[SCW Staff]

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

[HBCarter]

Las Vegas -
Turnberry Towers

The dining room in Turnberry Towers had been transformed into a battlefield Kevin Chapman had built with a lot of care for a night of fun. It was a full Dungeons & Dragons setup, brand new from his Christmas morning haul. A felt-lined dice tray. A grid map with little dungeon walls and a miniature figure for each player. There were note cards stacked in careful piles, pencils sharpened to lethal points, and a separate notebook opened beside everyone. All he needed now was a group to practice with, and that’s where our story comes into play.

Kevin sat at the head of the table, a Dungeon Master screen with the art of a dragon separating him from the rest of the players. It was Kevin’s first try at running a campaign and he didn’t want anyone to see when or if he got nervous. Except everyone at this table already knew him well enough to recognize nerves in the way he paused or how he cleared his throat.

Carter sat to Kevin’s right, and played as a Drow assassin named Paeris. “One name.” As Carter phrased it. “Like Cher.” Carter was a long-time player but admitted that it had been awhile and was thrilled to be invited to play again. Across from Carter sat Miles, the epitome of casual indulgence, having never played before but was open to a fun night with family and friends. Miles was playing as Aelarion Vael, a High-Elf Wizard.

Next to Miles was LJ, seated comfortably like a man who’d come ready to have fun and whose character sheet had a doodle of a screaming axe. He was playing as Marmalade Ironbelly, a Dwarf Barbarian with a comedic attitude. Beside LJ, his girlfriend Alexandra Calaway sat. She’d taken her time choosing spells and features, and it paid off with her character, Seraphine Nyx, a Tiefling Warlock.

Beside Alexandra was her daughter Ashlynn, perched on her chair like she was ready to launch into action at any second. She was playing as Pip Underbough, a Halfling Ranger.

And then there was Connor Wayley, sitting close enough to Kevin that their shoulders almost touched when they leaned forward. Something everyone else at the table noticed though nobody brought the attention to either boy. Connor’s character sheet was neat, but the corners were already bent from being handled too often, like he’d been rereading it in anticipation. Connor was playing as Jace Merrin, a Human Rogue.

Kevin glanced down at his notes, then lifted his eyes above the screen, voice tightening into that storyteller’s cadence he’d found halfway through the night.

“You come to a door.” Kevin said. “It’s stone. There’s a face carved into it but the eyes are wrong. And the mouth looks like it’s almost smiling.”

Carter leaned in. “I don’t like it.”

Kevin’s eyes shifted to Carter, then back to his notes, gaining confidence from the fact that Carter was invested enough to dislike a pretend door. “There’s writing on the bottom. Old script. Aelarion, you can read it.”

Miles straightened, slipping into character. “I read it.”

Kevin took another breath. “It says ‘Confess, and be made clean.’”

Alexandra tapped her pencil thoughtfully. “That’s either a trap or a moral test.”

Kevin nodded, grateful they were taking the bait. “There’s also a small bowl carved into the stone beneath the writing. Like it’s meant to hold something.”

Alexandra leaned in, voice smooth. “Seraphine steps forward and says, ‘I confess I have stolen secrets from people who trusted me.’”

The table went quiet, because Alexandra had executed what was expected perfectly. Kevin looked down at his notes and nodded.

“The bowl fills with dark liquid.” Kevin said. “Like ink.”

Ashlynn made a face. “Gross.”

Connor murmured, “Cool.”

Miles’s wizard asked, “Do we have to drink it?”

Kevin lifted his hands, both palms up behind the screen. “I don’t know. Do you?”

Carter groaned and looked at Miles. “Kevin is trying to kill us.”

Kevin’s mouth twitched into a smile. “That’s literally the Dungeon Master’s job.”

Connor leaned back with a grin and added, “We’re trying to start a D&D club at school. This is good practice.”

Miles mused, “So we’re your guinea pigs.”

Kevin said, “I prefer educational sacrifices.”

The game rolled forward and after they’d survived the confession door, Kevin glanced at the time on his phone. “Snack break?” He suggested it to everyone and was met with approval.

Carter stood first, taking charge as host, “I’ll grab us something.”

He headed to the kitchen and moved with ease, pulling out bowls, shaking pretzels into one, Kevin’s favorite jalapeno Doritos into another, all the while throwing a bag of cheesy popcorn into the microwave. When he came back into the dining room, Miles picked up his phone, declaring, “I’m ordering pizza!”

Everyone happily approved of this plan, especially the three teenagers, because what teen doesn’t appreciate a pizza dinner? Miles looked to Connor and asked, “Your folks okay with you eating here?” To which Connor nodded, “They just said I had to be home by ten.” Earning a nod of approval from Miles.

Kevin watched Carter as he carefully arranged the bowls around the table so as not to disturb Kevin’s set up. Kevin asked shyly, “Can we get a Dr. Pepper? Me, Connor, and Ashlynn?”

