Syren vs. Clyde Sutter - Printable Version +- Supreme Championship Wrestling (https://www.supremecw.com/forums) +-- Forum: SCW Archives (https://www.supremecw.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=17) +--- Forum: Breakdown (https://www.supremecw.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=18) +---- Forum: 2025 (https://www.supremecw.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=319) +----- Forum: Breakdown || May 22, 2025 (https://www.supremecw.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=335) +----- Thread: Syren vs. Clyde Sutter (/showthread.php?tid=4405)

Syren vs. Clyde Sutter - Konrad Raab - 05-17-2025 2 RP Limit for singles 3500 Word Limit Per RP Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Wednesday, May 21, 2025 RE: Syren vs. Clyde Sutter - The Assassin - 05-19-2025 1 of 2 ====== ========== May 17th, 2025 Southampton, England Off Camera ========== This past Breakdown The Assassin decided that Fate had waited long enough for an answer from the woman who could potentially one day be his mother-in-law, “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. Clyde Sutter struck out and attacked Syren this past Breakdown. He and Glory’s daughter, Clyde’s girlfriend Melinda Braddock, had been trying to convince Glory to let them go after Syren, to convince her to let them take care of this problem for her. But thus far Glory Braddock has been unwilling to let The Assassin do what he does best. She has been unwilling to accept this offer of assistance. The British Bombshell, instead, wants to believe that is above taking shortcuts like that. Nevertheless, Clyde Sutter does not have to wait for Braddock to make up her mind. He does not have to wait for her to give him permission to target Syren. The Assassin answers to only one authority and that authority is Fate. Fate has told Sutter that Syren’s time is up. Fate told Sutter that it was time to take her out for good and Breakdown was just the first step. The second step in fulfilling Fate’s will regarding Syren comes one week later when The Assassin will get his hands on Syren one on one in Atlanta, Georgia. It isn’t just about doing the will of Fate for The Assassin. For a long time his relationship with Glory Braddock has been rough to say the very least. He knows Glory does not fully trust him, which makes it very awkward considering the fact that he is dating her daughter. Clyde does want to have a good, positive relationship with his girlfriend’s mother. Whatever went wrong between the two of them, he wants to mend fences and make things right. He wants to prove to Glory that he can be beneficial to her and what better way, in his own twisted mind, to do that than to take out someone like Syren whom Glory utterly despises? The British Bombshell may not appreciate him now but she will one day thank him for what he is about to do to Syren. She will thank Sutter for choking the life out of Syren in front thousands of fans in attendance on Breakdown. The moon hung low over Southampton, filtered through a gauzy veil of drifting clouds. It cast a silvery glow over the expansive lawn that unrolled like velvet before the mansion. The house itself was a towering edifice of affluence and old money, perched at the far end of the estate like a sleeping giant. Its pale limestone façade was softened by climbing ivy and flanked by columns that caught the moonlight in clean, cold lines. The windows, tall and arched, gleamed like empty eyes in the dark, giving no indication of life within. From the wrought-iron gates to the circular gravel drive lined with neatly trimmed yew hedges, every inch of the property radiated cultivated perfection. A small marble fountain gurgled quietly in the center of the drive, water trickling over the stone lips of cherubic figures frozen in a dance of eternal play. The whole place smelled of wet earth and freshly cut grass, a deceptively innocent fragrance that belied the tension tightening the muscles of the two figures crouched low in the shadows. Clyde Sutter moved like a predator, a tall, broad-shouldered shadow with the grace of a dancer and the silence of a ghost. His long black hair was tied back in a loose leather band, but wisps had escaped, brushing against his jawline as he scanned the estate with eyes that flicked from point to point. He wore black from head to toe: a soft tactical jacket that clung to his form, cargo pants with deep pockets that didn’t rustle, and lightweight boots that left barely a mark in the damp grass. Joey, smaller and wirier, moved with the quick, twitchy energy of a cat that didn’t want to be outside. He was dressed similarly, though his gear looked borrowed—slightly too big in some places, too snug in others. He muttered under his breath with every crouch and dash, cursing the cold, the dew, the goddamned rich who built their