[SCW Staff]

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

[Zayvion Lyons]

Your first career loss can be a tough pill to swallow, but it can also be helpful and even motivate you. Zayvion Lyons found himself still trying to swallow said pill, but Cleo Phillips was there to get his mind back on track.

“Look, if you ask me you're still a winner.” said Cleo.

Zayvion looked up at her.

“I let you down.” he said “All that training, and I didn't beat Alex Jones and gain the momentum I wanted for Blaze of Glory.”

“That's cap.“ Cleo said “You ain't let nobody down you went out there you gave it your all and you know what? Alex Jones had to cheat to beat you.”

Zayvion nodded as a faint smile creeped on his face.

“Yeah there it is.” said Cleo “You know it's the truth. You pushed Alex Jones to his limit,  to the point that he had to resort to a cheap trick just to beat you. If anything your loss is on me.”

“How's that?” said Zayvion raising an eyebrow.

“I'm your manager." said Cleo. "I'm supposed to be the one out there catching that sort of thing. I should have been right there to knock his fat foot off the ropes for you.”


"Ah, you can't blame yourself for that.” said Zayvion “The only reason I came as close as I did to beating him is because of everything you've taught me.”

“Be that as it may." said Cleo “People are watching you now, closer than ever. So you got to refocus yourself, don't worry about Alex Jones and worry about the three motherfuckers ahead of you.”

Cleo stepped closer, lowering her voice as she continued.

“Bill Barnhart, Brayden Williams, and Ciaran Doyle.” she said, raising a finger for each one “Three different problems in the same ring, but all you need is one solution.”

Zayvion leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Bills the power game…" he muttered “He's going to try to keep me grounded but I've solved him before.”

“Exactly..” Cleo replied “He's going to try to slow you down. You already know you can't out muscle Bill Barnhart, you have to out move him and make him blow his gas tank while you're already halfway up the ladder.”

Zayvion nodded the gears began to turn in his head.

“There's still Brayden Williams and Ciaran Doyle.” he said.

“Brayden Williams is the clout chaser of the century.” Cleo said, rolling her eyes. “He's going to go out there and try to create highlight reels and viral moments. So let him while he's distracted trying to create a viral moment you'll be busy actually winning the match.”

“And Ciaran?" Zayvion asked.

“He's the one you have to watch out for if you ask me.” Cleo said. “He's got that hunger about him as well, so you need to show him that you're all business as well and that this is your moment, not his, when you smack him in his pretty little mouth.”

Zayvion laughs.

“Pretty little mouth?” he grinned “You've been waiting to say that one, haven't you.”

“Don't change the subject.” Said Cleo “Ciaran's the one who's gonna give you the biggest problem. Don't let his stripper past and pretty looks fool you. He's a nice enough guy but this match isn't the time to play nice.”

Zayvion nodded as he continued to listen to Cleo's words.

"You're faster than Bill, smarter than Brayden, and hungrier than Ciaran.” said Cleo “They all bring something to the table, but none of them bring everything. So you need to control the pace, you dictate when it speeds up, you dictate when the ladders come into play. Make this match yours.”

Zayvion let the thoughts rummage around in his brain before speaking again.

“If Bill wants to slow it down….” he said “I don't engage, I make him chase.”

“Exactly.” said Cleo “You burn the big man out and you outlast him.”

“And Brayden better not worry about who's watching.” he said “He better be concerned about who's right there in front of him, one who's ready to kick his head in if that's what it takes.”

“And Ciaran?” piqued Cleo

“He's the one that's going to be the toughest to solve.” said Zayvion “Because I feel like he's just as focused on the end goal as I am. He's not coming there to show off, he's coming in there to win which means I can't coast, even for a second.  Bill and Brayden I can predict their distractions, but Ciaran I have to treat everything he does like it matters because it does.”

Cleo didn't say anything, she just let Zayvion continue his thoughts.

“You know what's real wild Cleo?” he said “If you had told me a few months ago that I was going to be in a match with this kind of opportunity on the line, all I would be thinking about is how not to mess it up. And now? Now I'm thinking about how I'm going to take it from the three of them.”

“That's called growth.” Cleo noted

“It's not really about them though.” he said after a moment “It's about me staying locked in on the opportunity. There's going to be a moment where everybody's down,  and out of position and the match is just waiting for somebody to take it. I don't want to just be the guy reacting to that moment, I want to be the reason it happens.”

“Now that sounds like a contender.” said Cleo “You're not waiting for openings, you're creating them.”

Zayvion lets the words hang in the room around them.

“That's how I win this.” he said with a nod "It's not going to be about me improvising when it goes sideways because I'm going to set the pace,  and I'm going to know what comes next, and the three of them are going to follow me.”