Connor nodded immediately, “Please!” Ashlynn the same.

Carter gave a nod and went back into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and leaned in. Bottled water. Juice. Leftovers stacked neatly. And tucked behind a container like it was hiding? One can of Dr. Pepper. “Bad news!” He announced, “We’ve got exactly one can left! Good news? We can take a break and I’ll run down to the store.”

Miles’s head turned immediately, protective instincts snapping into place. “I should go with you.”

Carter grabbed his keys out from the seashell dish. “It’s just down the block.” He declared. “I’ll be right back.”

Miles’s expression tightened, concerned. “Still...”

Carter kept his voice gentle but firm. “Miles, you just ordered pizza. One of us has to be here to pay for it. Unless you want to shake Connor for it?” Connor looked up from his conference with Kevin and Ashlynn with wide eyes.

He declared, “I’ll be right back!” And headed out, the door clicking shut behind him.

THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE HAS BEEN PAID FOR BY THE PRIDE OF SCW

“Inception VIII, the first big night of 2026! New year, new noise, same old truth. That I have to continue silencing critics and proving myself to all the people who think I don’t deserve to be the World Heavyweight Champion. And you know something? That’s fine. That’s alright. I’m fine with that because the more I prove myself, the more I humble every person who tries and tells me I have no business being at the top of the mountain.”

“And I think about men like Finn Whelan when I say that. I think about what it meant when Finn held this title for over a year and made it feel heavy in the best way. There are champions who wear gold like jewelry, and there are champions who wear it like a responsibility. Finn was the second kind. When I won this championship, Finn looked me dead in the eye and told me, plain as day, ‘Don’t drop the ball.’ Not congratulations or good luck. He didn’t tell me to enjoy the moment. He said don’t drop the ball. Because that’s what this is. It’s a ball you can fumble, and the second you do, there’s this pack of hungry hands reaching in and tearing it away. I took that to heart because after J2H, Finn set the standard. I’ve replayed it in my head on the days where my body felt like it got hit by a truck, on the nights where I could’ve coasted by, on the moments where it would’ve been easy to be like Alexander Raven and take a shortcut and call it smart. I didn’t get to be Helluva Bottom Carter by being the guy who takes the easy route. I got here by doubling down when everybody else started backing toward the door.”

“So going into Inception VIII, I’m not asking for applause or begging to be accepted. I’m telling you what I already know. I have lived up to that standard. I have carried this title like it matters. Every week I have shown up as the champion this company deserves and can put at the front of the line and not worry about being embarrassed. I have done champions like Finn Whelan proud, because I didn’t take the crown and start acting like a king. I took the crown and started working like a man who knows the whole place is watching!”

“And then there are ‘men’ like Alexander Raven.”

“Alexander, I want you to listen closely, because I know you’re the type who hears what he wants and then calls everything else propaganda. You’re the type who thinks a fact is just a rumor that hasn’t been bullied enough yet. You’re the type who loses a match and starts looking around for hidden cameras, secret agreements, the deep state, the shallow state, and whatever other state makes you feel better about the fact that you came up short. Only for you, it’s the state of denial. You come up short in a match and immediately it’s ‘the Rings of Saturn got in my eyes!’ or ‘the Earth’s axis was tilted unfairly!’ You have built a whole identity out of excuses dressed up like revelations. You don’t just miss the goalposts, you swear somebody else moved them, then you write a manifesto about it!”

“But here’s the part you can’t conspiracy-theory your way out of. You’re stepping into Inception VIII against a champion who doesn’t need smoke and mirrors to make any sort of impression. You’re stepping into the first event of the new year against a man who has made a career out of being both fabulous and undeniable. And you are coming into it with a fresh reminder, stamped right on your forehead, that when you don’t get to stack the deck. You just fold.”

“Let’s talk about that tag match two weeks ago, hm? Let’s talk about you teaming up with Brayden Williams, and me teaming up with Eddie Lyons. Because I know you’ve been chewing on that one. I know you’ve been trying to rewrite the story. I know you’ve been telling anybody who’ll listen that the whole thing was some cosmic alignment of unfairness designed specifically to embarrass you. That’s what you do, right? If you look bad, it’s because someone made you look bad. If you lose, it’s because the universe is against you. If you get outworked, it’s because the other guy had some unfair advantage. Well allow me to clear the fog from your mind, Alexander. You didn’t get betrayed. You didn’t get robbed. You got beaten clean enough that you could’ve eaten off the mat afterward.”

“And it wasn’t just the fact that you lost. It’s how you lost that matters. Because Eddie Lyons stood across from you and didn’t even blink! Eddie didn’t get rattled by the fact that you cheated your way to victory the previous week. Eddie looked at you like a professional looks at a problem, and then he solved it. Meanwhile you were out there trying to play chess with the pieces glued to the board and you still managed to lose your Queen, pun intended! Which brings me to my next point…”

“Do you see now what happens when your wife isn’t there to bail you out of trouble? Do you see what happens when you don’t have somebody at ringside ready to jump in and play damage control the second reality starts to set in? Because I saw it! Everybody saw it! Eddie warned you! I warned you! You were reaching for that safety net and it wasn’t there, and suddenly Alexander Raven didn’t look like some diabolical mastermind. He looked like what he really is. A man who’s been propped up by interference, shortcuts, and a whole lot of noise!”

