GO Gym-
Las Vegas, Nevada
“I’m a little surprised that you stopped by to train today.” Aron Baltasarsson admitted as he watched the reigning World Heavyweight Champion Carter McKinney step through the ropes of the six-sided ring. “I would have thought you’d be putting the finishing touches on your travel plans.”
“Yeah well…” Carter said as he gingerly slid to the floor from the ring, the grueling training session having obviously taken its toll and worn him out. “... I still have things to do but I thought I should get in one more. God knows if I’ll have the chance on the ship.”
Carter sighed, reaching blindly for the water he had placed in the corner of the ring, Aron taking notice that his mindset was not entirely where it should be.
“He’s getting to you.” Aron observed as Carter took a seat on the edge of the ring apron, drinking deeply from the water. The younger brother of Fenris was always observant to the world around him, a trait that annoyed the volatile Fenris greatly. Carter looked up and raised a brow questioningly. Aron emphasized, “James. He’s getting to you.”
“I’m not letting James get into my head.” Carter insisted, but he could feel the slightly critical stare of his Gym mate firmly set on him. Carter could remember from the very first day he set foot inside of the GO Gym, and he remembered with both fondness and trepidation just how hard the Stevens were on him. Initially, Carter firmly believed that they were doing it in an effort to get him to quit, thinking that someone like him had no place in the sport.
Nothing could have been farther from the truth.
Gabriel and Odette both had an immense amount of faith that this young man had what it took in order to make something of himself, to be able to stand out. But behind their hard training tactics was a method to the madness. Not everybody was suited for this business and their regime helped to weed out both the weak.
Carter was neither. He was too pig-headed to allow anyone to keep him from realizing his dreams, and in the end? Everything paid off. Which was why he took relatively no offense to Aron’s criticisms about his mindset going into this title defense against one of the very best that ever set foot inside of the six-sided ring of SCW.
“Look, I know that J2H is not as great at mind games as he likes to think.” Aron smiled. “Far from it. He’s just an outspoken prick and he uses that to get under people’s skin.”
“Yeah well,” Carter slid from where he was seated on the ring apron to the floor, leaning back against the ring and his eyes staring ahead vacantly at absolutely nothing. “It comes naturally to spoiled little rich bitches like him. I want nothing more than to just shut him the fuck up. Everything he’s been saying about me. Talking like I don’t belong where I am and acting as if he already deserves to win the title, like it’s already happened…”
Carter scoffed and continued, “He acted the same way with your brother when those two had their match and look what happened when he lost. It broke poor James.”
“You want to humble him, right?” Aron asked quietly, Carter noting that this tone was when the wheels were definitely turning in the recesses of his mind. Carter acknowledged this with a nod, to which Aron continued with his line of thought, “Up until that fiasco with Jayden, I can remember just one person who made James tap. The same one that James is doing everything to try and gaslight and sweep under the rug like it never happened.”
Both men turned their heads to look across the gym to where their mutual eyes fell upon the aforementioned Icelandic Superstar Fenris, who was standing at a punching bag, wearing nothing more than a pair of white shorts and boxing gloves. The former champion raised hell on the bag with lightning fast jabs coupled with the random kick that threatened to rupture the bag. Fenris had stepped away from the sport a fair few years prior but he never let his training lapse into non-existence.
Carter turned back to look at the expectant stare of Aron and he shook his head, “No. No way!”
“Why not?” Aron asked. “Can you think of anyone better than to teach you to break J2H’s body down into a fractured puzzle with no way to put it back together?”
Carter turned and simply stared at Fenris, the very thought of asking him for any form of help as alien to him as the idea of mustard on French fries. The two never got along. Not since Fenris turned down Carter’s romantic overtures years ago, thus bruising his ego to the point of no return. The two had said many things - hateful things - to each other over the years and only recently were bridges at the beginning stages of being mended.
“He’s never going to let me hear the end of this, is he?” Carter sighed as he reluctantly walked toward Fenris. Aron quipped wisely behind him, “Probably not.”
From the corner of his eye, Fenris saw Carter approach but as soon as Carter got the opening words, “Kristjan, can I-?” Out of his mouth, Fenris already answered, “Yes.”
“Yes?” Carter blinked. “Yes … what?”
“Yes.” Fenris resumed striking the bag with lefts and rights, each strike harder than the last. “I will help.”
“Just like that?” Carter asked, clearly caught off guard. Fenris did not break his stride as he continued and simply nodded. “Why?”