“Exactly.” Cleo said leaning in closer to him “You're in this to define yourself.” Every second you stay in control, you're sending a message that you're not just there, you're there to win.”

Zayvion nodded, he was beginning to picture it in his mind, the crowd, the lights and himself in the center of it all. Calm focused and in control. This was about moving forward to the next step in becoming a champion and he was ready.

__________

As he waited in the visitor room of the county jail, Zayvion thought about the memories of him and his crew when they were younger. The memories and the loyalty that you couldn't buy. The way life was just so much simpler then. Now the four of them were growing older and life was pulling them in different directions.

He waved at Three-Ball when he saw him sitting at the table as he entered the visitors room. As soon as Three-Ball saw Zayvion,  a huge smile appeared on his face.

“Yo Zay.” He said “Long time no see big dawg!”

“Three! How you been man?” said Zayvion as the two embraced.

“Ah, could be better..” said Three-Ball motioning around.

“Yeah..” said Zayvion with a nod as they took a seat, “Suspended license, DUI, what were you thinking man?”

“I wasn't.” said Three-Ball with a shrug, “But we don't got to talk about my stupid mistakes. I want to hear more about you. I hear you're a big superstar wrestler now.”

“Superstar might be pushing it.” said Zayvion.

“Well the guys say you're out there killing it.” said Three-Ball “I remember you always had that focus. Even as a kid you were always the one trying to plan everything out while the rest of us just wanted to run wild.”

“Yeah back then we were planning on how to steal sodas and snacks from the corner store.” laughed Zayvion.

“Those were the days.” said Three-ball with a laugh of his own. “You remember when we tried to start that basketball league with some of the other kids on the block? We used that old court at the park that didn't even have a net on the hoop. You did everything you could to make it feel real, schedules kept score and rankings even made his jerseys out of old t-shirts.”

“Yea..” said Zayvion with a smile “That was a mess at first. A lot of kids didn't even show up some days, and a lot of them tried to cheat. But I just made adjustments and kept trying to push until it made sense because I wanted it to work so bad.”

“That's what I'm saying man.” nodded Three-Ball “You were always the one keeping the chaos in check. While the rest of us were playing games, you were thinking. And you got that same energy about you now.”

Zayvion let the words sink in.  That summer had taught him a whole lot without him even realizing it. He learned how to manage what he could control, and how to plan when things became unpredictable. He learned how to stay calm while the rest of the world was running wild, not reacting to what happened, but controlling what he could.

“I try..” said Zayvion “I try to bring that same principle into the ring . Stay locked in, forget my next move and control the situation instead of letting it control me.”

“That's why you’ve always been different Zay.” Three-Ball said, “Always thinking two steps ahead while the rest of us we're just trying not to get caught.“

“It's not about being different." said Zayvion “It's about taking ownership. Even back then we had a broke down court, and no net. But I wanted it to work and control what I could control. In the ring it's the same thing. I control my mindset, I control the pacing and that's how I make the most of the opportunities in front of me.”

“That's some real shit.” said Three-Ball

“You know I can't be nothing but real.” said Zayvion

“Well hey next time you come visit, you better be a champion.” said Three-Ball with a grin

“I hope so.” said Zayvion.

The two friends continued to chat about memories, finding the time get away from them until one of the guards signal that it was time and called Three-Ball back to his pod. As Zayvion walked out the visitor room the memories of that old sun beaten court, the crooked hoop and the hand-drawn t-shirts he made into jerseys stayed with him. A reminder that no matter the chaos or the uncertainty he knew how to take control and shape the moment. It was that focus and mindset that had always pushed him forward in life, and now weeks before his biggest opportunity yet he had become sharper than ever before.

_________

The cameras open up on a close up shot of Savion lions wearing large headphones, he holds up an old polaroid of four young boys sitting on a park bench together as the sounds of Growing Pains by Ludacris play.

#We were trying so hard
Hard to survive
Because even though we were young
We had to stay strong
No matter what we went through
It was me and my crew
And that's how it went
When we were kids.#

As the music fades out Zayvion sets down the photo, and lowers the headphones, the camera zooms out to get a more full shot of him. He's dressed in a classic urban style, shades resting on the top of his head, posted up against a chain link fence as he begins to address the cameras. His posture is calm and  relaxed but there's an unmistakable fire in his eyes.

“Growing up you always need a crew.” he began “There's people you grow with and learn from. That's what it was like for me and my boys. Bug, Lorenzo and Three-Ball. I always thought four was the magic number for the perfect crew and the four of us still remain tight to this day.”

He pauses for a moment letting his mind reminisce.

“Now we're all grown and just trying to find a way in this crazy world.” he said. “Things I
learned growing up from my crew and just life in general, and other lessons I learned from Cleo are what I'm going to be bringing to this ladder match. Speaking of Cleo, she's  away on business at the moment. So I thought I'd take the time for y'all just to hear from me. Because at the end of the day this ain't the Cleo Phillips story, you can search the annals of PWS for that. This is the Zayvion Lyons story.”