houses like fortresses in the middle of sprawling fields. His face was narrow, drawn tight with nerves, eyes darting up at the windows as though expecting an old man in a robe to suddenly appear with a double-barrelled shotgun. They crept forward, using the hedge line as cover, each movement slow and calculated. Sutter would pause every few steps, one hand held up, index and middle fingers extended in a silent signal that Joey had learned to read through gritted teeth. Stop. Listen. Move. “I still think this is a bad idea,” Joey whispered hoarsely, breath puffing into the cold air like smoke. His voice was barely audible, but the edge of panic made it sharp. “You know what kind of place this is. People like this don’t forget. They don’t forgive.” “Quiet,” he murmured. Sutter didn’t look at him, just kept moving, as if the house itself were a living thing and he was trying not to wake it. “I need you for this, Joseph.” “Joey!” “Whatever. I need backup and you’re it.” “Right. Because I’m gonna be such great help.” Joey snorted under his breath. Sutter glanced back then, just for a moment, and Joey shut up. There was something in Sutter’s eyes; something calm, but not comforting. It was the calm of someone who had accepted what needed to be done long before anyone else even saw the danger. That look had carried them through worse situations than this. The two of them reached the edge of the great lawn. Beyond them, the house loomed larger than ever; three stories high, with a central tower that cast a crooked shadow across the roof like a sundial pointing toward midnight. The front doors, painted a rich burgundy and polished to a mirror shine. They moved again, this time crossing a shallow garden filled with spring blooms: hyacinths, tulips, and white lilies that gleamed like bone in the moonlight. The air was heavy with their scent. Somewhere far off, a fox barked into the night. Joey flinched. Sutter didn’t even blink. “I hate that you dragged me out here…” Joey whispers. “We used to raise hell all over the streets of Birmingham.” Clyde states pointedly. “Why are you suddenly weak in the knees?” “It aint like that!” Joey insists. “I have no problem raising hell every now and then but this is dangerous! Besides, I am just an informant. I got you the information you needed. What can I help you with?” “I told you.” Sutter repeats. “I need backup.” “Correct me if I’m wrong, Clyde, but isn’t this your sister’s place you’re wanting to break into?” Joey asks. “Why the hell do you need backup against your sister?!” “My sister is not to be underestimated.” Clyde says quietly, stoically, but in a grave tone that seemed to indicate a hint of warning for Joey that does nothing to help his demeanor. “So your sister is dangerous…” Joey sighs “look, I get it, you and I go way back, we’ve had our own fair share of schemes during our childhood. But in our relationship, you were the enforcer. You were the muscle. Me?” Joey smirks knowingly. “I was just simply the brains.” “What are you saying?” Sutter asks threateningly. “Oh I don’t mean to imply you’re not smart. It’s just that…” Joey smiles sheepishly “...I’m not a fighter. I don’t think I can help if we ran into trouble.” “Shut up and follow me.” The Assassin remarks coldly as he approaches the front door. Joey’s eyes grow wide. He is stunned that his friend is going for the front door. Despite this, Joey quickly scrambles to catch up. “Are you crazy?!” “What’s wrong?” Clyde smirks, showing some emotion for the first time on this trip. “I thought this was just…my sister?” “Yes but…” Joey shakes his head “...the way you talk about her, she seems dangerous.” “I’ll protect you.” “I don’t find that comforting, dude.” “Trust me, you are safe.” He motions with his arms to the right and left. “Look around you, Joseph. Isn’t it odd that someone like my sister…as wealthy as she is, with her own criminal connections…that she doesn’t have some form of security presence on her property?” “Uh…well yeah…” “And do you not find that this property seems to be too…quiet? Too empty?” “I suppose.” Joey shrugs his shoulders. “Trust me. We’re fine.” He reaches for the door knob. He half-expects the door to be locked. Surely Lilith Sutter would at least lock her property up. Yet, even this minor security is seemingly ignored. This fact does bother The Assassin a little but he doesn’t let it show. The last thing he needs is for Joey to freak out any more than he already is. “I don’t think we should go inside.” Joey says. “I don’t wanna get busted for breaking and entering.” “Shut up!” Clyde exclaims. “This isn’t breaking and entering…this is my sister’s home. I am family.” The Assassin crosses the threshold into the home. Joey reluctantly follows him inside. They find that the inside is even more exquisite and luxurious than the outside. Lilith Sutter’s wealth is indeed