Taking Hold of the Flame 2025

[supremecw]

The 40 person Taking Hold of the Flame match

Winner will receive a World Championship opportunity at Rise to Greatness XXII.

2 RP Limit
Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Saturday, May 31, 2025

**For those characters who are double-booked, they can use their roleplays for other matches for this match. Please, however, repost your roleplay in this thread.

[Asher_Hayes]

OOC: Let's get the party started.

In The Business of Misery, Chapter One

[The Matt]

1 of 2
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May 17th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The living room of the household shared by the Queen of the Death Match Kimberly Williams and her boyfriend, former professional wrestler himself Tommy Wasley, sat nestled in a leafy corner of an upscale-but-not-quite-elite Boston neighborhood. The crown molding traced across the ceiling like an architectural boast, but a closer look revealed the faintest crack splitting one corner, an imperfection Kim had proudly chosen to ignore. Gleaming hardwood floors bore the soft scuff marks of boots, paws, and perhaps the occasional dropped mug. The walls, painted a dignified shade of colonial blue, were decorated with mismatched art: a minimalist black-and-white sketch of Fenway Park hung next to a garish canvas of a dragon playing poker. The result was not chaos, but character; a lived-in fusion of earnest taste and joyful absurdity. At the center of this modest domestic kingdom was the aging velvet-cushioned sofa, wide enough to accommodate a trio of misfits with room to spare. Upon its worn surface lounged Tommy, a bearded man with the look of someone who had either conquered his fair share of wrestling exploits with plenty of battle scars and bruises to prove it. Despite this, Tommy radiated quiet amusement. His husky beard framed a face equal parts rugged and endearing, and his flannel shirt, soft from years of wear, looked almost regal in the living room’s warm lighting. Cradled on his lap sat a stuffed penguin that bore his name; Wasley. Seated on Wasley’s birdhead was a small army soldier’s hat. Its black-button eyes stared forward with mute anticipation, as if it too understood the gravity of the moment. On the end table beside the sofa, elevated like an altar to absurd royalty, sat a small cage. Inside, amid a flurry of bedding fluff and a suspiciously chewed toilet paper roll, the hamster known as Caligula stood on his hind legs with twitching whiskers and unblinking eyes. He was a rotund, caramel-furred tyrant in miniature, his tiny pink paws gripping the wire bars like a prisoner.

The room was lit by a large window framed in dark red curtains that puddled just barely on the floor. Outside, the early afternoon light filtered through bare-limbed trees, casting long shadows that crawled across the coffee table and over a clutter of notebooks, empty mugs, and a decorative candle shaped like a hand grenade. It was the kind of controlled mess that suggested frequent creativity. And then there was Kimberly. The Woman Scorned did not sit. Kimberly Williams never simply sat when she could instead command space with motion. She paced in front of the sofa like a general inspecting her troops, dressed in full faux-military splendor: olive green combat fatigues, polished black boots, and a cap that tilted at a rakish angle. Gold stars glittered on her collar, though they were clearly hot-glued on, and one shoulder bore a patch of a penguin riding a missile. Her wild red hair burst from beneath her cap like flames escaping a chimney, and her expression was grave, serious in a theatrical, slightly deranged way. Every few steps, she turned on her heel with dramatic precision, pointing a finger as if about to deliver orders that might decide the fate of nations. The Queen of the Death Match circled the room like a hawk; or perhaps more accurately, like a child who had never truly grown up, who refuses to grow up because that’s just boring. Each pass by the sofa was a performance: a chin lift, a sharp exhale, a subtle glance toward Tommy to ensure he was playing his part. The hamster watched from his cage with twitchy anticipation; the penguin remained impassive. Tommy, eyes half-lidded and one arm draped over the back of the couch, looked perfectly at ease in this absurd theater of domestic war.

“Ok maggots listen up!” Kimberly growls with unbridled rage that suits her drill sergeant impersonation to a ‘T’. “There are those in this world who believe in diplomacy. There are those who believe that we should negotiate with the enemy. Do you know what I think of negotiators and diplomats?” She stops and glares down and the hamster. “WELL DO YOU?!”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t, babe.” Tommy says.