He pauses for a moment.

“Crazy thing is, my opponents at Blaze of Glory each kind of remind me of my crew in a way.” Zayvion continued ‘"Take Brayden Williams for instance, he reminds me of my boy Lorenzo or Lo’ as we sometimes call him.”

He pauses again.

“Don't get me wrong, Lo’ is one of the realest friends you can have, sometimes too real, the type of dude who will stab a fool for messin' with one of his boys. " said Zayvion “But we all got that friend that gives you a headache, and for us it's Lorenzo. He was always our loudest friend, always trying to be the center of attention. Sound familiar Brayden? Because while you're out there looking for your moment trying to get everybody to look at Brayden Williams I'm out there focused on winning, making something of myself and trying to get myself on a road to become a champion.”

He readjusts his shades and exhales slightly as he continues.

“And Bill you got that Three-Ball energy.” said Zayvion “Always with the power plays. Strong and confident but always constantly falling into the same stuck position. You had the honor of giving me my first match in Sin City wrestling as you did for many others before and just like every single one of them I beat you. I'm coming even harder this time because there's so much more on the line. So if you can't step your game up, then you need to step down and get out of my way, because I'm coming for that top spot and I won't let some Neanderthal like you stop me.”

He pauses again to catch his breath.

“And of course there's Ciaran.” Zayvion continued “You remind me a bit of my boy Bug. You've got a lot of heart and you just got a good soul about you. Bug was always the heart of our group and the glue that kept us together. I know you have a good heart Ciaran, but you're going to need more than just heart if you think you're going to be winning this match. You're going to need grit, you're going to need to dig deep down and find more within yourself.”

He steps away from the fence keeping his eyes locked on the camera as he steps closer to it.

“And don't any of you get it twisted.” he continued lowering his voice “This ain't me disrespecting my crew. That's my family, that's my foundation. They are the reason I know how to read people the way I do, because when you grow up in a crew you learn how to move around different energies. You learn who you can run with and who you got to outpace.”

A small smirk crosses his face.

“At Blaze of Glory it's going to come down to who best understands the moment when everything gets chaotic.” he continued “And I grew up in chaos. When we were kids we didn't have perfect conditions, our basketball courts didn't have nets, the lights didn't always come on at night, the ball was slightly flat half the time,but we still played like it was game seven.”

He pauses for a beat.

“That taught me something.” he said “It taught me that you can't wait for the situation to be perfect, you have to make it work anyway. When everything breaks down I'm going to be the one who stays composed and see the opening before it's even there.”

Another beat.

“So keep looking for that moment Brayden.” said Zayvion “Because all you're going to do is keep looking, you're never going to find it at least not at my expense. You've got a family name like I do, but unlike you I'm not coasting off mine. I'm sure you like to party like I do. Well maybe not like I do, I prefer the block party with the boys, your type of party just isn't for me. No Diddy.”

He grins at the camera.

“You can keep trying to fee-fi-fo-fum your way through this Bill.” said Zayvion “But you're not going to be able to slow me down.  I'm going straight to the top and you're going to be stuck in your same position as the proverbial welcoming mat of SCW that everyone wipes their feet on.”

He pauses shortly.

“And you can bring all your smiles and charm Ciaran.” said Zayvion “But you have to look at this more than just a performance, and for Christ's sake, please keep your pants on. We don't need to have you getting flashbacks to your Magic Mike days.”

He chuckles to himself.

“I proved I belong here when I stood toe to toe with Alex Jones." said Zayvion “And the only reason he beat me is because he had to take a shortcut and he damn well knows it. I appreciate him giving me my flowers but if he really wanted to show me respect he would have beat me like a man.”

A soft exhale.

“I proved I belong here.” he continued “Now I prove I can become a champion. Now I prove that every growing pain I went through was building towards this. This is just another test for me and I've been passing tests like this my whole life all those nights with my crew and I didn't know how things were going to turn out we didn't know if we were going to win some basketball game or who was watching us from the sidelines, but we played anyway and that's the energy I bring to SCW and the energy I'm bringing to Blaze of Glory.”

He keeps his eyes locked on the lens.

“I'm not looking to be anybody's stepping stone.” he said “I'm going to be the guy stepping over each and every one of you. I'm going to be the guy climbing that ladder, and I'm going to be the guy that goes on to become the next SCW Roulette Champion. It's time for the Zayvion Lyons prologue to end and for the real story to begin. At Blaze of Glory I'm the one who walks out with the future.”

His eyes stay locked on the camera focused and ready as it fades to black.