astounding to look at. Sutter seems to be more determined than ever. Joey, on the other hand, is still very nervous. “So, uh, what now?” “Split up and search the house.” Clyde remarks in a matter-of-fact tone. Joey looks on curiously. “Search for what?” He shrugs his shoulders. “I still have no clue why you drug me out here for.” “I told you, I need backup.” Sutter remarks. “Your word for backing me up is you get to have whatever you find in this home.” “Wait…” He furrows his brow out of confusion “...you want me to steal from your sister?” “I don’t give a damn about her.” Sutter says with venom in his voice. “She is very wealthy and has very priceless items in her possession. Consider this your reward, Joseph.” “Great!” Joey seems to finally be at ease. The idea of making some quick cash off of a heist does intrigue this common criminal. “What about you? You gonna rob her blind too? Is this what this is about?” “No…” Sutter chuckles “...it’s funny, Joseph, you said in all of our past schemes that YOU were the brains and I was but merely the muscle. Yet you cannot see the bigger picture here. You only see materialistic wealth.” “So if you’re not here for money, what are you here for?” “None of your business.” Sutter growls angrily. “Just go claim your reward and be on your way.” “Ye…yes sir.” Joey quickly turns and walks away, deeper into the house. The Assassin is partly glad that he is gone. He no longer has to put up with Joey’s nonsense. Now he can focus on the real task at hand which is to find his sister. Ever since he learned about Lilith’s involvement in the shooting death of Archie Van Stanton, Clyde’s half-brother, Clyde has been desperate to track her down and get revenge, not just for Archie’s sake but for Melinda’s sake. Melinda may be Clyde’s girlfriend now but she was Archie’s fiance at the time of the shooting and she got caught in the crossfire. Revenge, however, has proven elusive as The Assassin has been unable to find his sister. This in and of itself is a rather odd circumstance. Lilith, at one point, was making her presence felt in Clyde’s life frequently. At one point, Lilith wanted Clyde to find her, to talk to her. Lilith wanted Clyde to join her in her criminal empire. Now, the one time Sutter actually wants to find his sister, she is nowhere to be found. This is why he is here tonight. He has taken the initiative. He is here on her turf hoping to find her. Unfortunately, as empty as this place seems to be, he may have just missed her. Nevertheless, he is going to try and that search brings him down the hall and into the first open room he sees; he enters and he finds that it is a bedroom. The bedroom was expansive, almost too large for comfort, with high ceilings from which hung an elaborate chandelier, its crystals dulled by dust and time. The bed itself was a four-poster affair, draped in silk sheets the color of oxblood, the headboard carved from what looked like rosewood. Nothing was out of place, no shoes kicked aside, no clutter, no signs of life. Yet the room felt inhabited, somehow. As if its owner had only just stepped out to fetch something from another wing. As luxurious as this is, Clyde surmises that this is his sister’s room. Sutter’s eyes scanned the space with methodical intent. He moved toward the writing desk first; an elaborate piece of craftsmanship with gilded inlay and leather trim. The drawers slid open without protest. Inside: a selection of embossed stationery, an ivory fountain pen in its case, and a small black notebook sealed shut with a red ribbon. He examined the notebook briefly, fingers brushing the ribbon but not untying it. Not yet. He moved on. To the armoire next; eight feet tall and smelling faintly of cedar. It opened to reveal row after row of precisely hung clothing. Evening gowns. Cashmere robes. Crisp shirts arranged by color. Beneath them, a pair of antique leather suitcases and a lockbox. Sutter crouched, opened the smaller case. Jewelry, expensive but impersonal. The kind of cold, inherited wealth that sat heavy around a throat but meant nothing to the wearer. “Are we looking for something specific or just casing the place?” This whisper startles Sutter. He turns to find Joey is there. “What the hell are you doing here?!” He demands. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “I was just curious.” “Don’t be curious. It’s hazardous to your health.” He crossed the room to a bookshelf built into the wall, dark mahogany filled with tomes bound in leather and vellum. Some were first editions—rare volumes that would make any collector weep. But tucked between two thick law books, almost deliberately hidden, was a small folder of loose pages bound with a paperclip. Sutter slid it out, flipped through the contents. Then, tucked behind the final sheet, he found it; a note. A single piece of thick cream stationery, folded in half. His name was written across the front in slanted black ink: Clyde. “I knew you would find out eventually, dear brother. I was hoping it wouldn’t be this soon and I had hoped you would find out from me and not from someone else. Yes, I found out about your friend nosing around in my business and knew that it would not be long until you learned of my involvement in the death of Archie Van Stanton. Believe me, dear brother, I was going to tell you all about it, but I planned to wait until you were ready. The fact is that you are not ready. You are still blinded by emotion and that emotion will only lead you to losing control. You found this letter because you wanted to find me and, no doubt, kill me in retribution for the Van Stanton kid and that whore of a girlfriend of yours. I have no desire to die today so I have taken a leave of absence. But I am not done with you. I will return when you are calm and ready to talk.” Sutter wads up the letter and tosses it to the floor. He emits a low growl under his breath. Joey is still thoroughly confused. “What was that?” “You idiot!” Sutter grabs Joey by the throat and slams him against a wall. “What?! What’d I do?!” “You were lazy! You were reckless!” Clyde snaps angrily. “Lilith knew what you were doing and she left town!” “Hey, man, I did my best!” “You are a fool…” he reluctantly lets go of Joey “...this entire trip you have been whining and complaining about your safety. Now your safety is truly in jeopardy and even I cannot help you. My sister knows of your existence and that you helped me. You have made yourself a target.” “Wait…what?!” “You are a bloody fool.” Clyde shakes his head. “It would be advisable if you lay low for the foreseeable future and pray that my sister does not find you.” “What about you?” Joey asks. “What are you going to do now?” “I WAS going to kill my sister. Right here, tonight, I had planned to end her.” He shakes her head. “Now she’s still on the loose and is still a threat. But I am not without a pathway to justice. I can still get justice for my half-brother and for my beloved.” Sutter bends down and picks up the wadded up piece of paper. “That letter…” Joey begins, pointing to it. Clyde nods his head. “Yes. It is my sister’s confession.” He smirks. “Tonight was not a total loss. At least now I have some leverage over her.” RE: Syren vs. Clyde Sutter - Syren - 05-20-2025 So, I thought of this idea, and I giggled for way too long about it. Finished it earlier and ALMOST forgot to post it. Enjoy. The Syren Song: Verse 395 "She thinks she’s enlightened" RE: Syren vs. Clyde Sutter - The Assassin - 05-21-2025 2 of 2 ====== ========== May 21st, 2025 Atlanta, Georgia On Camera ========== We open in a dramatic and stylized scene with an atmosphere that is intense, dominated by deep red lighting and a smoky background that evokes a sense of menace and theatricality. The setting is industrial; dimly lit with visible outlines of equipment and storage racks, enhancing the gritty, confrontational mood. In the foreground stand two striking figures: Clyde Sutter and Melinda Braddock. Clyde, positioned slightly in front, exudes a commanding presence. He wears a black leather jacket with red accents on the sleeve, paired with an open white shirt that adds a casual yet defiant touch to his rugged appearance. His facial expression is intense and focused, with narrowed eyes glaring forward. His long dark hair is neatly styled, and his stubble enhances his hardened look. Standing close beside him is Melinda Braddock, whose look complements Clyde’s intensity with a seductive and assertive elegance. She wears a sheer black long-sleeved top paired with a leather corset-style bodice, creating a gothic yet fierce ensemble. A large pendant necklace hangs around her neck, contributing to her air of mystery and authority. Her long blonde hair falls in voluminous curls past her shoulders, and her makeup accentuates her piercing stare. Melinda’s posture is confident, with one hand resting gently on Clyde’s arm, a gesture that signifies solidarity and strategic partnership. “I am sure the question on everyone’s mind is a simple one; why did I kick Syren in the head on Breakdown?” The Assassin smirks. “Most are probably under the assumption that I am doing this for the Cowgirls from Hell. Or perhaps for my beloved’s mother, Glory Braddock, who also has a clear disdain for the fraud who calls herself the best wrestler. Or maybe William Heaven orchestrated this for some unknown reason? I have taken his money before, after all. I am Fate’s chosen Assassin and yes, I am at times a paid mercenary, but to assume that my problem with Syren has anything to do with money would be very two-dimensional thinking. Too simple for someone like myself. The fact that anyone assumes that I have a problem with Syren at all is very simplistic