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Scoops McGee · (02-08-2026)

“You know, Terrence, after all this time, I was hoping I’d actually get to see you again for once.” The grin of Crusher von Steinberg stretched from ear-to-ear, his teeth like jagged shark teeth that was eager to take a bite out of the man before him.

Chicago.

It always comes back to Chicago.

Even when Scoops McGee had been ready to put this city behind him, he was forced to come crawling back.

“I’d say I’m damn happy to see you too, boah, but we both know I’d be lyin’, and I ain’t in the interest of doin’ that.” Scoops’ brow furrowed, moving from the man in the wheelchair to the hulking brute beside him. “And I see you brought yer’ little nepo-baby beside you. What else is new?”

Jonas Baumann sneered at Scoops, a sight that made Noah’s stomach toss and turn as he held the camera a respectable distance behind Scoops and away from the action. “Last I checked, old man, we said to you that after War Games, I’d beat you senseless.”

He motioned beside him, into the empty alleyway, hidden from prying eyes and ears. “And it’s been far past War Games. If anything, you’re overdue for that beating.”

Scoops said nothing, his clouded gaze moving from the crippled Crusher back to his nephew. Noah cautiously nudged himself forward, leaning up to whisper into Scoops’ ear. “Maybe we should, uh… try to get out of here…?”

Scoops looked back towards Noah, silencing him with his gaze as he turned towards the two bloodthirsty men. “Ain’t interested. Scram.”

Jonas looked like he was about to pounce on Scoops in the street and drag him by force into the alleyway, but the booming laughter of the Crusher cut him off from doing so. “I never took you for being a coward, Terrence. In fact, I vividly recall you saying that you’d fight an army from us if need be.”

“And I got business here that’s more important than you two little fucks would ever be,” Scoops frowned in response. “Figured the two of you would appreciate a little somethin’ about family, you know.”

“Bah!” the Crusher dismissed with a wave of his hand. “‘Family.’ We both know how you ruined that sort of thing like the plague, Terrence. That’s your own doing. You don’t need to ruin their lives any more than you already have by leaving them and running all over the world.”

“I’m taking responsibility for my actions, you little fuck,” Scoops spat back with venom. “And I know good and Goddamn well that’s something you’ve never done a day in yer’ life. Look at you. You’re hidin’ behind yer’ own nephew and lettin’ him fight yer’ own battles. And nepo-baby over there decides the best way to get back is by sneak attackin’ others when they got their guards down. Don’t think I forgot about that headbutt earlier.”

The argument continued to rage as the two sides went back and forth. Noah shuddered, squirming in his boots as he quickly checked around him. The two sides were quickly drawing a crowd, some hushed whispers getting exchanged between them as a few men pointed towards Scoops in recognition.

They weren’t going to be able to drag Scoops off without making a huge scene, but Noah wasn’t sure if that was going to stop them.

“And speakin’ of the Devil,” Scoops huffed. “You. Boah. Why the Hell are you doing this?”

Jonas squinted towards Scoops, slowly opening his mouth, before the wheezing voice of the Crusher cut him off. “My nephew is doing this because-”

“I didn’t ask you, Shit-for-Brains,” Scoops interrupted without a care in the world. “I asked your nephew.”

Scoops turned towards Jonas properly, who raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t there when ole’ Crusher and I had our beef. You’re barely even starting out as a wrestler yourself. And yet here you are, gettin’ thrown into an old rivalry that you barely know anythin’ about. What does this actually mean to you?”

Jonas paused, Scoops’ words making him nod slightly. His eyes lingered on Scoops, about to say something before the impatient gaze of his uncle made him reconsider. He merely shrugged. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Well, I sure as fuck wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Scoops huffed. “You don’t strike me as a lackey since you went off to attack me on yer’ own. And yet here you are, dancin’ to the whim of some old fossil.”

Jonas’ lips curled into a smug smile, a breathy chuckle escaping him as he jabbed a finger in Scoops’ direction. “You, old man, are interesting. All I want is to face you, and-”

“Enough, Jonas!” the Crusher barked, silencing the conversation as he turned back to Scoops. “I won’t let you poison my nephew like you try to do to everyone else. He’s precious, do you hear me? PRECIOUS! A future world champion!”

“Well, he sure as fuck ain’t gonna be grabbin’ gold any time soon, listenin’ to a jackass like you,” Scoops smirked.

That did it. The Crusher’s jaw clenched together, fists clenching the sides of his wheelchair. He held onto them so tightly that Noah was sure he was about to break them off, and his knuckles turned into a ghastly white that made Noah swear he was looking at a corpse. A vein throbbed in his forehead, and he turned himself towards Jonas.

“Get him! Get him, NOW!”