[Andrew]

BILL BARNHART FATAL FOURWAY LADDER MATCH FOR BLAZE OF GLORY XV PART 1

A camera shot of Bill Barnhart from Fort Worth, Texas, where Bill is assigned to a wrestling match at BLAZE OF GLORY XV comes on our television screen. It appears this broadcast is being aired from the hotel room at the hotel where Bill and Bea and their English Bulldog Iris are staying during the time the BLAZE OF GLORY event is being held. Bill begins commenting on his match at BLAZE OF GLORY.

Bill:  Welcome to the hotel room where myself and Bea and Iris our English Bulldog are residing until BLAZE OF GLORY XV is done then we can return home to Lawrenceville, Georgia, for a few weeks until Sin City Wrestling is back on tour.

Bea: We are having a nice time in Forth Worth, Texas, as neither of us has ever been here. So, Bill, what will be your opening comments for today?

Bill:  Talking about my three opponents for our Fatal Four Way Ladder Match at Blaze of Glory XV.

Bea:  Me and the viewers are anxiously waiting to hear what you have to say.

Bill:  Nothing explosive concerning my three opponent…just the truth…and as we all know the truth hurts.

Bill picks up a sheet of paper and holds it for the camera person to get a clean shot of the document.

Bill:  Our match is a Ladder Match. The object of this match is for the four of us to try to climb the ladder and grab possession of the Contract that will give them a shot at the Roulette Championship. That person who grabs the Contract will be me of course.

Bea:  Let the run-down of you and your opponents begin.

Bill:  I will start with my statistics. I am six feet four inches and two hundred sixty pounds. I have the height and weight advantage in my match as I am the tallest and heaviest wrestler in this match and I am a two-time Sin City Wrestling Roulette Champion.

Bea:  And your opponents? How do they stand up to you?

Bill:  Brayden Williams is five feet ten inches and one hundred ninety pounds and that puts him at a disadvantage against me as he is giving up six inches in height and seventy pounds of weight to me.

Bea:  He is giving up a lot against you.

Bill:  Ciaran Doyel is five feet eleven inches and one hundred sixty-seven pounds. That puts him shorter than me by five inches in height and ninety-three pounds of weight to me.

Bea:  Amazing the advantage you have over him. And the last opponent you have in this match is Zayvion Lyons.

Bill:  The third, and final, opponent I have in this match is Zayvion Lyons. He comes into our match at five feet eleven inches and one hundred sixty-seven pounds placing him nine inches shorter than me and less forth-three pounds in weight. With that said I have the advantage of being taller and heavier and being a two-time Roulette Champion so my three opponents will walk away from this match as losers and I walk away as the winner with a Contract to challenge for the Roulette Championship.

Bea:  Gee, Bill, it appears that you are facing Midget Wrestlers for your match. Ha ha ha ha ha!!!

Bill:  I will admit that Brayden, Ciaran, and Zayvion, will try really really really hard but they will really really really fail to win this match as I will be the winner of this match and I will gain a another shot at the Sin City Wrestling Roulette Championship. I know that the three of them will brag and boast about how great they are in the wrestling ring. All that type of cheap trash talk has been going around in the sport of wrestling forever.

Bea:  So your opponents are short compared to you, in more than just their height and weight, if you get my concept of them, and they are going to try to brag their way to a win.

Bill:  Facing off against Brayden Williams, Ciaran Doyle, and Zayvion Lyons is like us having a nice dinner on our patio and then the bugs and flies arrive and try to land on our food and spoil our dinner meal. They are the cheap characters in our story and they want to buzz around and try to land on our food and walk away with some of our food after contaminating our food with their dirty filthy selves.

Bea:  I will make some comments now by putting myself in the place of your opponents by playing the Devin’s Advocate. I know there will likely be numerous ladders inside the ring for the four of you to use to try to get to the top of the ladder and obtain possession of the Briefcase to obtain the shot at the Roulette Championship. I also know that smaller, and less talented wrestlers, such as your three opponents, know you are an extremely difficult wrestler to disable. Do you have anything special or unusual that you might do during the match to obtain the Briefcase?

Bill:  Since I am bigger and stronger than my three opponents they are going to make the immediate assumption that with their smaller size and weight they will be able to reach the top of the ladders and snag the briefcase for a shot at the Roulette Championship. The way I look at my thee opponents they are like three Chihuahua dogs, all of about ten pounds each, running full speed into a Pit Bull fighting ring fully believing that they can take out the big dog in the pit for the win. If you take all the information we have on Brayden, Ciaran, and Sayvion, the three of them combined do not even come up to half the talent and abilities that I have coming into this match. They are to me nothing more than what we had when some flies came to our table and tried to steal our food. They are the pathetic pests and I am the Pest Exterminator.

Bea:  Bill it would be nice if you told your upcoming opponents about your two times earning the Roulette Championship.