“Did I give you permission to talk, Private Tomcat?!”

“Uh…no?”

“Then silence!” Kim declares. She continues pacing around the sofa while Tommy watches on with amusement. “I call those who cry for diplomacy weak in the knees traitors! You cannot reason with a tiger when your head is in its mouth!”

“You’ve been watching Darkest Hour again, haven’t you?” Tommy asks.

“Damn right I have, Private Tomcat! Now shut your trap and listen up! That goes for all three of you because while the traitors have been clamoring for peace, the enemy has been growing strong and now the war has come to OUR doorstep! The enemy wants to take our freedoms! They already took our Daleks!

“Because Daleks are against HOA guidelines…” Tommy’s voice trails off.

“And who wrote the HOA guidelines, Private Tomcat?!” Kimberly angrily asks. Tommy shrugs his shoulders. “The enemy! The enemy will continue to take and take until there is nothing left! But I say no more! Someone has to stand up to this evil empire and that person shall be me…” she motions to Tommy, the penguin, and Caligula the hamster “...and all of you! We shall stand up to the evil empire and we shall win!”

“Babe, I’m really glad you’re into history and all of these war movies…”

“I’m gonna watch Apocalypse Now tomorrow!” She says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank God you didn’t watch that before you gave this speech.” Tommy smirks. “But, uh, I think you might be overreacting just a smidge in calling the Homeowner’s Association an empire, let alone an evil one.”

“Yes but Karen Lassiter is the HOA President and she IS evil!” Kim smirks.

“Yeah, I know, she offended you recently.” Tommy sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “But do you honestly have any idea how difficult it is to challenge a Homeowner’s Association? Do you have any idea how hard it is to take them on? They have contracts that we signed and agreements that we made when we signed those contracts. Karen is gonna have the courts on her side. If you push her buttons too much…”

“Of course The Evil Empire will have the corrupt legal system on its side! But have no fear, Private Tomcat!” Kim says happily. “I have a plan!”

Tommy chuckles quietly and makes room on the sofa. He motions for The Woman Scorned to join him. “Tell me all about it, babe.” Instantly, Williams walks over and sits down on the sofa next to Tommy. He wraps his arm around her lovingly. Kimberly is still grinning ear to ear, eager and excited about these supposed plans of hers to stop the so-called ‘evil empire’ of Karen Lassiter and the homeowner’s association.

“Well my first thought was to conjure that demon…”

“Demon?” Tommy’s eyes grow wide.

“You remember! The one that still owes me five dollars!”

“Oh right.” Tommy rolls his eyes. “Babe, have you considered the fact that demons aren’t real? Besides, if they are and…uh…if one does owe you five dollars…would you really trust that one to help you?”

“Ok good points, all of them!” Kimberly agrees. “I have other plans!” She points to the hamster. “Caligula here has connections to the seedy underworld of the Mormon Mafia. He can talk to them and they’ll take care of Karen…if you catch my drift…” she winks playfully. Tommy chuckles.

“Uh, babe, don’t forget that Caligula is just a hamster, he doesn’t actually talk, doesn’t have connections, and I am pretty sure there is no such thing as a Mormon Mafia.”

“Crap, you’re right.” Williams sighs. “Fine! I’ll kidnap her and replace her!”

“Nope.” Tommy shakes his head. “Won’t work.”

“Yes it will!” Kim says with frustration. “I kidnapped Marie and replaced her! If I can do it once I can do it again!”

“Yes, well, kidnapping your identical twin sister landed you in a mental hospital.” Tommy points out. “Also Karen Lassiter looks NOTHING like you. It only worked with Marie because you two are IDENTICAL TWINS.”

“Oh right…” Kim folds her arms over her chest and pouts “...fighting wars can be so hard.”

“I know.” Tommy kisses Kimberly on the cheek. “Instead of going for a full scale war, why don’t we just, you know, move?”