“I thought you’d never ask…” Jonas murmured as he crossed the distance, his shadow looming behind him as he lunged for Scoops.

People in the audience shrieked, unsure of what was going on now. “Don’t touch him!”

Noah turned to look towards the crowd, realizing a fair amount of them had their phones out and recording the action, just as he was. “Hey, isn’t that my job…?”

Scoops didn’t miss a beat. His hand darted towards his pocket, a glimmer of silver quickly coming out in response. The switchblade twirled along his fingers, the sharp edge pointed right towards Jonas.

“Touch me, boah, and I’ll make sure I gut you like a fish,” Scoops warned.

A few of the audience members gasped in horror, but that wasn’t about to stop Jonas. He was about to grab Scoops right then and there-

“STOP!” the Crusher shrieked in horror. “I don’t need you getting stabbed by that- that maniac!”

A look of disgust crossed Jonas’ face as he looked behind him towards the Crusher. “Uncle, I can take him!”

The color drained from the Crusher’s face, now as pale as the stressed knuckles he had. He shook his head slightly, trying to stamp out that fire growing within his nephew. “Not like this, Jonas. Your next match is coming up, and I don’t want you to have to call it off because some psychopath decided to stab you-”

“Aw, look at that, boah,” Scoops scoffed. “It’s like he don’t even have a lick of faith in you right now. How’re you gonna lower yerself to takin’ orders from that little scumbag?”

“Don’t listen to him!” the Crusher was pleading now. “You have a future! A bright future! Don’t throw it away!”

Jonas looked back at his uncle, before turning towards Scoops. The switchblade in his hands was an ominous warning, one that made him frown. Finally, he took a deep breath.

“The truth is,” Jonas explained, “I don’t care about some old rivalry or family business. I just want to face you, old man. Even in spite of how old you are, this little last run of yours has been making waves. I’ve seen you, main eventing shows, and pay-per-views. I’ve seen you fighting for the grandest titles this industry has to offer. But at your age, all it takes is one person to knock you hard enough off of your pedestal for you to come crashing down to earth, and for your career to be over.”

Jonas grinned, jabbing a thumb into his own chest. “I want to prove myself. Because if I’m the one that takes you out of commission, for your own cameraman to see and record, then the brass at the XWF will have no choice but to come crawling to me. Those Trillionaires that want you squashed like a gnat will reward me with a contract, and title shots, and anything I could ever want. I can get to face the best and prove I’m the best while I do it. I don’t care about taking the long road to the top, I just want to enjoy living at the peak where I belong. And if it means that I have to kill a geriatric like you to get it?”

“So be it.”

“So, that’s all it really comes down to, huh?” Scoops mused aloud. “I actually respect you a helluva lot more now that you got that off yer’ chest. ‘Course, I dunno if yer’ uncle there can say the same…”

The Crusher was beside himself, his pale, sickly visage replaced with a crimson fury that wouldn’t look out of place next to a pile of tomatoes. He banged his fist against his wheelchair, demanding the attention all for himself. “Jonas… this is not what we talked about, you-”

“I hate to be the one to break this up…” Noah lied as easily as he breathed, “but if you look to your left right about now…”

All three men jerked their heads in unison, and sure enough, they saw a pair of policemen walking down the street. An elderly woman led the way for them, ranting and raving about “Some gang war breaking out on the streets, and I saw knives being flashed…”

“Of course…” the Crusher murmured in disgust. “Jonas. We’re out of here. We will have words about this, I assure you.”

Scoops and Jonas stared at each other for a long moment, time perilously ticking away between the two of them.

“W-We should get out of here too,” Noah agreed. “Last time you got thrown in jail, you nearly missed War Games, and I’m not really eager for a repeat performance of you breaking out of a holding cell…”

Scoops took a long exhale, nodding as he put his switchblade away. He nodded towards Jonas one last time. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d take you on, but I do have business first. While I take care of that, you oughta take a long look in the mirror and find out how you wanna handle yer’ own life.”

Scoops quickly turned on his heel, ushering Noah away as the two pairs went in opposite directions, the thoughtful expression on Jonas’ face not lost to him. They only had a brief period of time before the police would catch up to them, and they didn’t intend to waste it.

“I shouldn’t have been surprised that jackass still had it out for me,” Scoops frowned. “I’m lucky that shit got broken up when it did, because I don’t wanna think about what either of us were about to do.”

“Did you mean all of that?” Noah asked. “About the… y’know… trying to get through to that Jonas guy?”

“Truth be told,” Scoops admitted with a shrug, “Half of that was just to try and drive a wedge between the two, which I’d say worked. But I wasn’t really lying to him, either. He’s young, built like a bull. If he put his mind to it, he’d go far. But I know the Crusher. He’s a little fuckin’ snake that worms his way into your ear and has you followin’ his every word. He complains a lot more nowadays than back then when he’d work through force, but it’s just as effective. I wouldn’t want anyone to be stuck listenin’ to him for long, even if it’s his own flesh and blood.”