<Bill:  Yes I will do that so my three opponents know what they are up against. Well, boys, and I call you three boys because you are not yet fully prepared to try to the man as highly decorated and adept in the wrestling ring. I held the Sin City Wrestling Hardcore Champion two times and I am going to tell you three how I accomplished that. The first time I obtained the Roulette Championship was in a match against Miles Kasey and Lincoln Daniels. This was due to the previous Roulette Champion unable to continue as the Champion so me, Miles, and Lincoln, had a match and the winner earned the Roulette Championship. I won that match on October 3, 2021, and I held the Roulette Championship until April 2, 2022 for six month rein as Sin City Wrestler Roulette Champion. My second reign as Roulette Champion began in October 20, 2022, and it lasted until January 15, 2023. I lost the Roulette Championship to Goth on that date. So I have the history within the Roulette Championship of two runs as Roulette Champion with a total time of nine months as Sin City Wrestling Roulette Champion. Trust me that the three of you are so pathetic and at a disadvantage against me I have no clue why you were placed in this match at Blaze of Glory XV since you three combined do not come even half way up to my level of superiority in this match. You three will watch me earn my third Roulette Championship and there is nothing you can do to prevent me from obtaining that goal. Get used to having me at the Sin City Wrestling Roulette Champion after I destroy the three of you in our upcoming match. Deal with that punks!

Bea gives a CUT sign to the camera person and the camera person cuts their camera feed and the screen goes dark.

[Celtic Thunder]

La Quinta Inn & Suites -
Las Vegas, Nevada

Ciarán lay on his back, not even trying to sleep. He stared at the ceiling the way people stared at a television when they didn't care what was on. There was a hairline crack in the paint above the bed that forked like a tiny lightning bolt, and he found himself tracing the arc with his eyes. Just for something to do.

His mind did not race the way it did before a match or performance. Instead, it felt as if he was struggling to form even the most basic of coherent thoughts. He knew well what he should be doing. The mental checklist was at the forefront of his mind. Shower. Teeth. Food. Check in with the family.

He knew what he should be doing. He wanted to do it. The problem was the mental gap between imagining and moving felt about as wide as Whittard Canyon.

He shifted once and even that felt like a monumental effort and made him want to close his eyes. Not to sleep, just to do something besides stare at the ceiling. The bed had become a mental sanctuary, more so than the isolation of the room overall. Here, he was not Ciarán Doyle the wrestler, not the bloke who took his pants off and gave the ladies a show. Here, tucked away in the confines of his room, he could be nobody at all. He was just a body taking up space.

At some point his stomach tightened with hunger but he ignored it. He told himself he would feel better if he ate, but the idea was just too much to deal with. He told himself he would feel better if he showered, but the idea of standing under the hot, cascading water felt unbearable. All he wanted to do was just lay there.

So by the fourth day, time just seemed to stop. It was just light and dark inside of the room with the shades drawn, at the time he didn't even pay attention to the clock to tell him what time it was. There were weak signs scattered around the room that served as evidence that life went on. A t-shirt he had dropped by the chair. A pair of socks kicked under the bed. A half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand. The trash bin was filled with crisps wrappers and protein bar sleeves because they required no effort beyond unwrapping.

He knew he smelled, not horribly so but just enough to be aware of himself. Sweat dried on his skin. His hair lay greasy against his forehead, which was a testament to how he felt internally as his hair had always been his pride and joy. His toothbrush sat by the sink. The thought of brushing his teeth felt absurdly complicated. He would have to stand there, mirror in front of him, looking at himself. Looking at his own, haunted eyes looking back at an emotional ghost.

He had been good at self-discipline once. Training schedules, meal plans, the rituals of a wrestler/dancer who knew his body was his job. Now the rituals felt like demands made by a stranger. He would stand in the bathroom doorway and stare at the shower and he would not step in. He would turn away and simply go back to bed. He told himself he was choosing rest. He told himself he was recovering. But the truth was that he had started to dread movement because movement meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering the sound of pain and disappointment in Ruairí’s voice when he confessed about the night he was sexually assaulted at a bridal shower.

His phone buzzed but he didn’t bother to look. It buzzed again later but he still couldn't bother to look at the screen to see who was trying to reach him. On the third buzz he immediately reached blindly for his phone and turned it off.

Then the knock came the following morning. Ciarán froze, staring at the door like it might burst open on its own.

“Housekeeping.” A woman called from outside, cheerful and professional. “Hello? Housekeeping.”

He held his breath, waiting for her to go away. Another knock followed, slightly firmer, and the voice repeated. He imagined her with a cart outside, keys jangling, a schedule in her head, a list of rooms to turn over and reset. He imagined her patience thinning.

The thought of someone entering made his stomach turn. The mess. The smell. The bed he had lived in like it was the only safe place on earth. He literally was feeling shame more so than dread. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes that felt like sandpaper.