“And I know you’re sitting there thinking that you can call my bluff. I mean, you tell the world that you have no control over what your wife does in regards to interfering in your matches when that's really just more excuses. So let me save you the trouble of digging yourself into an even deeper hole.”

“I don’t believe you have the stones to leave your bitch in her kennel!”

“There it is in plain language. Not lip service. Nothing sugarcoated. You don’t have it in you to walk into the Main Event of Inception VIII and tell your little security blanket to stay backstage. You’re addicted to the idea that if you can just muddy the water enough, nobody will be able to see you drowning. That is literally all there is to you. You don’t wrestle matches, you manufacture confusion. You don’t win, you just survive long enough for somebody else to do the dirty work. There is nothing - NOTHING - about you that isn't skin deep!”

“So here’s the problem, Alexander. I’m not stupid. I know you think otherwise but that's your room delusions screwing around with your head. I’m not the kind of champion who wanders into a title defense like it’s a friendly sparring session and not  expect things to go South. I’m the kind of champion who plans for every version of you there is. Dirty, desperate, delusional, all of it! You want to bring Lassie, er, Luna to ringside? I’ve got a leash ready. You want to bring Luna to try and cheat your way to the World Title? I’ve got my own insurance policy on the likely chance you don’t have the guts to do this like a man!”

“And before you or Luna start clutching pearls about my having a backup plan, let’s clarify there’s a difference between having a plan and needing one. You need one. I prepare one. That’s the difference between a champion and a snake. I don’t rely on my plan to win. The plan is just there to make sure your nonsense doesn’t rewrite the outcome. The plan is there so I don’t get caught in some Raven-produced episode where the ending doesn’t make sense but the villain still walks away smiling. I’m not letting you turn the World Heavyweight Championship into a prop for your paranoia.”

“Because that’s what you do, Alexander. You take the simplest thing in the world, two men competing athletically to see who is better and you complicate it until it resembles a Stephen King novel! Every time you get called out for your tactics, you don’t deny them. You justify them. You dress them up like you’re some noble rebel fighting a corrupt system. You act like you’re exposing SCW from the inside out, when really you’re just a guy who wants an excuse to do whatever he wants without the benefit of consequences.”

“You hit someone below the belt? ‘They made me do it!’ You grab the tights? ‘That’s strategy!’ You bring your wife into it? ‘I can’t control what she does!’ These are all the excuses that you’ve used in the past and you don’t even hear yourself doing it! You call it ‘truth’ when it’s convenient and ‘lies’ when it’s not. Meanwhile, I’m standing here with the one thing you can’t manufacture. Credibility.”

“Credibility is built over time, over defenses, over the way you handle pressure, over the way you show up when you’re tired, when you’re hurting, when your back is against the wall! Credibility is walking into a new year with the biggest target in the company on your chest and still sleeping just fine because you know you’ve done the work! That’s me. That’s what this title has turned me into. You think being champion is about being the center of attention. It’s not. Being a champion is about being the center of accountability. Every hungry contender wants a shot. Every bitter veteran wants to prove you’re a fluke. Every rising star wants to use you as a stepping stone. And you either stand up to that pressure or you break.”

“I’ve been standing tall since May 2025. You, Alexander? You don’t break, you shatter. And then you hold up the pieces and insist it was sabotage.”

“So let’s talk about Inception VIII like grown-ups. Let’s talk about what’s really happening. You’re not getting this title match because you’re the most deserving. You’re getting it because you’re loud. You’re getting it because you’re a problem people want solved. You’re getting it because SCW knows that if they put you in a world title match, you’ll show up, you’ll run your mouth, you’ll try your tricks, you’ll stir the pot, and people will tune in to see if you finally get your teeth knocked in. Congratulations, Alex! You’ve finally made yourself useful!”

“You are not the future of this company. You’re not going to be the guy who carries SCW into 2026. You’re nothing more than a speed bump. You’re a chapter the real story has to get through before it gets to the part people actually want to read. And I know that stings, because you see yourself differently. You see yourself as the main character. You see yourself as the misunderstood genius. You see yourself as the only one brave enough to tell the so-called truth. But the truth is simpler than any of your theories; Alexander Raven is nothing more than a placeholder for legitimate contenders.”

“Legitimate contenders like Eddie Lyons.”