To which Fenris finally stopped and turned to glare at Carter, but the angry glance was not for him but the subject at hand. He answered, “Because I want to see that little shit fail just as bad as you do!”
Who knew that preparing for a cruise that doubled as both a working vacation as well as a relaxing getaway could have been so strenuous?
If it wasn't the last minute training, it was dragging Miles to the mall for an impromptu shopping spree. Miles would have been just as happy wearing the same things this year as he did in 2024, but Carter would not hear of it. So they got an all new cruise wardrobe and that just left the typical decision of what to do about Ms Thang, as the cruise did not allow for pets. Under any other circumstance, they would have left her with the Baltasarsson brothers but Kristjan and Aron would be on the cruise. That left their erstwhile neighbor Oliwia.
Oliwia was only too happy to help and Ms Thang “tolerated” her so that was the best outcome that they could have hoped for. In fact, her exact words were, “Oh yah! I'll take care of your pussy for you!”
The sun had just dipped behind the horizon, finally giving the “City of Sin” some blessed relief from the smoldering triple digit temperatures of the summer months. Carter was lounging on the sofa in the living room of the condominium in the Turnberry Towers, sipping a glass of red wine while absently watching an episode of the Sandman. Everything felt just as it should be, with the exception that Miles was not yet home. Miles had opted to spend the day with his brother.
Carter spent the next few minutes, whittling away at the time by watching a tense exchange between Morpheus and his sibling - and Carter's favorite character in the Sandman series - Desire, when his phone vibrated. Figuring Miles was texting him to tell him he was on his way home, Carter checked and frowned at the message received…
“Don't ignore me.”
Figuring it to be a wrong number, Carter quickly flicked off a rapid fire response, “Wrong number.” Before standing up and heading for the wine rack for a refill. Before he got two steps, his phone vibrated a second time.
“
DON'T FUCKING IGNORE ME!!”
This time, Carter did what he should have done in the first place. He immediately deleted the message and blocked the number behind it. He shook his head as he crossed the threshold of the condo and picked up the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, a wedding gift from Grams toward Miles and himself. He popped the cork and went to pour a refill for himself when he frowned and held up the bottle to examine it a touch more closely.
Empty.
“Terrific.” He sighed as he set the bottle back down. He could have sworn there was more - at least half the bottle as Miles and he drank it sparingly, given the special nature of the gift. He instead set the now empty wine glass in the sink and opted to lay down, perhaps a cat nap before Miles returned home. Miles always told him he didn’t need to stay up and wait for him when he was out, but that was always exactly what Carter did and Miles was grateful for it. But Carter had been up since the crack of dawn, putting the finishing touches on everything that needed done before he and Miles set sail on the Princess cruise, and to put it gently? He was whipped.
So he returned to the living room and lounged back on the sofa, Ms. Thang hopped off as if the action were an affront to her Royal Highness. The feline wandered off further into their home’s interior and Carter watched after her briefly with a touch of amusement before he turned off the lamp and laid back and got comfortable. And it was no sooner that he closed his eyes than he heard the door to the condo open up, heralding Miles’s return home. He thought Miles would have texted him first, he always did, but it was no real big deal.
“Miles?” He sighed deeply, listening as Miles’s footsteps crossed over the threshold between the front door and where he laid in the living room. The footsteps drew closer but they were too soft to the ears, too slow. Something felt wrong before opening up his eyes to the figure standing above him.
“You’re not Miles.”
The cold fingers closed around his ankle and dragged him forcibly off of the sofa where he hit the floor in a state of panic. Carter shot upright but found Miles kneeling down in front of him, both of Carter’s wrists grasped in his own hands. Carter was shaking violently and his widened eyes stared straight ahead into Miles’s own obviously concerned stare.
“Bloody hell, Carter!” Miles looked him over with concern, taking notice for the first time that Carter’s normally lightly tanned flesh was pale and covered in a cold sweat, and his body was trembling erratically. “What was that all about…” His brow furrowed deeply.
“Why are you on the floor?” Miles asked with genuine concern and it took Carter a brief moment to clear the fog of sleep and dreams from his mind, as was normal for anyone who had just suffered a nightmare of any degree. Carter’s gaze strayed past Miles to the large bag set on the floor, laden with their dinner from Marigolds, an Indian restaurant the both of them had grown fond of.
“Just a dream…” Carter mumbled, lowering his head, eyes downcast.