“Just a minute!” He called, and his voice came out hoarse.

He stood up and steadied himself with a hand on the dresser before crossing to the door and opening it. The housekeeper was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a genuine smile, pushing a cart stacked with towels and cleaning supplies.

“Good morning.” She said. “Would you like service today?”

Ciarán swallowed. He could smell himself more clearly now, shame rising to color his neck and ears. He forced his face into something neutral, something that might pass for normal.

“Aye.” He nodded, stepping aside to give her entry into the room. “Sorry. I’ve been a fair bit out of sorts.”

She did not ask questions. She just nodded. “No worries. If you want to step out for a bit, I can take care of the room.”

Stepping out felt like stepping off a cliff, but staying in while she worked felt worse. Ciarán grabbed his keycard and slipped past her with awkward politeness. Stepping out onto the patio, he closed his eyes, almost remembering when he used to love the warm winds and bright blue skies. Now? Now he just wished the Las Vegas air would blow the stink off of him. He walked to the railing by the stairwell and tried to breathe slowly, but each inhale caught in his chest. Behind him, he heard the soft rustle of the housekeeper moving in his room. The sound of sheets being pulled, trash being gathered, the small clink of bottles. Ordinary noises that felt like nails on a chalkboard.

When she finally emerged, she smiled again. “All done. Fresh towels inside.”

“Thank you.” He said quickly.

“Have a good day.” She replied, and she moved on down the hall and toward the next door.

Ciarán quickly went back inside and closed the door behind him, pressing his back to it for a moment. The room looked cleaner, brighter. The bed was made with tight corners that made, the trash was gone. He even noticed that the window was slightly open to air the room out, perhaps a silent tell from the lovely lady that there indeed was an odor, be it the room or him.

Then, quietly, he climbed under the covers again and lay down. He didn’t even know when he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. All he knew was that when he woke up, his stomach was in painful knots from hunger. He had a stash of snacks from the lobby, crackers, jerky, and a bag of pretzels. Safe foods. Foods his mam would call shite and she’d be right to do so.

But the day came when the snacks ran out and he was left with nothing but hunger. He lay there until his body began to protest. His hands trembled slightly when he tried to open a bottle of water. His stomach cramped from nothing filling it. He developed headaches and felt that weak feeling one went through when going too long without eating. That’s when he finally broke down and picked up the phone, ignoring the multitude of missed calls and texts inquiring about his well being. The only thing he cared about right now was the Door Dash app.

The app offered him pictures of food that looked too colourful, too alive. Burgers with glossy buns. Tacos stacked high with bright salsa. Bowls of noodles steaming. His throat tightened as if he might cry, and he did not understand why. Food was just food. Ordering it was normal. He had ordered food a thousand times. Yet the act of choosing felt like admitting he needed something, and the act of needing something felt like failure.

His emerald green eyes gazed at the various options offered to him from the menu of countless restaurants, everything from Italian to tacos and even so-called traditional kebabs. The same ones he used to order for his family back home. That memory alone brought a fresh wave of emotion against him and he didn’t know why. It was just food.

The waiting felt worse than the hunger. Every sound outside made him visibly tense. He sat on the floor, his eyes staring at the updates on his phone app as the delivery driver drew nearer. When the app said “Delivered,” he forced himself up and walked to the door. He opened it a crack and saw the bag sitting there. He picked it up fast and shut the door with a shaky hand. The smell hit him immediately, the smell of lamb kebab reminding him of home and it felt like his heart fractured.

He sank to the floor with the bag in his lap and pressed his forehead to his knees. Tears came abruptly, hot and humiliating, and he covered his mouth with his hand to keep from making sound. His shoulders shook. He cried like a man who had been holding his breath for days. The sobs were silent but violent, pulling at him from the inside. He hated himself for it. He hated that something as small as a meal could break him.

When the crying eased, he wiped his face with the sleeve of the same hoodie he had been wearing too long. He opened the bag and started to pull the kebab and chips along with a small but generous salad when the knock came again, startling him. It was not the same polite rhythm from housekeeping earlier. This was heavier, more deliberate.

Ciarán stared at the door and waited, hoping whoever it was would decide it was the wrong room. A second knock followed, louder. Even more insistent than before.

“Ciarán!” A voice called through the door, and his blood went cold. Not from his name being spoken like that. But the voice behind it. The Irish, rough around the edges, all-too familiar voice.

“Ciarán Doyle!” The voice repeated, closer to the door now, as if the speaker had leaned in. “Don’t you dare sit in there pretendin’ you can’t hear me! Open the damn door, lad!”

Ruairí O’Callaghan.

His best friend.


"Aye, so here we are."