thinking.” He chuckles. “Then again, no one ever accused the SCW fanbase of being able to produce a complex thought. Nothing in this business is ever simplistic, especially not when it comes to someone like myself and Syren. We both, in our own unique ways, are complicated and complex individuals. Nothing with us is ever black and white. You cannot paint either of us in the simplistic shade of hero or villain, good or evil, because the universe does not operate like that. Fate does not operate like that.” The Assassin turns and gazes lovingly at his beautiful girlfriend, the devious “Third Generation Goddess” Melinda Braddock. “Heroes and villains, good and evil, just like the yin and the yang and light and the dark, all of it is false.” Melinda says boldly and defiantly with a low chuckle. “The fact is that everything is a shade of gray. The fans of Supreme Championship Wrestling boo Clyde and why? What wrong has he done? He went after the Adrenaline Title. He went after the Television Title. He took money from William Heaven to take out Adam Brock.” She smirks. “That last one was entirely Adam’s fault. He should never have involved himself in someone else’s business. So again, I ask, what exactly has Clyde done that is wrong? What has he done that has made him the villain of YOUR story?” Braddock shakes her head. “Fate is neither good nor evil. It is neither black nor white. It is neither yin nor yang. Fate just is. Fate is fair because it is not a respecter of persons nor is it in awe of a particular individual’s successes and achievements. Fate dictates us all and its ways are not our ways. Its ways are mysterious. Which is perhaps why so many here in this company are so opposed to the concept of Fate? They cannot fathom the idea that maybe, just maybe, Fate no longer favors them, that Fate no longer supports them. They cannot accept the idea that Fate has dictated that their time is over. They want to keep reaching up for one more brass ring when Fate continues to keep it just out of reach.” Braddock pats Sutter on his back. She leans her head up against his chest. “Clyde is no villain. He merely enforces the will of Fate. He is Fate’s chosen Assassin and there are oh so many people in Supreme Championship Wrestling who need to be reminded, violently if necessary, that they are not in control of their destiny. Fate is in control.” The Assassin nods his head, smirking rather smugly and confidently. He wraps his arm around Melinda gently. “Just in case you are unable to connect the dots, my beloved is speaking specifically about you, Syren. “ He menacingly motions towards the camera with his right index finger. “I am always willing to give credit where it is due and your past, your history here in SCW, is quite legendary indeed. Seven times you have been a world champion in this promotion, more than anyone else before you, more times than even Ms. Frost whose favorite activity nowadays has been to tell anyone willing to listen to her insane prattling about how great she is. You are one half of arguably one half of the greatest tag team in SCW history…Dark Fantasy. It can truly be said that, for a very long time, Fate was truly smiling upon you. Fate gifted you with so much success. Fate made you arguably one of the best wrestlers in SCW history and you very well could have remained at the top of this business to this very day.” The Assassin shakes his head. “But Fate is no longer smiling upon you. Fate no longer is on your side. And you only have yourself to blame. Your problem, Syren, is that you began to believe in your own hype. You believed that you and you alone were responsible for your success in SCW and you refused to credit Fate for the success that you have been gifted. It is only natural, then, that Fate would make you suffer. It is only to be expected that Fate would take the necessary steps to humble you.” The Assassin chuckles. “Ah how the mighty have fallen. Your last run with the SCW World Championship was back in 2019 and you needed a multi-layered criminal frameup of Kennedy Street and multiple layers of protection from lackeys including our very own current COO Mr. Desoubrais.” “So a guy involved in conspiracy is given the reigns of power in SCW? We’re supposed to believe CHBK has the ethics and morality to run this company?” Melinda Braddock snickers. “What has happened since that seventh world title reign, Syren?” Clyde asks with a knowing, menacing grin on his face. “For the longest of times you have found it increasingly difficult to obtain a win. It has nothing to do with your lack of talent or the increase of talent in SCW. It has everything to do with Fate no longer supporting you. Your downward spiral went so far as to you losing a match to Xander Valentine that would keep you out of the SCW World Title picture until you could win ten matches in a row. You