“Dream my arse.” Miles stood up, helping his husband to his feet. “You’re shaking. That must have been some nightmare.”
“I’m fine.” Carter insisted, his hand on his forehead as he tried to will himself to forget the feeling of a figure cloaked in shadow standing over him so easily. Of the fear of being attacked in the relative safety of his own home. Miles watched him, not believing him entirely as he reached down for their dinner and he placed a gentle hand on his husband’s back, guiding him toward the island counter that separated the kitchen from their living area.
“Let's talk facts.”
“J2H is one of the greatest Superstars to have ever set foot inside of an SCW ring. Not the greatest of all time, not any more - but still! Runner up isn’t altogether that bad. A four time World Heavyweight Champion and between those four reigns? J2H held the title for a grand total of 613 days. His first reign broke all sorts of records when he held the championship for 400 days, a record that was only recently broken by Finn Whelan and soon enough perhaps - Victoria Lyons as well. But here’s another little tidbit of information. Another fact, if you will. Two of those World title reigns? J2H vacated the championship willingly and without reason. In his own mind, he had nothing else to prove other than the fact he could still win so why bother defending it?”
“And it wasn’t just the World Championship our esteemed legend pulled that stunt with. Two separate times he won the Roulette Championship and both of those times, he threw the title away rather than defend it like a real champion should and would. Hell! The last time he held the Roulette gold, he didn’t just vacate the title. He gave it away! To Caleb Storms of all people! Not that I have anything against Caleb but try and explain that particular title reign with any semblance of pride to your loved ones. ‘Hey Mom, hey Dad! Guess what! I’m a champion! No, I didn’t earn it by beating the champion. He gave it to me! … I know, right!?’”
“The funny thing is the first time J2H abdicated the championship, I and many others could have looked past the fact. But then he opted to make it into a habit and tuck his tail between his legs and duck challengers rather than risk showing the world that he was as vulnerable as any other man walking the face of the planet! Noo! Not J2H! He has an image to maintain! Because if he doesn’t keep up the illusion that he’s absolutely unbeatable, where would he be today? He acts like championships are just props for his ego. He doesn't want the pressure. He doesn’t want the target on his back. He just wants the recognition without the responsibility. Defending a championship? That’s what a champion does! Not you though James, and that’s why you sure as hell don’t belong anywhere near a championship because you can’t be trusted enough to do what’s right by that title!”
“So why is J2H once again in the world title picture? It’s because he doesn’t know who he really is unless there’s gold in his possession. It’s like he needs the World Championship the same way a crackhead needs that next rock. Losing his mind when he doesn’t have it. He paces around backstage, not because he wants to be champion but because he doesn’t know how to function without it. Me? I defend it. I make it mean something more than just a tool for some addict to remember who he is. The fact is that J2H doesn’t love wrestling. He doesn’t love this company or the fans. He loves the attention. The cheers he didn’t earn and the respect he demands but never gives. And every time he snatches a title, he vacates it like a crash hit too fast and he’s gotta disappear until the withdrawal sets in again.”Fenris stood in front of Carter, demonstrating with sharp precision as he lowered his stance and wrapped an arm snug around Carter’s neck, guiding him into position. He pulled Carter’s head down and stepped to the side slightly, showing how to lock the arm under the chin and clamp it tight with the other arm, folding the grip and arching the hips.
“But since we’re on the subject of respect, let’s talk about that for a moment, shall we? That’s all that you really care about, isn’t it J2H? That’s your whole thing. Every time you show your face around here, it’s the same tired song. ‘Respect me, remember me, recognize my greatness!’ Deep down, it’s not about respect at all with you. What you want is worship. You don’t care about earning it, you just expect the red carpet to be rolled out because of what you did years ago. You walk around backstage like everybody’s supposed to bow down and kiss your feet just because you deigned to show up. You expect the red carpet treatment without recognizing that you are still just the same as anyone else backstage. Just less likable, and certainly less interesting.”
“Tell me, who even likes you James? I can think of maybe two people and all of them have poor qualities of their own at best. You really surround yourself with ‘yes men’ who act, walk and talk like you. Especially when things don't go their way. I mean you had Giani Di Luca and even Casey Williams at one point in time, all cozying up to you because they thought you were the next big thing and they wanted to soak up a bit of that spotlight for themselves. You had Alexander Raven but even he wised up and got away from your toxicity. So who’s left? Ah yes, Kevin Carter. The only person on either roster that makes you look reputable. Then when you get bored or think you’re not the center of the universe, you just pitter patter off when no one is deep throating you because they know you taste like regret and bad choices.”