"Blaze of Glory XV. Not just yer average Sunday night tune-up match. This is a prime Supercard event, and for the first time since I walked into Sin City Wrestling, I made the cut. I’m in a match where the prize isn’t just a win, it’s momentum. It’s the kind of opportunity that changes the way this locker room looks at you an says your name."

"And it’s not just any opportunity either. It’s a chance at the Roulette Championship. That belt is chaos personified. You don’t defend it against the same sort of lad every time. Every opponent is different, every match decided with a flick of the wheel. As Roulette Champion, you don’t get to settle in and get comfortable. Roulette means uncertainty. It means every defence could be a different kind of fight every night and the champion has to be ready for all of it. That title turns a good wrestler into an unpredictable sort capable of changing at a moment’s notice an’ everyone’s always lookin’ for the right moment to take it off you."

"An’ that sounds good to me because I didn’t come across the ocean to be some novelty act. I didn’t come here to be the Irish lad with the accent who can scrap a bit and make the crowd cheer because I’ve a new face with a bright smile. I came here because I know there are nights in this sport that change careers. Blaze of Glory is one of those nights. This match is one of those chances."

"Now I’m goin’ to say somethin’ that might make a few of you laugh, and a few more of you nod because you already know. I don’t quite understand the concept of a Ladder Match. I’m not sayin’ I don’t understand the rules, I’m not thick. Four men. One ladder. A briefcase hangin’ up there like a shiny promise. Climb. Unhook. Win. I get that much."

"What I don’t understand is the way some of you talk about it like it proves who the better wrestler is. Because tell me this … how does climbin’ a ladder decide who’s the best between the ropes? If the measure of greatness is who can climb faster, we may as well book a track meet and hang titles at the end."

"But maybe that’s the point of it here in SCW. Maybe this place is sayin’ if I want a shot at the most unpredictable title in the business, then I have to earn it through pure chaos. Fine, I say! Bring those three lads along for the ride and let’s see which of us can survive a night’s chaos for a moment that will define us.”

"I’m new around here, aye. I’ll own that. I’m still learnin’ the rhythm of this place, still learnin’ who shakes your hand and who smiles while they’re lookin’ for a knife. But bein’ new doesn’t mean bein’ soft, and it doesn’t mean bein’ blind. It means I’ve been watchin’, and I’ve been takin’ notes. It means I’ve been learnin’ what makes each of my opponents dangerous, because a Fatal Fourway Ladder match isn’t about outwrestlin’ one man. It’s about survivin’ three at once while the environment itself is tryin’ to break you."

"So let’s talk about them."

"First, ‘Bulldog’ Bill Barnhart. That name carries weight. It carries history. Multiple championships. Multiple Hall of Fame inductions. When people talk about legacy in this locker room, his is one of the first names they mention because he’s been doin’ this so long and so well that it’s easy to forget he was once the young lad fightin’ for respect too. And I’ll give him his due. Bill Barnhart is the kind of opponent you don’t get every day. He’s the kind you face and you learn somethin’, even if the lesson comes with a fist to the jaw. I’ve been waitin’ anxiously for a chance to stand across from him because, for me, that’s a true test. That’s the standard. That’s the question I have to ask myself. Can I look at a man who’s done it all and make him respect me the hard way?"

"But I’ll be honest as well. There's one part of the Barnhart package that sticks in my craw and it’s his wife, Bea. The manager. The one always gettin’ involved, always meddlin’, an’ always playin’ the victim after as if the opponents are the guilty party for reactin’."

"So Bill, let me say this plain. I respect you. I respect what you’ve done. I respect that you’ve paved the way for lads like me to be taken seriously when we arrive in a new place. But if Bea puts her hands on this match, if she starts playin’ puppet master then you an’ she both are gonna learn that this is a ladder match, which means anythin’ goes, and it also means consequences come quicker than apologies."

"Now for Zayvion Lyons."

"I’ll admit it, it’s a damn shame to lose Eddie Lyons. You don’t replace a name like that and pretend it’s business as usual. But SCW didn’t bring in Zayvion to replace Eddie. They brought him in to carry the Lyons Den forward, and the lad’s been on fire since his debut. Until recently he’d been unbeaten, and even now he carries himself like someone who believes he’s meant for bigger things. The fans love him and me? What I respect most is he doesn’t want to rely on the Lyons name. He could coast on it, but instead he’s tryin’ to prove that when he wins, it’s because he earned it, not because of what’s on his birth certificate. That’s a decent sort of man, that."

"So Zayvion, I’m lookin’ forward to steppin’ in the ring with you. Not because I think you’ll be easy. You won’t. You’re quick, you’re hungry, and you’ve got that confidence that makes a lad dangerous, especially in a ladder match where hunger turns into high risk. But I’ll tell you this as well. If you climb that ladder and you reach for that briefcase, I’m meetin’ you up there, and I’m draggin’ you down, because this is my first Supercard cut and I’m not lettin’ it become your coronation."

