dangerous grin.
“So they said it’s a non-title match? Fine, that’s absolutely just fine. But when I pin you to that mat, when I leave you staring at the lights, the whole bloody world is going to know exactly what should have happened all along. And that’s me walking into Violent Conduct not asking for a shot—but demanding it. You’re not just fighting to keep your momentum, Vincent. You’re fighting to keep your head above water, because I’m coming to drag you under.”
He straightened, exhaling through his nose, steady but burning.
“You know the line they keep feeding you?” he said, voice soft but precise, "‘Vincent brings a violent, unstable edge; LJ brings charisma.’ They say it like it’s a fact carved into the ring apron. Like that two-word epitaph defines me while the other guy gets to play monster.”
He let the words hang, then smiled, not warm, but flat, dangerous.
“Let me tell you the truth. The label ‘unstable’ is the easiest thing to sell. It’s loud and it’s terrifying to some. It’s what gets people to sit up and watch, but loud doesn’t mean lethal. Unstable doesn’t mean unbreakable. It means a story people are comfortable telling because it’s simple.”
He stepped closer to the camera, intensity coiling in his posture.
“Vincent’s brand is chaos. He wears it like armor. And when people wear their armor like a costume, they forget how to actually fight smart. They forget that there’s technique to cruelty, elegance to brutality. They mistake loud for effective. They mistake noise for power.”
LJ’s voice became colder, almost surgical.
“My chaos is different. I don’t shout; I calculate. I find the seam and I press, and I don’t stop pressing until whatever’s holding you together unthreads. There’s a difference between breaking a man by accident and taking the time to dismantle him, bone by bone, reputation by reputation, until there’s nothing left but the sound of the bell and your name fading on someone else’s lips.”
His eyes locked to the lens, unblinking.
“So keep calling him violent. Call him unstable. Put that fear in people’s mouths. It doesn’t make him dangerous. It makes him predictable and predictable is a luxury I will not afford him.”
He walked through the room as if walking a scalpel over a map.
“When the bell rings, I will be a surgeon. I will make the same crowd that cheers his theatrics watch him flinch at deliberate things, small, sharp, unavoidable. A planted knee where his balance used to be. A counter he’s learned to expect but not how to answer. I’ll take his swagger and turn it into a liability. I will make him understand the difference between chaos that is a costume and chaos that is craftsmanship.”
LJ’s jaw set. No flourish. No flourish left, only intention.
“You think charisma is harmless? It’s adorable that you would. But watch how poisonous it becomes when it’s coupled with purpose. Watch how pretty speeches sound when they’re followed by precise damage.”
He stepped close enough that the camera filled with his face, the finality folding into the silence.
“Vincent Lyons, you’re not the first man who’s relied on a label to hide the rust beneath, and you won’t be the last to be unmade by someone who understands how to be ruthless and correct about it. I’m not coming to out-charisma you. I’m coming to take you apart, piece by piece, until your so-called edge is nothing more than a dull thing on the mat.”
He let that land, then finished, voice low and inexorable.
“And when I pin you? When your chest hits the canvas and the ref’s hand slaps down? That’s the sound of the story changing. That’s the sound of me stepping out of the background and into everything that matters. You will remember that sound for the rest of your life. Because when it’s over, and you realize you underestimated me, it won’t just be a loss on your record. It’ll be the start of my rise. And the beginning of your fall.”