“Let’s say his name again, because I can tell it bothers you. Eddie Lyons. A man who doesn’t need his ego to be his tag partner. A man who doesn’t need outside interference to feel important. A man who doesn’t need to turn every loss into a conspiracy board with black Xs across a dozen blurry screenshots. Eddie Lyons is the kind of contender who fights forward, who takes his lumps, who learns and comes back sharper. Eddie Lyons is the kind of contender who can look a champion in the eye and make you believe he’s ready. And after Inception VIII, after you do what you always do and you find a way to choke when it matters most, I want Eddie next in line.”

“Because I’m not here to dodge the best. I’m here to beat the best. That’s what a real champion does. A real champion doesn’t hide behind politics. A real champion doesn’t pick opponents he can out-cheat. A real champion looks at the division and tells the match makers to line them up! That’s me. I want the men who can actually take this title from me, because if they can’t, then all we’re doing is wasting everybody’s time. And Alexander, you are the definition of wasted time.”

“You’re going to come into Inception VIII with the same bag of tricks and the same need to control the story. You’re going to try to bait me into making a mistake. You’re going to try to get under my skin. You’re going to try to turn this into the sort of chaos that you can thrive in. You’re going to start whispering about referees and management and favoritism, because if you can plant enough doubt, you think you can make my confidence look like arrogance and your paranoia look like insight. But I’m not playing your game. I’m stepping into a world title match where the only thing that matters is which one of us can go the distance. And that’s where you’ve always come up short. Because when the shortcuts get cut off, when the noise gets quiet, you don’t have what it takes to finish the job.”

“And deep down, you know it.”

“That’s why you cling to the dirty tactics. That’s why you try to justify everything. You are so terrified of a clean fight because a clean fight forces you to stand on your own two feet, and Alexander Raven has never trusted his own two feet to carry him anywhere worth going.”

“Meanwhile, I’m built for this. I was built for the nights where everything is on the line! I was built for the nights where one mistake could cost me everything! I was built for the nights where the challenger is desperate and the champion is expected to deliver!So here’s how this is going to go, Alex. You can bring your wife. You can bring your excuses. You can bring your theories. You can bring every dirty little trick you’ve ever used to steal a win! And I’m going to do what I always do.”

“I’m going to out-think you when you try to get clever. I’m going to out-fight you when you try to get violent. I’m going to out-last you when you try to drag this into deep water. And when you reach for that escape hatch, when you look for the bailout, when you look for the shortcut, when you look for the moment you can twist into an excuse, I’m going to slam it shut in your face! Because I’m not just defending a championship at Inception VIII. I’m defending the idea that this title means something. I’m defending the idea that the man holding it is the best man in the company, not the luckiest, not the sneakiest, not the loudest. I’m defending the standard men like Finn Whelan handed me when he told me not to drop the ball. And I haven’t dropped it yet. You, Alexander, are not the man to make me fumble.”

“And when you choke, like you always do, I’m going to walk out with the World Heavyweight Championship still around my waist. Both earned and respected. Then I’m going to look down the line at the legitimate contenders, men like Eddie Lyons, and I’m going to keep doing what champions are supposed to do; defend this title against men who have stepped up and earned it the hard way, not tossed the wrestling equivalent to a pity fuck!”


The moment Carter set foot into the parking garage, he immediately wished he had relented and allowed someone to come along. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, telling himself that he was being ridiculous. He was going to a store that was, by his own words, “just down the block,” because the kids wanted Dr. Pepper. He should have been thinking about what kind of pizza Miles ordered, whether Connor would like pineapple on his pizza, whether Miles would steal looks at his drow character sheet.

Instead, Carter’s mind kept dropping into darker grooves it had no business visiting.

A shirt in their closet that didn’t belong to anyone who lived there. A bottle of wine left in Miles’s shopping cart. The phone call that still made Carter’s stomach clench when he remembered the voice asking if they’d “checked their cat”.

Every incident wasn’t just a moment. It was a message that said, “I’m close. I’m here.”

So yes, he was feeling paranoid as he walked quickly to where his car was parked, stealing glances at every shadow and dark corner. His lime green Beetle sat where it always sat, a bright absurd dot of color in a world of gray concrete. It looked cheerful. It looked harmless.

It looked like a target.

He reached the driver’s side, slid his key into the door, and unlocked it with a click before opening the door and climbing inside - perhaps quicker than he would admit to.

He shut the door quickly and slid his key into the ignition and froze. That was when he saw it.

The little Stitch figurine on the dashboard. Miles had teased him about it at first, calling it “Carter’s emotional support alien”. The world knew Carter’s love for all things Stitch and this was just another testament. Except for one thing.

Stitch was knocked over.

Carter stared at it for a beat too long. His fingers tightened around the key until the metal bit into his skin. He hadn’t driven since the last time he’d been in the condo. Stitch had been upright then.

Before Carter could fully process it, a figure rose up from the backseat like a nightmare unfolding and something clamped over his face! A rag, rough and soaked with a slightly fruits albeit minty odor! Chloroform! The smell hit like a punch, sharp and wrong, and Carter’s body reacted instantly! He tried to inhale and his throat spasmed! He tried to shout and the sound came out muffled, crushed into fabric!