so arrogantly and smugly agreed to that stipulation, confident that you could win ten in a row. I wonder what happened to that stipulation?” He looks over at Melinda. “My love, do you know what happened to that ten win stipulation?” “I think that CHBK conveniently forgot about that.” She shakes her head. “But no one as morally upstanding as Desoubrais would pull shady tactics to help his old friend Syren.” “Of course not.” Sutter shakes his head, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Unfortunately even Mr. Desoubrais could save you from your downward spiral, Syren. What was the last major championship you won, Syren? It was the Adrenaline Title and you only won it because of Kimberly Williams and her chaotic trios cash in. And lately you have been on a losing streak. You lost to Derek Adonis. Dante Slayton. Selena Frost. There is no shame in losing to Ms. Frost. But Mr. Slayton is new to SCW, quite a shame for someone like you to fall to him, don’t you think? But worst of all is you lost to Derek Adonis. You lost to an obese sexual innuendo.” “KABLAM!” Melinda exclaims with laughter. “Look at what Fate has done to you, Syren. What was once the tyrant who ruled SCW with an iron fist, surrounded by an army of good, willing soldiers, is now a faltering failure surrounded by an irrelevant relic of the past named Ravyn and a doofus clown who is only with this company for two reasons…because she provides comic relief and because she is Mr. Desoubrais’s blood relative. Believe me, Syren, if Mr. Desoubrais was not COO, your friend Ms. Chapel would have been fired long ago. That is the extent of your fall, Syren. You were once the one to beat and now you are struggling to stay relevant. Had it not been for Mr. Desoubrais giving you a helping hand that you did not deserve, you would never have even shared the same ring as Ms. Frost or Ms. Braddock at Rebirth. Face facts, you are no longer a main event superstar. You are mid at best and that is because Fate has willed it. You want to change your Fate, you want a return to your glory days, I can see that the passion and drive are still there but if you believe that you can fight Fate then you are fighting a losing battle.” The Assassin sighs and shakes his head. “Each year since your fall from grace in 2019, each year when Taking Hold of the Flame rolls around you make the same dull, boring proclamation; that Taking Hold of the Flame will be your path back to the top, back to the world championship picture. It is becoming quite the broken record, to be perfectly honest. Once or twice declaring arrogantly and smugly that you will win Taking Hold of the Flame and go on to regain the SCW World Championship, that is acceptable. But year after year since 2019 of making those bold declarations and failing year after year makes you become little more than Chicken Little running around shouting that the sky is falling and just like Chicken Little, no one believes you anymore. No one views you as a threat anymore. People who ordinarily might have stood in awe of your presence are now stepping up and punching you in the face.” “You aren’t exactly popular anymore, are you Syren?” Melinda asks with a smug, arrogant grin. “Everyone from across the spectrum of the man-made ‘good versus evil’ line hate you. Selena Frost, the most hated person in SCW right now…hates you. My mother, still beloved by the fans despite her own rather controversial announcement…hates you. Kimberly Williams, one of the most fan favorite stars in SCW…hates you. The Cowgirls from Hell…well needless to say, they want your head on a platter. Now my man, Clyde, he is willing to do a job for anyone for the right amount of money, but no one has paid him to do you in, Syren. This particular job on Breakdown tomorrow night is pro-bono, it’s for free as his gift to each and every member of the SCW roster because no one wants you here anymore.” “Ms. Frost, the Fall of Man, and others are hated but the fans still pay to come and see them. You, Syren, most people just want you to go away. But most importantly FATE wants you to go away.” Sutter sneers. “And as Fate’s chosen Assassin it is my duty, my obligation, to make sure that Fate’s will is done. You arrogantly refused to credit Fate for much of your success and so Fate made you fall from grace. You continue in your arrogance and now Fate has dictated that your time is over. You will NEVER be a World Champion again, Syren, because your Fate is sealed. Fate assured it when you were placed against me on Breakdown tomorrow night in Atlanta. As good as you are, you will be forced to face the undeniable truth that your glory days are over. Tomorrow night you meet your end when I break you in half.” RE: Syren vs. Clyde Sutter - Syren - 05-21-2025 This was fun. Enjoy. The Syren Song: Verse 396 "All the kings horses and all the kings men"