Backstage at Climax Control, Reno
The backstage area was alive with noise, but it all felt muted to Miles. His blood was still boiling, his jaw tight as he stormed down the corridor. Crew members moved out of his way, sensing the fury radiating off him like heat from a roaring fire. His fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles had turned white, and his chest rose and fell with sharp, heavy breaths.
He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the gall of Kevin Carter.
Miles replayed the scene over and over in his mind. The smug look on Kevin’s face. The vile words dripping from his mouth as he had the audacity to demean Carter, to call his championship reign “embarrassing.” It was bullshit. Absolute Grade A 100% bullshit.
The worst part? Kevin wasn’t just attacking Carter’s abilities as a wrestler—he was attacking who Carter was. Every jab, every sneer, every word was designed to chip away at the incredible man that Miles had fallen in love with, the man who had fought tooth and nail to prove himself, time and time again.
And then Kevin had taken it further. He had gone after him. Calling him out for his past mistakes, for attacking Finn when desperation had gotten the better of him. Kevin had thrown it in his face like he wasn’t already carrying the weight of that guilt every damn day.
“Goddammit!” Miles growled, punching a wall as he turned a corner. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain up his arm, but it barely registered.
“Miles!”
The sound of Carter’s voice cut through the haze of anger, and Miles stopped dead in his tracks. Carter was standing a few feet away, looking equal parts concerned and annoyed. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his face—still healing from the damage Kevin had inflicted—was drawn tight with emotion.
“What the hell were you doing out there?” Carter demanded, his tone sharp but tinged with worry. “I told you not to get involved. I was the one that wanted to handle it.”
Miles turned to face him fully, his expression still heated. “I couldn’t just stand there, Carter. Not after everything he’s done to you. Not after the shit he said tonight. I couldn’t let him—”
“You couldn’t let him what? Run his mouth?” Carter interrupted, stepping closer. “He’s a blowhard, Miles! That’s what he does! You think I haven’t dealt with guys like him before?”
Miles ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. “It’s not the same, Carter. He didn’t just run his mouth—he attacked you, not once but TWICE! He broke your goddamn nose. He’s gone out of his way to humiliate you, to tear you down, and for what? To get a shot at the Internet Championship? He’s a coward. And it’s my fault he got to you in the first place.”
Carter blinked, taken aback. “Your fault? How is any of this your fault?”
“Because I wasn’t there to stop him!” Miles shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “I should have been there, Carter. I should have been there to protect you, to make sure that piece of shit couldn’t touch you. But I wasn’t. I was to fucking caught up in my own bullshit and my own selfishness to try and- and...I don’t fucking know, prove something to people who barely give and/or gave a fuck about me. And now you’re standing here still healing from a broken nose because of it. Because of me.”
Carter stared at him, his expression softening as he realized the depth of Miles’ guilt. He took a step closer, reaching out to touch Miles’ arm. “Miles, listen to me. This isn’t your fault. Kevin Carter attacked me because he’s an asshole, and he sees me as an easy target. It’s not and never because of anything you did or didn’t do.”
“But I could have stopped him,” Miles said, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “I could have been there, Carter. And I wasn’t. I let you down.”
“You didn’t let me down,” Carter said firmly, his hand squeezing Miles’ arm. “You can’t be everywhere all the time, Miles. You can’t protect me from every single thing that comes my way. And I don’t need you to. I’m a grown man. I can handle myself.”
Miles shook his head, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to keep you safe. You’re my husband, Carter. You’re the most important person in the world to me. And when I see someone like Kevin coming after you, trying to hurt you—not just physically, but in every way he can—I can’t just sit back and do nothing. I won’t.”
Carter sighed, his frustration melting into understanding. He knew Miles. He knew the way his mind worked, the way he always took on the weight of the world when it came to the people he loved. It was one of the things that had made Carter fall in love with him in the first place, but it was also something that worried him.
“You’ve got a bit of a hero complex, you know that?” Carter said gently, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Miles let out a bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Mostly because Dr. Delacore just had practically the same type of conversation in their last session just before they left for Reno, “Yeah, I know. But I don’t give a shit. I’d rather get my ass kicked ten times over than see you get hurt again.”
Carter stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Miles and pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love you, Miles. But you’ve got to trust me to handle this. Kevin Carter doesn’t scare me. He’s just another guy who thinks he’s better than he is. And come Inception, I’ll put him in his place.”