His eyes flared wide! His hands flew up, grabbing at the attacker’s wrist, at the rag, at anything! His nails scraped skin! Carter bucked in the seat, twisting his torso, slamming his shoulder back to try to knock the attacker off balance! His muffled screaming filled the small car and went nowhere! His lungs burned! The chemical smell crowded his head, turning the edges of his vision strange and swimming! The attacker leaned in harder, bracing his knee against the back seat behind Carter’s body, trying to keep him from thrashing too much, trying to keep the rag sealed tight!

Carter’s glasses flew off in his wild struggle! His legs kicked and his back arched, heels striking the underside of the dashboard! His hands scrabbled blindly across the center console, searching for the door handle, the window buttons, anything that could make noise, anything that could bring the outside world crashing in!

His fingers found the steering wheel! He didn’t even realize what he’d hit until it happened…

The horn blared!

Not a simple beep. It erupted like a scream that felt too big for the small green car thanks to the acoustics of the cement walls of the garage! It filled the space! It announced Carter’s presence like a flare shot into the night!

Then panic ripped through the attacker’s body! The grip on the rag tightened reflexively, but the plan had just cracked open! Noise was the enemy. Noise meant the attention of security, residents, anyone within earshot! The figure scrambled backward, fumbling for the door handle in the backseat, movements jerky and frantic.

The horn continued to blare, a relentless alarm! Carter’s hand was still pressed into it, either by accident or instinct, his body clinging to the one thing that had shifted the odds in his favor!

The back door flew open and the attacker spilled out, half-falling, then caught themselves and bolted into the garage shadows! Carter saw only a blur of dark clothing, the quick retreat of a form in his foggy mind.

He gasped for oxygen but the smell was still on him, in his nose, in his mouth, coating his tongue with bitterness. His heart hammered so hard it hurt. His head swam, his senses reeling like a boat in a storm at sea!

He reached for the driver’s side door handle. His fingers were clumsy, disobedient. He grabbed the handle, missed, grabbed again. His vision blurred at the edges. The garage lights smeared into bright streaks. Somewhere in the distance he heard running footsteps and voices growing louder.

Carter fumbled the handle and finally pulled, the door finally falling open and Carter tumbled helplessly out and to the concrete floor of the garage, one knee scraping hard, palms slapping the ground! The world tilted again, harsher this time as he fell over onto his back. TPeople were coming, shadows turning into bodies, bodies turning into faces.

“Oh my God!” A woman’s voice cut through. “That’s Carter McKinney!”

Carter tried to lift his head while his vision fought against him. He could make out a phone held up as someone called for help. His chest heaved. His mouth tasted like chemicals and fear.

“Carter!” Someone, a woman’s voice, called to him. “Carter, what happened!? Are you alright!?”

But he couldn’t answer. He felt like he was slowly being pulled under, his eyelids fighting him to remain open, the back of his throat burning!

Another voice, deeper, urgent, shouted over the growing crowd. “Someone get Miles Kasey in 5C! Now!”

The panic set in even deeper as his eyes started to drift closed, despite his best efforts to keep them open, and he felt like he was losing himself to unconsciousness…

[Alexander Raven]

There was a peace in being back in what he felt was truly home for the holidays. Being back in Australia, being back with people he hadn’t seen in so long. He didn’t really consider most of them friends. Adrienne was a friend, but the rest. They were just faces; faces of people he hadn’t seen in so long. Old regulars of the bar. People he’d befriended in moments of delirium in a bathroom haze. The sounds of snorting and the grunt of poor-quality drugs sliding up orifices they shouldn’t. A lot of trust put in people he wouldn’t have trusted to pay their tab most of the time.

There was a peace in it. In being surrounded by people who pretended that they were closer than they actually were. Closer than any of them would ever actually be. At least to him. The true peace of it all though, was in watching her. Watching Luna in her element. Flitting about, moving between groups. Smiles, laughter and happy. A true happy in being the hostess and socialite that she wanted to be. Part of him felt bad for keeping her ‘trapped’ all the way over in America with him. Trapped with the grouch with a heart that only thawed for her.

There was peace, but there was also doubt. Fear and sorrow. There was a concern all the way through. A fear that he was ruining her, by simply being who he was. No amount of reassuring could fix that either. Not when he could see the joy radiate off her in these moments of happiness. Not when he could see how much she missed being in the world. Being with these people that were just acquaintances to him ,but to her.

To her they were the world she was giving up.

Peace and fear. Peace and doubt. Peace and concern. A concern he needed to talk to her about. The hard conversations between husband and wife. The scary talks, the talks that put doubt on the truth of their situation. That was it all just because of the closeness of it all. That without James, was he just a burden on her? When the bar was pumping, she was still able to live this life. To see James, to have that connection to people. Without him, without the bar, without Adrienne’s regular presence.

