The cobblestone streets of Brussels seemed to glow under the soft amber light of the setting sun. The Grand Place, with its gothic architecture and ornate facades, stood like a silent witness to centuries of history. Yet, for Miles Kasey and Carter, the present moment felt timeless. Newly married, they strolled hand in hand through the bustling square, their laughter mingling with the distant chatter of tourists and the occasional chiming of a street musician’s guitar.
Carter, always observant, noticed the way Miles’ gaze seemed to drift off more frequently than usual, his expression distant even as he smiled. They paused in front of a charming café, the air thick with the aroma of fresh waffles and the faint, comforting scent of coffee.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Carter asked, tilting his head to catch Miles’ eye.
Usually between these two that would lead to some off the wall wild thought that would cause them but to laugh but Miles just blinked, his focus snapping back to the present. “Sorry, I was just... thinking about the match.”
Carter chuckled softly, squeezing Miles' hand. “I had a feeling. You’ve been different this week, more focused, more intense. Not that it’s a bad thing, but... you seem like you’re already in the ring, miles away from here.”
Miles sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked at Carter. “I guess I am, in a way. I almost fucked up the contendership match but....This match with Ally... it’s important, more than just another title shot. It feels like the start of something new, something big. Finn and Kayla, they’re no pushovers. They’ve been at the top for a reason, and I can’t shake this feeling that this is a make-or-break moment for us.”
Carter nodded, understanding the weight of the situation. “I get it. You’ve got a lot riding on this, and you’re pushing yourself because you care. But don’t forget, you’ve got Ally by your side, and you’ve got me. We’re in this together, okay?”
Miles met Carter’s eyes, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I know, and that means everything. It’s just... I’ve been here before, on the cusp of something great, and it’s slipped through my fingers. I can’t let that happen again.”
“You won’t,” Carter said firmly, pulling Miles into a brief, reassuring embrace. “You’re stronger now, smarter. And you’ve got more to fight for than ever before. Just remember to enjoy the ride, too. We’re in Brussels, for heaven’s sake. Let’s make some memories.”
Miles chuckled, the sound lighter than before. “Alright, alright. You’re right. Let’s go grab some waffles and see where the night takes us.”
With a renewed sense of purpose, they continued their stroll, the warmth of each other’s presence grounding them in the moment, even as the future loomed on the horizon.
---
Introspection
The night had settled in, casting a blanket of darkness over the bustling city. Miles Kasey sat alone in the dimly lit living room of his hotel suite, the curtains pulled back to reveal a panoramic view of the glittering Brussels skyline. The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioning, and the soft ticking of a clock on the wall—a gentle reminder that time was always moving forward, whether he was ready for it or not.
Miles leaned forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared at the empty whiskey glass on the coffee table. He had just finished his drink, the warmth of the alcohol still lingering in his chest, but his mind was far from the ease that a drink usually brought. His thoughts were racing, caught between the past and the future, between what had been and what could be.
His mind replayed the countless moments that had led him to this point—his rise through the ranks, the highs and lows, the victories and the losses. He thought back to the SCW Internet Title, to the moment he lost it to Peter Vaughn, and how that defeat had haunted him for months. How it had felt like a shadow, always lurking just behind him, ready to remind him of where he had stumbled.
“So hardcore focused on what has been instead of what could be,” Miles muttered to himself, his voice a low rumble in the stillness of the room. He could hear Finn Whelan’s voice in his head, taunting him, pushing him to dwell on his past failures instead of looking forward. Finn had always been a force to be reckoned with, a man who lived and breathed dominance. Miles knew that if Finn had his way, he’d have him stuck in that moment of loss forever, wallowing in it, defined by it.
But that wasn’t who Miles was—not anymore.
He stood up, moving to the window, the city lights reflecting in his eyes as he gazed out over Brussels. “I know damn well that if Finn Whelan had his choice on how I would dictate every inch of my career, he would have me sit in the past and wallow over the fact that months have passed since I lost the SCW Internet Title to that tosser Peter Vaughn. Not only did I lose it, but I lost the rematch and a chance at him for as long as he held on to it.”
Miles smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “The positive side of it, Vaughn has since been dethroned by Carter, and then Vaughn finally got a major dose of his own medicine and fucked off into the stratosphere, hopefully never to be heard from again.”
His reflection in the window stared back at him, and for a moment, Miles could see the fire in his own eyes, the determination that had always driven him, even when others had counted him out. “But while others have run away, I. AM. STILL. HERE!”