Miles buried his face in Carter’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around him just as tightly. “I know you will. I just… I can’t help it, love. I can’t stand the thought of him getting away with what he’s done to you.”
“He won’t,” Carter said firmly, pulling back to look Miles in the eye. “Trust me, okay? I’ve got this.”
Miles nodded, though the fire in his chest hadn’t completely cooled. “Alright. But before Inception, I want my shot at him.”
Carter raised a brow, surprised. “What?”
Miles’ voice was resolute, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve already done it. I challenged him to a match at Climax Control—main event. He wants to run his mouth, throw around his bullshit insults, and act like some big, untouchable force? Fine. He can back it up in the ring, against me.”
“Miles—” Carter started, but Miles cut him off.
“No. Don’t try to talk me out of this,” Miles said sharply. “You asked me to stay out of it, and I tried. But I won’t stand back anymore, Carter. You’re my husband. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I won’t let Kevin Carter tear you down while I watch from the sidelines. He hurt you, and I wasn’t there to stop it. That’s on me. But I’ll make damn sure he doesn’t walk into Inception thinking he’s got the upper hand on you.”
Carter sighed, his expression softening despite the frustration simmering in his eyes. “Miles, I don’t need you fighting my battles. I know you mean well, but Kevin wants this. He wants to bait you into playing his game. And when you give him what he wants, he’ll twist it into something else. He’ll find another way to push us. He’s not worth it.”
“I know what he’s doing,” Miles said, his jaw tightening. “And I don’t care. He attacked you when he knew I wasn’t around, broke your damn nose like a coward, and now he’s running his mouth like he’s untouchable. Someone has to shut him up before Inception, and it might as well be me.”
Carter hesitated, seeing the determination in Miles’ eyes. He knew better than to try and talk him out of it now. Miles was stubborn—always had been—and when it came to protecting the people he loved, there was no stopping him. Finally, Carter nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Fine,” he relented. “But you better be careful out there. Kevin’s not above pulling some shady shit...we all saw what he did to Mark. And the last thing I need is both of us limping into Inception.”
Miles smirked faintly, the first flicker of humor breaking through his stormy expression. “You forget who you’re talking to. If he tries anything, I’ll make sure he regrets it.”
Carter shook his head, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Miles replied with a shrug. “But you love me anyway.”
Carter smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Miles’ lips. “That I do. Now come on. Let’s get out of here before you punch another wall.”
Miles chuckled, the sound low and tired but genuine. “Deal.”
As they walked down the corridor together, Miles glanced over at Carter, his resolve hardening. Kevin Carter might have started this fight, but Miles would be damned if he let him walk into Inception unscathed. This wasn’t just about payback; it was about standing up for the man he loved—and Miles wasn’t going to let anyone, least of all Kevin Carter, forget it.
Freemont Street – Las Vegas
The dazzling lights of Freemont Street painted a vivid, electric glow on the bustling crowds below. The air was alive with laughter, music from street performers, and the occasional clinking of coins from tourists trying their luck at slot machines. Miles had his arm draped casually around Carter’s shoulders, both of them immersed in the chaos of the scene but entirely at ease in each other’s company.
“It’s so tacky, but I kind of love it,” Carter admitted with a grin, glancing at a performer juggling fire while dancing to a drumbeat.
“Tacky is part of the charm,” Miles replied, leaning in closer to him. “Besides, where else can you see someone trying to breakdance in a Chewbacca costume?”
Carter chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “I’ll give you that.”
They were just about to stop by one of the food trucks when a sudden commotion behind them made them turn. A group of kids, no older than teenagers, came tearing through the crowd, their faces etched with panic. Behind them, a mix of Las Vegas PD officers and security guards yelled commands to stop.
Before either of them could react, one of the kids—maybe 16 or 17, with a wiry frame and wide, frightened eyes—slammed directly into Miles. The impact sent the kid sprawling to the ground and knocked Miles down to one knee.
“Hey, watch it!” Miles barked, startled as he steadied himself. He glanced down at the kid, his sharp tone softening when he locked eyes with him.
The boy’s eyes—brown, but tinged with something familiar—stared back at Miles for a split second, wide with recognition, before the kid scrambled to his feet and bolted again into the crowd, disappearing before Miles could say another word.
Carter was at Miles’ side immediately, helping him up. “You okay? That looked like it hurt.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Miles said distractedly, dusting himself off. “Just caught me off guard.”