Was he destroying everything about her he loved?

It was something he had to think on. Something he had to dwell on, because he did not know. He didn’t know the answer to the questions he was asking, and that scared him. That scared him to not know. It was all a deep-seeded fear, and he didn’t quite know how to deal with that. He didn’t quite understand it all. It was a conversation they were going to need to have. A conversation he dreaded, because if she left. He would have nothing. He would be alone. Trapped with himself, trapped with his mind. Trapped with being The Lost.

He couldn’t think of anything that scared him more.

He smiled the smiles he needed to. He smiled and played nicely. Laughed, and shook hands. Drank beers and told stories. Talked about some ‘inside baseball’ with the few guys who had taken it upon themselves to destroy their bodies in the same way he was. Every part of him screaming at him to tell them to save themselves. To not put themselves through the pain and suffering. That the first time they actually taste their blood they will be rattled. That the first time they feel a bone cracking from the force of another’s hold or fist. They’d have wished they’d never laced up a pair of boots.

But that’s not what they wanted to hear. No, they had dreams of grandeur. Of hearing the roar of the crowd. Of hearing the success and admiration. To be the centre of all the focus, the modern-day gladiators. In worldwide coliseums of blood sport. With people baying for the blood of the competitors, demanding their favourites win. Wishing death upon people like himself. Wishing death upon those that did not play the sport the way they demanded of him. When it all came down to it.

He realised just how stupid these people really were. Yet they brought her happiness. They brought a smile to her face. They let her drink and eat and smile. To feel alive in the moment. A feeling he knew she never felt in that ring, no matter how good she was at it. It wasn’t her dream; it wasn’t her goal. She just wanted to do anything to be closer to the two of them. To be seen the same way as James and Alex were. To be closer to her brother.

“Did you used to sit there and think like this when it was her and I dancing through the crowd. Shaking hands and befriending everyone? You always were the fucking weird kid standing in the corner Alex. I did you a favour by toughening you up. You should have been fucking thanking me for taking her from you.” Whispers of Leon’s voice creeped up through the back of his mind. Trying to pull him from his own thoughts.

To bait him into being in his own head again. To start arguing with ghosts, and ruin today for her. To ruin this trip. The problem was that his own mind just knew how to torture him in just the right way. To say the things that would upset him the most. The things that would make him most likely to snap and scare people. To scare people who didn’t know he was as broken as he was. Hearing ghosts, seeing ghosts. Fighting a battle with a consciousness that existed only in his mind. The Lost was a sneaky little bitch.

He took a deep breath and excused himself from a conversation. Stepping through this decent little home of Adrienne’s newest boyfriend. She’d actually been with him for a while. A simple guy, but she seemed to really like him. Maybe she was finally settling. She was finally growing up. Hopefully she didn’t break him like she had a habit of doing.

He crossed and stepped out into the backyard. Everyone else was still inside, eating and drinking and pretending that they were some level of human. That they weren’t having some internal debate about their own existence in others’ lives at any point in time. He pressed a cigarette to his lips and lit it. Taking a long and deep drag on it. Letting the sensation flood through him. Momentary peace. Momentary aloneness.

“You okay, lover?” Luna’s voice came through as she closed the door behind her. Any other time he’d be happy to be interrupted from himself by her. He’d be happy to have her presence. Right now, he was afraid. No amount of peace could truly overthrow the doubts. The fears. The fact that he had Leon’s mocking laughter ringing around his skull. That was something he couldn’t talk to her about. They’d fought in the past over his seeing of ghosts. Her not understanding his delusions. Then because James and her had hid the truth of Leon’s death from him. Hid the fact that he was dead.

“Just needed a moment. You look like you’re having fun.” Alex said softly, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he slipped an arm around her waist. Her own arms coming around his, lacing her fingers on his hip opposite her.

“I’m exhausted actually. I was hoping we could leave soon. It’s been fun, but fuck. They’re all so fake. I’m glad we did this, but…” Luna spoke softly, leaning into him, letting her words trail off. Letting her mind trail off. He looked at her, wondering what was going on in her head. Wondering what she was thinking. Wondering if she was just placating him because she knew him so well. Or if she truly was as good as wearing a mask as he was now.

“We can go soon, if that is what you want. I don’t want to be the cause of you leaving things that bring you joy. I don’t want you to worry about me if it is going to bring you down.” Alex said softly, taking another long drag on his cigarette. The pregnant silence was a little unnerving. Her grip on him didn’t loosen, didn’t tighten. Just remained in the moment.

“I remember why I hated these people. Why when James came to see you, I had to run halfway around the world. I remembered why I hated everything that I had become. That I was made to become. I remember why I used to hurt myself, Lexi. I remember all of it being here. As much as the moment is nice and fun. To see Adrienne playing at being an adult. To see people I used to look forward to seeing. I don’t love it here. I don’t love it like I once did. Once every now and then, is more than enough for me.” Luna’s voice was soft, but there was a confidence in it too. An almost sternness as she spoke. A sternness that spoke into his soul. That aimed to push all the negative from his mind.