There it was—the core of who he was. Miles Kasey, the man who never quit, who never stopped fighting. “I feel like a lot of people never give me credit where credit is due. I am a persistent wanker when it comes down to it, and sometimes it leads to good things, and then it leads to the bad things. And I mean, I get it, I really do. How in the hell can someone who has a God-given talent like I do, putting on match-of-the-year candidates one after another, and yet I’m kicking around in the mid-card and I’m content in that position.”
He let out a breath, his hand resting against the cool glass of the window. He could see the trajectory of his career so clearly now—how he had risen through the ranks, his time in the Roulette Division, how he had once been content with that, just another name on the roster. But things had changed. He had changed.
“Keep in mind about two years ago I was content in the Roulette Division, and it just took one moment in time and a chance, and by some stroke of luck, it’s a boost into the next level. And I am so sorry, Finn, if my rise is not at the pace and speed ya want—that is on you and not me. I’m good at keeping a pace that isn’t going to burn me out and leave me absolutely nowhere else to go.”
Miles clenched his fist, his jaw tightening as he thought about Finn and Kayla Richards. “You and Kayla, you fucking rule SCW, and you barely broke a sweat. It’s pretty damn impressive, and anyone that doesn’t say otherwise is strictly fooling themselves. So now what, you hold a stranglehold on top forever? Gets boring and lonely at the top, as they say, and there aren’t many left that will give you the type of challenge that I know for an absolute fact is like no other than myself and Alexandra.”
He could feel the connection he shared with Ally, the way they had finally started to come together as a team. It wasn’t just a partnership born out of convenience or circumstance—it was something real, something that had taken time to build. “It’s finally been coming together, properly this time, and not just the two of us thrown together. I sort of have a soft spot for her. There are some people that seem to think she’s far too arrogant for her own good, but it’s for a damn good reason. She has an absolute ability to be a champion, and I’m honored that she would even want to team with a no-good prick from Manchester like yours truly. I’m sorry it took so long, Ally, for us to actually get our shite together. We spent the time we got off that plane from Thailand, and it is all finally starting to come together, dear. You feel the same as I do.”
He could see it now—the cracks in the armor of the Wolves of Winter, the tiny fractures that were beginning to show. And he knew that he and Ally were the ones to exploit them.
“With that being said, I think it’s time that the Wolves of Winter—because that’s what it actually means—get thawed out. There has to be a crack there somewhere, and somehow I seem to think that the crack is—and this is going to sound a little selfish—it’s me.”
Miles smirked again, his eyes narrowing with determination. “Kayla has always been up my ass about how she can’t stand my jolly good nature because apparently my optimistic outlook on life somehow sickens her to her very core. I used to be convinced that she just had a permanent stick up her ass, and well, we know she’s a hardened bitch, but she’s unbelievably talented. But she is already bored. She is bored with having to throw a whole division of bombshells on her back and carry them. She’s damn good at it, so she’s going to push and prod and challenge and do her damndest to piss everyone off in her path because that’s what she does.”
He could see the strategy now, the way Kayla had been playing everyone around her, manipulating them into reacting the way she wanted. But not him—not anymore.
“You let her engage you into a fight of wits, and it’s going to be a never-ending battle because she loves a fight, mental and physical. I know damn well Ally can match that snappy behavior, but Kayla lately has been letting Finn fight her battles for her. Kayla is bored, and she’s looking for a match, and I’m not talking about a match in the ring—I’m talking about someone that can engage in that cynicism that she clings desperately hard to. Not with Finn because we all know that he can match her, and that’s why they are so hard up for one another. She’s looking for an equal, and I have no doubt that Ally can do that.”
Miles ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his body easing as he spoke his thoughts out loud, as if affirming them to himself. He could feel the pieces falling into place, the strategy forming in his mind.
“As for the SCW World Champion, Finn ‘I am a constant hardass’ Whelan. How you doin’, mate? You off to tell me how much of a fuck-up I am? We’re going to run it back again and again, how I just never live up to that potential you see in me? Wait, let me guess—you are just so unbelievably that fucking good that you and Kayla are going to have no choice but to remain the SCW Mixed Tag Team Champions forever and ever and thus force Christian and Mark to once again retire those damn titles until they get begged to return them. Because you two have been so God damn dominant there hasn’t been a wretched pair of souls that have been able to do it...that is until two cheeky brats like myself and Ally absolutely refuse to go away and earn that shot, and suddenly we are both directly in your faces once again. And this time with something amazingly missing from the last few times, and that is called focus.”