“You act like respect is a one-way street and you’re the only one that deserves to walk it. You scoff at the new generation, look down your nose at anyone who isn’t tripping over themselves to praise your name, but heaven forbid you show an ounce of that same respect to someone else.”
“You want to be remembered, but not for the right reasons. You want legacy without the work, reverence without humility. You treat the locker room like it’s still 2016 and you’re the center of the universe, but times have changed. This company evolved. You pop in when it suits you, remind everyone how great you think you are, and then vanish again when it suits you. You can’t ask for something you refuse to give. And until you learn that? All you’re ever going to be is a bitter echo of what you once were. And by after I mean when the one point in time when you decided to actually put in effort and evolve from the joke you started as. That is something that I have to respect.”
“You went from being the guy who lost his wrestling debut and his store-purchased Universal championship to Angel the teddy bear, to a bona fide athlete. Someone, who at one point in time, was someone a younger star could look up to and aspire to be like. But now look at you. Wrestling has evolved. You have not. Same boring clothes. Same boring music. Same boring move list that you learned from that hillbilly. You probably think J2H is timeless or some other bullshit. But that look? And everything that you've got going for you over the last decade? It's over. You emulated Austin Parker’s ring style and made it your own. Maybe you think, why fix what isn’t broken? Problem with that mentality is that the more you refuse to evolve and to change, the easier it is to adapt against you.”
“You think SCW needs you. I know this concept is foreign to you James, but you couldn’t be more wrong. SCW didn’t need you the first time you pissed away, and it sure as hell doesn’t need you at the top now. The simple fact is that you need SCW, not the other way around. You need SCW, you need the championship, just to continue feeling relevant. I can remember a time when you used to return as a so-called special treat at High Stakes against some top level talent but even that novelty wore thin and you had to start picking up your own slack and come back more often. Question is, why? If you were everything that you say you are? You wouldn't need to do that. You would have been able to make a clean break. Who knows? Maybe playing house has started to grow old.”Fenris crouched beside Carter on the mat, grabbing hold of Carter’s wrist and slowly walked him through the setup for the cross arm breaker. Fenris shifted his body and swung a leg over his chest. He showed how to trap the targeted arm between his thighs, secure the wrist against his chest, and pull back with his hips.
“Who knows? Maybe you’re coming after the championship because you can’t stand the fact that your record got broken. No, not just broken. Shattered I believe is the right word. Of course, to hear you tell it Finn was only champion for as long as he was because the competition now isn’t as high level as it was in your day. But have you ever given consideration to the thought that maybe the opposite was true? You literally sniff out whoever you think is the weakest champion at the time, like some geriatric great white shark. You did it with Todd Williams. You tried to do it with Austin James Mercer and Tempest - and failed. And now here we are once again. You literally do not try for a title if it's somebody you don't think you can take. Because you don't want to challenge, you just want another notch on your already padded resume. And when you find a champion you think is vulnerable? That's when you strike. Which really explains why you never stepped up to challenge Finn to try and keep him from breaking your record because you see him as a true threat to your legacy. For all your rich boy bravado, you were smart enough to know when you're outclassed.”
“You spend so much time and effort, assuring yourself that you have to win, that you deserve to win, that you don’t know how to handle it when you lose. Half the time you cry ‘I don’t need you!’ and take one of your usual sabbaticals until everyone forgets about your loss and then you come waltzing back in. Look at what happened when you had your big match against Fenris! You were all over social media then, just like you are now, talking about how the match was a done deal. And what happened? Fenris made you tap out! You spent how much time just wandering around like a lost little zombie, whining and bitching to the world how you were supposed to win that match and crying about backstage politics. That’s really ironic considering I heard the very same whispers about that win you got over Despayre in your match in Japan!”Fenris knelt beside Carter on the mat, motioning for him to spread himself out flat on the canvas. Fenris wove his arm under Carter’s armpit and around his neck. He then locked his hands together and rolled them both sideways into a gator roll, ending with Carter on his side and Fenris tightening the hold.