Carter studied him with concern. “You sure? You’re not limping or anything?”
“I said I’m fine,” Miles assured him, but then he started patting his pockets. A frown crossed his face as he checked them all over again. “Son of a bitch.”
“What?” Carter asked, confused.
“My wallet,” Miles muttered, shaking his head. “That little shit swiped my wallet.”
Carter groaned. “Great. Do you want to call and cancel your cards or—?”
“Not yet,” Miles interrupted, already scanning the crowd. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Carter grabbed his arm, concern etched across his face. “Miles, don’t—”
“I’ll be fine,” Miles cut him off, his voice calm but firm. “Just go. I’ll meet you at the pizza place.”
Carter hesitated, clearly reluctant, but eventually nodded. “Alright. But don’t do anything stupid.”
Miles gave him a small smile. “When do I ever?”
Carter snorted. “Do you want the list alphabetized or chronological?”
With a quick peck on the cheek, Carter disappeared into the crowd, leaving Miles to weave his way in the opposite direction, determined to find the kid.
A Secluded Alleyway – Off Freemont Street
The kid’s lungs burned as he ducked into a narrow alley, clutching the stolen wallet tightly in his hands. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one had followed him. The flashing lights of Freemont Street seemed far away now, the noise of the crowd fading into the distance.
He leaned against a wall, trying to catch his breath. Opening the wallet, he quickly flipped through it, pulling out a few bills and barely glancing at the ID.
“Pretty nice haul,” he muttered to himself, shoving the cash into his pocket.
“You done?”
The voice startled him, making him whirl around. Standing at the other end of the alley, arms crossed and leaning casually against the wall, was Miles.
The kid’s eyes widened in shock. “How the hell—”
“Old habits die hard,” Miles said, pushing off the wall and taking a few slow steps toward him. “You think you’re the first little punk to try and outrun me on the streets?”
The kid backed up instinctively, his grip on the wallet tightening. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Too late for that,” Miles said, his tone calm but firm. “Now, how about you give that back before we both have to waste any more time?”
The boy hesitated, his eyes darting to the exit behind Miles.
“I wouldn’t,” Miles warned, as if reading his thoughts. “You’re fast, but I’m faster. Trust me, kid, you’re not getting past me.”
“Stop calling me ‘kid,’” the boy snapped, throwing the wallet back at Miles with enough force that it bounced off his chest. “There. Happy now?”
Miles caught the wallet mid-fall and tucked it into his pocket, but his eyes never left the boy. “Not really. You’ve got a hell of a chip on your shoulder.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a tough world,” the boy shot back, his voice bitter. “I’m just doing what I need to do to survive. You wouldn’t get it.”
Miles raised an eyebrow. “You think I don’t get it? You’re not the only one who had to scrape by on the streets.”
The boy scoffed, shaking his head. “Whatever. I don’t care who you are. And I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anyone.”
Miles took a step closer, his voice softening. “That so? Well, I guess that’s why you’re out here alone, stealing wallets from people who would’ve helped you if you just asked.”
The boy didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he avoided Miles’ gaze.
For a moment, Miles just stood there, studying him. And then, as recognition dawned on him, his expression softened.
“Kevin,” he said quietly.
The boy froze, his eyes snapping to Miles in shock.
“Yeah,” Miles said, nodding as if confirming it to himself. “I remember you. Karen’s kid, right?”
Kevin’s face twisted into a mixture of anger and pain. “Don’t talk about her. You don’t know anything.”
“You’re right,” Miles said, his voice steady. “But I do know what it’s like to feel like the whole world’s against you. And I know what it’s like to push people away because you think you don’t have a choice.”
Kevin’s glare faltered for a moment, but he quickly shook it off. “Whatever. This is a waste of time.”
Miles didn’t stop him as he turned to leave. Instead, he pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and set it down on a nearby box.
“You know where to find me and Carter,” Miles said simply. “Whenever you’re ready to stop running.”
Kevin paused, glancing over his shoulder at the bill and then at Miles. For a moment, he looked like he might say something, but then he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Miles sighed, running a hand through his hair. He stared at the empty alleyway for a long moment before heading back toward Freemont Street.
It’s a Simple Complex...Really.
The scene opens on an empty gym late at night. A single overhead light casts shadows across the empty ring, illuminating Miles Kasey as he pummels a heavy punching bag with precision strikes. Each punch lands with thunderous force, reverberating through the room. His breaths are sharp, controlled, but you can see the fire burning behind his ice-blue eyes.