Miles took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his own words, the gravity of what was at stake. This wasn’t just another match—this was a turning point, a moment that could redefine everything.
“Ally and I originally started this off as just two friends that were looking for a little bit of extra fun besides the singles runs we were having. Now we understand—to actually be a team, we need to work as one. Hell, we realized this even last week, and I made my trip back from Las Vegas just so we could do it. We’re kicking our own asses just to make this one different. We want those damn SCW Mixed Tag Titles, not for our own selfish purposes, but to save a dying division that YOU TWO created!”
He could feel the fire in his chest, the determination that had been building for weeks, months even, coming to a head. This was it—this was their moment.
“So go right ahead, Finnigan, tell everyone how I am not living up to my potential. Go ahead, Kayla, tell them just how pathetic we seem to you. COME ON, WOLVES OF WINTER, give me a fucking reason to show you guys why I have been keeping myself on the slow train. Wolfslair is something we have in common, but it does not matter here. I love you like a brother, Finn, but I’m going to make it abundantly clear just how wrong you are about me.”
He could see the future now, the path laid out before him. And it was a path he was ready to walk, no matter how hard, no matter how long it took. Because this time, he wasn’t alone—he had Ally by his side, and together, they were going to change everything.
“Let me put this in layman’s terms, just so that those that are listening completely understand...AND just because I wanna quote my favorite TikTok series ever, Hells Belles. You fucked up. You fucked all the way up. The minute you just kept poking and poking and poking, you yourselves got into the fucked elevator on the ground floor and rode it all the way to the rooftop of the tallest building ever conceived—this, of course, for you guys as a team meaning the SCW Mixed Tag Division...just to make sure that I’m making myself clear.”
Miles smiled to himself, feeling the weight of his words, the truth in them. “...continuing on...and it was only upon your arrival at said elevated station that you BOTH realized that you ignored all of the written and verbal warnings that this was a one-way trip. Now you are stuck on that lonely, miserable, cold rooftop....unless you decide to knock on the door and let us in. The problem is, if you let us in, you will have to take the trip down the stairs of consequence, which is indeed a laborious and somewhat time-consuming and it will be an extremely painful process. That process is, of course, myself and Alexandra finally cracking the ice of the Wolves and taking those SCW Mixed Tag Team Titles.”
As he finished speaking, Miles felt a calm wash over him, the storm of emotions settling into a quiet, steely resolve. He knew what needed to be done, and he was ready to do it. The Wolves of Winter were in for a fight like they had never seen before, and this time, it was going to be on Miles and Ally’s terms.
This was their moment, and Miles Kasey wasn’t going to let it slip away.
---
The final bell had rung, signaling the end of another grueling training session. Miles and Alexandra “Ally” Callaway walked out of the gym, their bodies aching but spirits high. The late evening air was cool against their sweat-dampened skin as they made their way to a nearby bar, a small, dimly lit place with wooden beams and a long, polished counter. It was the kind of place where they could unwind without prying eyes or distractions.
They found a secluded booth near the back, and as they slid into the worn leather seats, Ally ordered them both a round of drinks. The glasses clinked as they settled into a comfortable silence, the hum of conversations and soft music creating a cozy backdrop.
“You know,” Miles began after taking a sip of his whiskey, “we’ve been going at this hard for weeks now. I can feel it—everything’s coming together. We’re ready.”
Ally nodded, swirling her drink thoughtfully. “Agreed. We’ve pushed ourselves to the limit, and it’s going to pay off. Finn and Kayla... they won’t know what hit them.”
Miles grinned, the fire in his eyes unmistakable. “I’ve been thinking... we need a name. Something that reflects who we are, what we bring to the table.”
Ally raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You got something in mind?”
Miles leaned back, his grin widening. “Two Cheeky Brats.”
Ally stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained. “You know what? That’s perfect. It’s got that cocky edge, but it’s fun. It’s us.”
“Exactly,” Miles agreed, clinking his glass against hers. “We’re not just another team. We’re here to shake things up, to turn this whole division on its head. And we’re going to do it with style, with attitude... and maybe a bit of cheek.”
Ally smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Two Cheeky Brats, huh? Well, let’s show them what that really means.”
They shared a toast, the glasses catching the light as they raised them high. This wasn’t just the end of a training session; it was the beginning of something new, something that could define their careers. And as they drank, they could already feel the anticipation building, the weight of the challenge ahead only fueling their determination.