“Let’s talk about the fact that you can’t get through two seconds of your life without using it to sulk in the corner. I know you’re a little rich boy who gets a lot of attention for being who you are, but acting like every place you go to is filled like a pigpen? Yeah, that stink has nothing to do with the place and everything to do with you. From all your entitlement and all your audacity and your primadonna behavior. I’m surprised you’re even wrestling anymore. Wouldn’t want you to break your ass when you fall from your extremely lofty podium you’ve placed yourself on! Look at the fit you threw when you realized you no longer had a private dressing room which was reserved for the champion! And that would be me. You bitched and you moaned and you went crying to the bosses like a kindergartner who had their favorite toy stolen on the playground! I almost - almost - was going to give the dressing room back to you, you know. Not because you deserved it but because I didn’t want to inflict you on the rest of the men's roster. I mean, they didn’t do anything to me and certainly didn’t deserve to have you around, bringing down the mood.”
"You talk every time we see you about being the best, but you're ultimately a washed-up joke trying to cling to scraps of a past that's not long behind you. You've realized what happens when you're not in the spotlight. When the world has moved on and you're still stuck in the rearview mirror, holding onto a reputation that's only as good as the first time you had it. Newsflash! The cameras aren't for you anymore, and no one is going to remember the man who disappears every time the kids get to running. Who the hell is left to give a damn if you think you're big mad, big bad? You've burned every bridge and no one in that locker room gives a damn about you and your pride! Not any more!”
"You get put into big matches because they know you won't screw things up, not because they believe in you. You're nothing more than a fallback. The guy who'll take the fall without making waves in public while screaming backstage because you're so desperate for validation that you think your matches still mean something.”Fenris sat on the mat with Carter across from him, motioning to Carter’s leg and nodding for him to extend it. Fenris took hold of Carter’s ankle and tucked it under his arm. He leaned back, placing the blade of his forearm across the tendon and securing it tightly in an Achilles lock. Fenris arched his back as Carter grimaced from the pressure.
“I have to say, you really changed your mind about me. Haven’t you? I can remember the last time you vacated the championship and you hand picked eight men for the tournament - and I was one of them. You spoke highly of me then, but now? You say that I don't deserve to be the champion as if I didn't work my way up from the bottom. You say I haven’t earned it. This coming from a man who for a time would return only once in a blue moon and coincidentally always make certain that it was against somebody who had championship gold at the time. Just so he could win the title and then throw it back in everyone's faces and leave once again. Why? Because apparently the balls that dropped in your pre-pubescent year have gone back up to where they came from.”
“But me? You think that someone like me shouldn’t be the champion. Tell me something James, what exactly do you mean by ‘someone like me’? Because that statement could be taken a lot of different ways and none of them exactly paint you in a positive light. Are you saying that as an out and proud gay man who doesn’t believe in hiding away from the world, that I’m setting a bad example for SCW? That because I hold my husband’s hand and kiss him in public, that I don’t belong in the spot that I’ve earned? Let me guess! You’re one of those morons who will love on his wife in public. Hold her hand, cuddle and kiss her - but the moment you see someone like me dressed the way I am, act the way I do, and kiss the man I love, suddenly it’s a matter of me pushing my lifestyle off on you!? Do people like you seriously not see the irony - the hypocrisy - when you say shit like that!?”
“And yes, James. Despite what you think, I did earn the place where I am today! I won the Elimination Chamber! I pinned Alex Jones and stripped him of the championship! And you are not fooling me one god damned bit! If you really thought as little of me as you want the world to believe, then you and your man bitch Kevin Carter never would have tried to interfere in my defense against Artie! You wanted me to lose that match for one reason only. You were like a predator sniffing out the weakest animal in the herd and you saw Artie as an easy mark. So you ran out there and tried everything to cost me. Only it didn’t work out as planned and guess what! You still have me! And when you faced Artie that very next week? You may have won but you didn’t have as easy a time as you might have had ten years ago.”
“Why is that, I wonder? Could it be because Artie has improved tenfold and is a lot better than you gave him credit for? Or is it because you simply aren’t at the same level as you were in `16? And to think that you still think of yourself as the apex predator of SCW. But the thing about predators is eventually one comes along that's stronger. Faster. Smarter. One that doesn’t just bite back but one that finishes the hunt. You’re not the wolf anymore. You’re not the king. You’re just someone who is trying to convince himself that he still matters. I’m the one circling now. I’m the one tracking you down. I’m the one who smells the blood in the water. And my being the champion just proves the shift already happened. You just didn’t notice it. But you will. Because the next time we’re face to face, it won’t be a hunt. It’ll be extinction.”