“Do you think he’ll come around?”

“He might. Might not. Either way, I figure he’ll be gunnin’ for me. The sooner I get out of this city, the better. I just hope…” Scoops’ voice trailed off, eyes drifting towards the ground as the pair continued to walk. “I just hope I can make it right with my son. That’s what I care about right now.”

Noah was silent for a moment, weighing his words carefully. “I can’t say I know what that’s like. I’d… like to think I’m mostly on good terms with my parents, even if they’re not supportive of all of what I’m doing right now. But I think if you at least show you’re making an effort, and try your best, well… it should work out?”

Scoops chuckled. Noah could tell that the uncertain tone he had made it hard for Scoops to really believe him, but the small smile that grew along his face didn’t fade in spite of that. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

As the pair came to a corner, Scoops waved for a nearby taxi, letting them come inside and get far away from both the Crusher and the police.

“Where to?”

“Take us to the Mariott up north? The one near Lake Zurich?”

“You mean the Lincolnshire joint?” the driver questioned with his raspy voice. “Yeah, I got you both. Hold tight.”

Both Scoops and Noah reclined in their seats, finally able to take a deep breath away from the action that they were caught up in. It didn’t last for long as a look of realization crossed Scoops’ face.

“You said yer’ parents didn’t approve of being a cameraman?”

“Oh! Uh…” Noah nervously coughed, clearly caught off guard by the question. “I mean… yeah. I didn’t really talk much about it before because it wasn’t relevant, but… they were always a little skeptical about wanting to get into the wrestling business, even if it just was for production. You know how it is… lots of travel, hard to settle down. And I don’t think they were crazy about it when they learned I was going to be shadowing you.”

Noah expected an outraged tirade from Scoops, but to his surprise, he simply nodded in agreement. “Well, I try my best, but I ain’t exactly a role model. If you were my kid, I’d probably want you paired up with someone who ain’t as insane as I am.”

Noah almost snorted in response. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, you know…”

“I know what I’m good at, and what I’m not so good at,” Scoops quickly countered, “and I think we agree I’m not so good at holdin’ down a stable life. Tryin’ to… y’know… change that, but…”

“Right…” Noah nodded, his voice trailing off as a beat of awkward silence passed in the taxi.

“How’s the whole interviewer shtick comin’ along?” Scoops asked. “You still wanted to do that?”

“Wuh- oh! Of course I do! I’ve been trying to watch a lot of old school interviews to get myself into the right mindset for that sort of thing, but it’s… a little much to get used to, you know? Half the time, I think I’m a little wooden for that sort of thing.”

“It ain’t that bad,” Scoops quickly chimed in. “Yer’ the one who ain’t givin’ yerself enough credit now. Here, tell you what, we’ll do somethin’ different for once. Interview me right now.”

“Right now?!”

“Fuck yeah, right now, boah!” Scoops repeated, mildly offended at the hesitation. “C’mon. Gimme yer’ best Steve Sayors impression, because last I checked, I got a title match comin’ up, and that’s the prime material for this sort of thing.”

A beat passed as Noah could barely hold back a snicker. “Yeah… uh… I doubt even Steve Sayors would know what a good impression of him would be with how much he bounces around.”

That got an actual smile out of Scoops as he rolled his eyes. “Figure of speech, boah. Just go with the flow here.”

“If you say so,” Noah exhaled, his body tensing as he straightened himself. “Right… okay, Scoops. You just came off a hard-fought loss for the Universal title. Lots of people are giving you credit, but they also wanna know how you’re feeling right now about it.”

“Well, I ain’t exactly chipper about it,” Scoops frowned. “But you know somethin’, life goes on. I might not have a lot of time left in this business, but I got closer than I ever did before. Closer than a lot of people can say they’d ever get to. That ain’t enough for me, but if I gotta take a little bit to build myself back up again before I go challenging Kiki again, then so be it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Noah agreed with a small smile. He just had to keep easing himself into this… “Well, you’ll have a chance to get started on building yourself back up when you face off against Centurion in the main event of the next Warfare for the Television title. What are your thoughts on such a respected veteran of the business?”

A long pause passed, Scoops taking a deep breath to collect himself, his head nodding back and forth. Finally, he glanced back towards Noah. “You remember what happened back in October, boah? When I came back? No? Well, I’ll bring you and the viewers back up to speed.”