They would still have to have the full conversation, but for now. For now they could just be at peace. Peace without doubt.

“I’d like to visit someone, on the way home. You don’t have to come if you don’t want, but. I haven’t been to see her in a very long time. I owe her that much.” Alex said softly, and turned a little, to look into Luna’s eyes.

She just smiled, understanding and nodded.

“I want to see her too. To tell her I’m sorry for who I was. For hurting you. I want to ask her to understand, and to forgive. To see how hard I’m working to try and make you happy.” Luna said softly in response, leaning into him some more.

He smiled a little and wondered. Wondered if Lauren and Luna would have been friends if she had met the woman she is now. Part of him wondered how different things would be in his life if he had never lost her. Not in a regretful way, but in a what if kind of way. Wrestling probably never would have made it back into his life. Reality is that Luna likely never really would have either. It was a strange way to think about life. A strange what if to consider.


“It finally comes down to this. To a final moment. One more match, to start the year. A chance for things to change. A chance for things to be different. For Sin City to have a new fear to have. A new change in the wings and a journey that they would never really quite understand. I’m not afraid of what is to come. I’m not afraid of what is before me. I’m not worried because I am happy. I am content. I am at peace with it all.”

“See, I have done nothing but bust my ass to get to where I am. Two years I worked my ass off to get back into the World Championship picture. I left to try and recover, to try and get my body back to where it needs to be. Thirty-Six years of age, isn’t that old, but with the horrors my body has gone through over the last eighteen years of my career? The fact I’m still standing is more than most could ask for.”

“But that’s not enough for me. No, I got my body working just well enough again. I got… well, my mind has never quite worked correctly. That I can’t blame on the crushing of a chair or a pipe. I can’t blame it on the copious amounts of spilt blood, or the broken bones. No, my mind has been a fractured beast most of my life. This isn’t about pity, or garnering forgiveness for my actions. Far from it, I am who I am, and I have no desire to change that. I am bitter, I am passionate. I am angry and I am focused.”

“The sand in the hourglass slowly trickles down, and with each drop, I know my time slowly comes to and end. Maybe not so slowly anymore. Not with how I treat myself. Not with what I do, what I will do, and what will be needed to be done. For beyond it all, for all the doubts and faults. For all the sickliness that I bring to people, there is a universal truth. There is a constant. A constant from Carter, a constant from Eddie, a constant from them all. If I am present, they will do everything they can to try and rattle my confidence. To try and tear down what I do. To try and rewrite their own compass as long as it benefits their own psyche, their own image. It is sickening.”

“Consistency is all I have ever offered. Consistency and transparency. No pretence of a greater ethics. No pretence of being anything more than human. I am someone who will take what I need to take to get to where I need to be. Success has been built on the backs of psychopaths and the world hates that those lack the empathy and care for others get to where they needed to be. Sociopaths and narcissists lead the world, and they are lauded for their successes. Until their lack of empathy finally shows the psychosis of what exists beneath the surface. All I have done is point that out. Point out their sycophantic nature and watch them come apart at the seams.”

“Which is what is happening to you, Carter Casey-Mckinney. Success corrupts and drags down those around you. Success paints a target on your back and puts those around you in danger. You have to be strong enough to fight back those dangers. To be the one to continue to stand or realise. Realise the poison that is seeping into your blood. Seeping into everything around you. Seeping into the world around you. Let me pose you a hypothetical here, Carter.”

“Say you beat me, say you win. I go back to the bottom of the pile, wash your hands of Alexander Raven. That’s how it is done around here, is it not? People are thrown back to the bottom and told they must claw their back up. So I go back down, I get thrown to Miles Kasey or Alex Jones. Your immeasurable faith in your own husband would suggest that you expect him to walk out of Inception still the Internet Champion. Alexander Raven goes back to the bottom of the pile, and in doing so, I set my eyes on hurting you in a different way. I set my eyes on Miles Kasey.”

“Hypothetical, all of it. Hypothetical because I do not share your immeasurable faith in Miles. What I do have a guarantee here, however, is this. Win or lose, Miles is next. I promised to hurt and take everything you love. I win, I take the World Championship, and I demand that Miles be first up on the plate. As the dictator of direction, I will ensure that Miles is hurt next. If I don’t? Then I’ll be at the bottom, and I’ll make it my fucking mission to hurt Miles.”

“Do you know why, in this hypothetical, that is the direction for me, Carter? Let me tell you, let me explain it so you can understand. You can stand by the idea of what you call your morals. What you deem as the right thing to do. To let people fight their own battles, even if it means that they will inevitably suffer. You can stand by as I torture Miles, as I whip him from pillar to post and punish him. As I martyr him for your narcissism, and you have to a make choice. Do you stand by these false ideals you force upon everyone else? Do you stand and let him fight his own fight, or do you interfere as you blame my own wife for doing? Would you make a choice to do the incorrect thing, because you want to?”