Miles stops suddenly, leaning his forearm against the bag. Sweat drips from his forehead, and his chest rises and falls with deep breaths. He looks up into the camera that's perched on a tripod a few feet away, waiting for him to speak. And when he does, his voice is calm… but it carries the weight of a storm.
"You know, Kevin Carter… I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Ever since the first time you decided to open that gaping maw of yours and let out the diarrhea you call words, I knew it was only a matter of time before we ended up here.
You talk big, don’t you, Kev? You puff out your chest, throw around your little insults, and think you’re untouchable. But here’s the thing about people like you: when you strip away all the bravado, all the fake tough-guy crap, all that’s left is a scared little boy desperately clinging to relevance. And that’s what you are, isn’t it, Kevin? Just another loudmouth, insecure jackass trying to convince the world that you’re bigger than you are."
Miles steps back from the bag, running a hand through his damp hair before stepping into the ring. He leans on the ropes, staring directly into the camera.
"You know what pisses me off the most about you, Kevin? It’s not the constant trash talk. It’s not even the fact that you’re a walking, talking advertisement for mediocrity. No, what pisses me off the most is that you had the audacity to question me. To accuse me—me—of being willing to hurt my own family, my own husband, for a shot at the SCW Internet Championship.
Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I’ve never wanted that title. Never. I had my time with it and that time has passed. My goals are much higher than that. I don’t care about shiny objects to prop up my ego. I don’t need a championship to validate my place in this company. Because when I step into that ring, I don’t just win matches—I make statements. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Kevin? Because you’re too busy clinging to a belt you barely deserve, trying to convince yourself that it makes you worth something."
Miles steps into the center of the ring, his fists clenched at his sides. His voice grows colder, more venomous.
"And let’s talk about how you’ve treated Carter, huh? You’ve gone out of your way to paint him as some kind of victim, like I would ever lay a hand on him in anything other than love and support. I’m not surprised that you took that road to try and get under my skin about how you would even THINK that I would ever hurt him to get to glory. And yeah, he asked me to let him take care of it and like a moron I jumped both feet in, when you went out in Reno last week. But I have a newsflash, Kev: Carter doesn’t need protecting. Least of all from you.
See, the difference between you and me is that I don’t need to tear people down to feel good about myself. I know it appears certain ways at times but I don’t need to play the hero, the villain, or whatever other role you’re trying to shove yourself into this week. I know who I am. I’ve faced my demons, and I’ve come out stronger. Can you say the same, Kevin? Or are you still hiding behind that flimsy mask, hoping no one sees the cracks underneath?"
Miles paces the ring now, his movements sharp and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.
"You’re a leech, Kevin. A parasite. You latch onto people, onto opportunities, and you suck the life out of them until there’s nothing left. And then you move on to the next host. That’s what you tried to do with Carter, isn’t it? You thought you could manipulate him, use him as a pawn in whatever pathetic little game you’re playing. But you underestimated him. You underestimated us. And that’s where you made your biggest mistake."
Miles stops in the center of the ring, his eyes locked on the camera. His voice drops to a low, dangerous tone.
"You see, Kevin, this match isn’t about titles. It’s not about rankings or wins and losses. This is personal. You made it personal the moment you decided to drag my name through the mud, the moment you questioned my loyalty, my love for Carter. You opened Pandora’s box, Kev, and now you’re going to deal with the consequences.
Come Climax Control, there won’t be any fancy words to hide behind. No excuses. No running. It’ll just be you and me, one-on-one. And when that bell rings, I’m going to show you exactly why you should have kept my name out of your mouth. And I’ll leave just enough of you for Carter for Inception when the Kasey-McKinney’s put your smart mouth in its place once and for all.
You wanted my attention, Kevin? Well, congratulations. You’ve got it. But I promise you, by the time I’m done, you’re going to wish you hadn’t."
Miles picks up the punching bag from earlier, slings it over his shoulder, and throws it over the top rope with a single, powerful motion. The sound of it hitting the floor echoes through the empty gym as Miles walks toward the camera, stopping just inches away.
"Enjoy these last few days while you can, Kevin. Because at Climax Control, your little reign of mediocrity comes to an end. And me? I’ll be the one holding the shovel."
Miles smirks coldly before stepping out of frame, leaving the camera focused on the empty ring as the scene fades to black.