“I remember gettin’ ready to throw down with SEB, making my way down to the ring, when this little smug bastard who just won the Xtreme title tried starting some beef with me. We got into it, the two of us exchanging some words, but we got separated before anything came of it. He had his focus right on me for no real reason, though. And you know somethin’? That crippling pride came back to bite him, because shortly after, he lost the Xtreme title.”

“That bastard who tried starting shit with me was Centurion.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a grudge against him.”

“Grudge is too strong a word for me,” Scoops shrugged. “I just got a good memory. But for Cent? The guy who wanted to come after me and got knocked off his block before he could do so? I bet that fuckin’ stung for him. He’s gonna be lookin’ at this match like a redemption of sorts. The match he should’ve got, but was never given. He’s gonna be fightin’ me with a chip on his shoulder, to prove he belongs here. For me? This is a chance to get myself right back on track, and I ain’t givin’ that up so easily.”

“Well, the two of you are equally outspoken towards the Trillionaires running the XWF right now. Would you say there’s some mutual respect between the two of you in regards to that?”

“See, boah, I’m glad you brought that up.” Scoops leaned forward, his face darkening. “I do have some respect for Centy. You get past me, he’s the most seasoned guy in this company. ‘Fear the old in a profession where you die young.’ That sorta thing. But he puts up this… front. He goes on about how he hates the company, hates those in power, hates the people in the government. But what’s he actually done about any of that?”

Another beat of awkward silence passed in the car. “Uh…”

“Nothin’,” Scoops quickly cut Noah off as he continued. “Fuck all. Truth of the matter is, I think he’s a coward. He talks tough, he wants to be tough. But talk is cheap, and actions mean more. The Trillionaires tried to recruit me two times now, both times I spat in their face and told them to piss off. They tried to put me and my team behind bars to miss War Games, we put that shitty little plan right on its head before I captained the team to win the damn show. The only reason I took their little offer was because Dickie begged me to, and even then, I did it so I could try to stop both Charlie and Kiki’s schemes.”

“Matter of fact, while we’re on the topic, how about we go over Cent’s track record? Has he… said anythin’ about Charlie getting this company to recruit a fuckin’ serial killer of all people?”

“Uh… no.”

“Or how he’s tried to game the system by freebirding a singles title around?”

“…No.”

“Or how about the fact that we finally got a union for wrestlers, a lifelong achievement, only for Kieran King to ruin it all and make it all about himself?”

“He… hasn’t…”

“That’s exactly what I mean!” Scoops exclaimed. “Cent gives an image like he’s this sort of rebellious saint, but when this entire company is getting burned to the ground by selfishness and greed, he just sits on his high horse and talks up a storm and does NOTHIN’!”

“Goin’ on about Amber Mansley being the Trillionaires’ chosen one? Boah, they had their own corporate group before they went rogue! They tried to put her behind bars! Wants to go on about how they gift-wrapped her a free road to the finals, motherfucker, they gave YOU the same opportunity! And when you won, they changed around the Warfare card to let you bring yer’ little fuckin’ knock-off Universal title design with a big red sticker on it instead of the actual TV title!”

“Who fuckin’ does that shit?! The Trillionaires give literal negative fucks about Centy’s words to the point that they’ll REWARD him! And half the time he’s gonna be too busy rantin’ and ravin’ about Donald Trump, a guy who ain’t even in this company, instead!”

“Harsh words,” Noah nodded. “But do you have anything else to say to him and to the fans before your match?”

Scoops exhaled, nodding. “Centy, nowadays these people need somethin’ to believe in. The Universal title’s in the hands of some fuckin’ greedy goblin. Charlie’s getting his sad sack of fucks together under a new banner. People are comin’ out, left and right, trying to take a shit all over this company. If you really want to try and make a difference out there, then prove it.”

“Fight me. Man-to-man. No excuses. We got 15 minutes to tell our story out there, to find out who deserves to hold that belt more. I want them to get out of their seats, and realize that right now, even when this company is in some of its worst times, that there’s a bright spot for them to enjoy. I want them to talk about this match for a long time. I want us to fight on the same side after all this is said and done.”

“You just gotta show me how much bein’ a real rebel means to you.”

“We’re here,” the taxi driver exhaled, relieved that he’s managed to escape the last of the ranting.

Scoops slid over the payment, and the taxi soon sped off, leaving both him and Noah in front of the Marriott. A spike of tension made its way through Scoops, and he didn’t want to let himself move forward.

“Hey,” Noah frowned. “What’s wrong? Why’d we choose here for a hotel, anyway?”

“Because…” Scoops raised his hand, pointing towards a nearby announcement bulletin that had a certain message attached to it.

Friday Feb 20th - Sunday Feb 22nd
Lincolnshire Marriott Welcomes
Vitality Research Partners
For Their Yearly Clinical Presentation

“…that’s where my son is going to be.”

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