“I pose this hypothetical, because I want you to truly think about what I’m trying to do Carter. I have said I care little for the prop. I care in hurting you. In taking away what you have because I do not believe you deserve it. I want to hurt you because you have been nothing but a blind narcissist who refuses to admit it. Admittance is all I demand of you, and you refuse to do it. Did it get under your skin when Alex Jones pointed it out too? Called you out for being a blinded hypocrite? I don’t think it even registered because the words of others, they do not matter to you, Carter. You don’t care. You never have and you never will.”

“I think you will let Miles suffer, because you pretend to hide behind the idea of it being the right thing to do. To let someone do their own fighting. To let them fight their own battles and fight their own wars. You’ll let him suffer because it protects you. In your whole time as champion, why have you never offered Miles a chance at the top? See, love is one thing. Marriage is one thing. But this is a business, this is a business built upon image. Upon success upon how you are perceived and how you are seen by others. Miles cannot be happy bumming about at the ‘bottom’ with the rest of us underserving, can he? So why not offer him the opportunity that he so rightly deserves in everyone else’s eyes… except your own?”

“I pose these hypotheticals, because I simply ask that you think, Carter. I ask that you think about what is before you. I ask you to think about what you are doing to yourself and those around you, by refusing to admit your wrong. By refusing to apology for being an inconsiderate fucking dick. That is what you are Carter. An inconsiderate, narcissistic, sycophantic fucking dick. A prissy fucking cunt who is going to be shown the fallacy in his way of thinking. A fucking mongrel who will be torn down at the ankles because that is all you deserve. You deserve to have it all taken away from you because you are nothing but the scum that exists beneath our feet.”

“I made you a promise when I came back, that I would hurt. I made you a promise that I would take everything from you. I made you a promise that I would ruin you and everything you love, and if there is one thing that people know for sure about Alexander Raven? When I make a fucking promise, I will act on it, or I will die trying. I’m not getting younger Carter, and the reality is? I’ll never be healthy again. I’ll never be able to flip and fly like I once could. I’ll never be able to do half of what I can now, in a year. The difference is. I’ve lost more ability and acumen in this sport than any of you have ever had in your whole damn careers.”

“I want you to truly think about what is coming, Carter. There is no out for you anymore. There is no escape. You lose, and it all comes crumbling down. You lose and everything you’ve said, everything you’ve accused me of, every fucking part of it? You look like a liar. You look like the tantrum throwing child that you accuse me of being. We both know you’ll kick up a storm, you’ll complain. You’ll bitch and moan. Any way it goes down, the great Carter Casey-Mckinney will be a failure in the eyes of those who he has been pretending to stand for.”

“I want you to understand this, Carter. I want you to understand the depths of it all. I do not like you; I will never like you. I want nothing more than to hurt you, because you deserve to be hurt. You deserve to be the one who suffers in agony. You deserve to suffer for your indiscretions and your horseshit approach to being the leader. To being the one that you want people to emulate. Nothing but a bitter spitting mongrel who pretends that they are anything more than that. Mocking and belittling those who come to stand before you, even if you speak the world of them in the moments before.”

“The worst thing someone could do in your world is be the one who steps to you. That is the true reason you deny Miles a chance at what you hold. Because you don’t truly know how to say the right things. You don’t know how to talk, you just emulate. You emulate those you admire, because you are nothing but a mimic. A mimic of those better than you, except now its slipping. Now you are the narcissist that we are. You so desperately wish you could match the person to the action, and yet you cannot. In the depths of your soul, you know this one universal truth.”

“Carter, you wish you could be Alexander Raven.”

“Let me elaborate on that. Let me elaborate on why that is the truth. See, no matter how much anyone tries to talk me down around here, there is one thing they cannot contest. That even in their most confident, when it comes to facing Alexander Raven. You never know what you will need to do. You never know what is going to be required to keep him down. I get under people’s skin. I make them frustrated; I make them angry. I get them heated because I want them blind to the truth. Blind to the world. Blind to their own shortcomings. I am the consummate Ring fucking General of Sin City Wrestling. Eddie will tell you. Aiden will tell you. Alex Jones for better or worse, he’ll tell you. Stepping into the ring with Alexander Raven? You don’t come out trying to play me at my game, and you cannot beat me if you try and ignore it. You simply need to be fucking better than I am.”

“And you, Carter? You’re not better than me. You never have been, and you never will be. You’re just in my fucking way.”

“I’d ask if you’ve been listening, but truthfully? I don’t think you could hear me over the self-lavishing of your own thoughts. But know this. I cannot wait to hear what you have to say, Carter. I just know it’ll be fucking enlightening.”

“I’ll see at Inception. I hope you’re ready Carter. Truly I do. I hope you are ready to lose everything you fucking love.”