"And then last and certainly least, there’s Brayden Williams."

"Brayden, what is it now, 0-12? I’d call it a record, but for that to be accurate you’d have to have a win somewhere along the line. You’re collectin’ losses like souvenirs, lad. I remember facin’ you in one of my first matches here an’ everyone thought the third generation star would shine through. But it wasn’t the brightest of stars, was it? It was a fallin’ one. Bright for a second in the minds of people desperate to believe a story, and then gone. And the longer you’ve been here, the more it looks like the story was wishful thinkin’."

"So I have to ask, and I’m not askin’ to be cruel, I’m askin’ because I genuinely want to understand. How is someone with your track record the son of Crystal Zdunich? Why did they waste the ink signin’ you to a contract if it wasn’t mommy pullin’ a few strings? And more importantly, why did they put you in this match? What have you done to deserve the opportunity?"

"Because this is supposed to be a match for a chance at the Roulette Championship. This is supposed to elevate people. It’s supposed to be a match where you look at the names and you think, ‘Aye, any of them could take it.’ But you don’t feel like a contender, Brayden. You feel like padding. Like a body they tossed in to take a bump off a ladder and make the others look even better than they already do. In other words, you’re nothing more than a sacrificial lamb."

"And that should offend you. That should light a fire in you, because desperation is dangerous. Desperation makes a man do stupid things. It makes him swing a ladder like it’s a baseball bat and hope it connects. It makes him climb when he shouldn’t, reach when he’s not steady, take a risk that ends with his arse kissin’ the canvas."

"So maybe that’s why you’re in this match. Not because you deserve it, but because they know you’re reckless. They know you’ll do somethin’ insane just to feel relevant. And that means I have to treat you seriously, even if I don’t respect you. Just remember that while you think of yourself as a star, any grade school kid can tell ya that a star ain’t nothin’ more than a big ball of gas."

"Now let’s talk about Blaze of Glory and what’s actually goin’ to happen."

"I didn’t claw my way into this match to be background noise. I didn’t make the cut for the biggest show of the season so I could fall off the ladder and get a participation trophy. I made the cut because someone looked at my work and decided I was worth the spot, worth the risk, worth the gamble. Either way, I intend to make them lok back at their decision and think to themselves, that I did them right.."

"I might not believe a ladder match proves the better wrestler, but I do know what it demands. It demands willingness. It demands pain tolerance. It demands that when the safest choice is to stay down, you choose to get up anyway. That’s not a ladder match thing, that’s basic survival."

"So when I say I’m goin’ to climb, I’m not sayin’ it like a lad who thinks the ladder makes him better. I’m sayin’ it like a lad who knows the ladder is just the stage for what’s always been true. The one who wins is the one who refuses to quit when quittin’ makes sense. The one who wins is the one who takes the hit, tastes the blood, feels the pain, and still finds a way to keep movin’ toward the prize."

"Bill Barnhart, you’re the test. You’re the measurin’ stick. You’re the proof that experience still bites. I respect you, and I’m goin’ to hit you like I respect you, which means I’m not holdin’ back. Zayvion Lyons, you’re the future tryin’ to become the present, and I won’t be the steppin’ stone you use to get there. Brayden Williams, you’re the question mark they tossed in, and if you do somethin’ stupid, I’ll make you pay for it."

"At Blaze of Glory XV, there’s goin’ to be a moment when the ring’s littered with ladders and bodies, when the crowd’s roarin’ and the lights are hot. There’s goin’ to be a moment when one man starts to climb and the whole match narrows to that image, hands on rungs, boots searchin’ for balance, the briefcase hangin’ there like it’s nervous about bein’ claimed."

"And in that moment, I want all of SCW to understand somethin’ about Ciarán Doyle."

"I didn’t come here to be ‘a good hand.’ I didn’t come here to be ‘potential.’ I didn’t come here to be the nice addition to the roster. I came here to take somethin’. I came here to earn somethin’ that can’t be handed to me by politics or legacy or family names. I came here to put my name on the kind of match that forces people to remember it."

"So if the ladder is the way SCW wants to measure me, fine. I’ll climb. I’ll climb over a Hall of Famer. I’ll climb through the fire of the Lyons Den. I’ll climb past a fallin’ star swingin’ wild because he’s terrified of bein’ forgotten. I’ll climb with my ribs achin’ and my hands shakin’ and my lungs burnin’, and I’ll do it because the view from the top is where careers change."

"And when my fingers close around that briefcase, when I unhook it and I hold it up, you’ll have your answer."

"Blaze of Glory XV. Fatal Fourway. Ladder match. Chance at the Roulette Championship."

"I made the cut, and I’m not leavin’ empty-handed."