“Move?!” Kim seems stunned at the suggestion. Tommy nods his head.

“Of course. I mean, face it, you weren’t exactly fond of the place when we first moved in. It was too nice for your standards. Now on top of that, you’re having to deal with a…well…a literal Karen. So let’s just our losses and move somewhere that might fit your style better and where we don’t have to deal with a homeowner’s association.”

“You are suggesting that I quit?” Kim shakes her head vehemently. “I may be a lot of things, but I am NOT a quitter! I am not going to let her run me off! Besides, it has been my childhood dream to go to war with a HOA President named Karen Lassiter.”

“That’s quite a specific dream, babe.” Tommy laughs. “But don’t you have other dreams to focus on?”

“Well there is ONE other dream that I have, one goal that means more to me right now than gouging Karen’s eyes out.”

“What’s that?”

“Becoming SCW World Champion.”

“Oh well that’s interesting.” Tommy nods his head. “I gotta say, though, I didn’t think you cared that much about being World Champion? Hell, didn’t you threaten to burn the SCW World Title?”

“Yep…” Kim snickers “...but that was when I didn’t really understand the enormity of what it means to be at the top of the company. Being World Champion was Marie’s dream at the time. She knew the feeling as she had been World Champion in other promotions…namely GCW. But I was willing to help her achieve that goal. I didn’t really want the SCW World Title then, but Shaun Cruiserweight put me in that double jeopardy match for the title for some ungodly reason. Still, I was in it and I was gonna compete…not for myself but for Marie. I really wasn’t gonna burn it if I won, I was just gonna give it to Marie.” She chuckles. “That’s probably why I didn’t win. I didn’t care enough. I didn’t have the passion or determination.”

“You do now?” Tommy asks, arching a brow.

“A lot has changed. I got another title shot since then…against Owen Cruze. But even then I think my focus was off. I was Underground Champion and it was winner take all. I was more focused on elevating the Underground Title than I was on actually winning the SCW World Title. Still I came close to winning.”

“So are you writing off becoming Underground Champion for a sixth time?” Tommy asks. Kim shakes her head.

“No…well I don’t know.” She sighs. “I just know my sisters have all won world titles. My mother and aunt are both former world champions. But none could do that here, none of them won the SCW World Title. I want to make them proud, I want to make my family proud, by winning the SCW World Title. And that means Taking Hold of the Flame…” her voice trails off.

“Yeah, that isn’t gonna be easy.” He shakes his head. “But I know you can do it.”

“And I will do it.” She insists. “I may have some personal issues with this Karen and her HOA. But that’s a minor problem. Taking Hold of the Flame is my focus, Tommy. I know that winning it is the quickest way to a World Title Match.” She holds up two fingers. “Two years in a row I turned in impressive performances. Two years in a row I came close. But this year has to be my year.”

“And it will be, babe.” Tommy smiles warmly. “You got me, your penguin, Caligula, and of course your Kimmymaniacs backing you up.”

“Thanks.” Kim hugs him in a tight embrace. Eventually she breaks her grip and stands back up. “Now then, maggots, can I resume my WAR PLANNING against the evil empire?!”

“Sure…” Tommy laughs “...just be careful!”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word!” Kim proudly declares.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

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May 18th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The sun hung lazily in the mid-morning sky, filtered through the light haze of a bright day in Boston, Massachusetts. The air was warm with just the right nip of chill to remind Boston residents that summer had not yet claimed the city. Birds chirped half-heartedly from the budding trees. Kimberly Williams lay draped across a lounge chair on her modest backyard patio as if it were a throne made for scandal. The patio itself was a modest space of clean stone pavers surrounded by a white privacy fence, just high enough to give her room to act out her insane antics, but not quite high enough to keep her out of the HOA’s (and Karen Lassiter’s) crosshairs. A mismatched collection of potted plants cluttered the edges. The Dalek Karen Lassiter had encountered last time is gone, just as she had requested. But Kim has had it replaced. Standing there in the center of the lawn is a ten foot tall, massive cardboard cutout SCW’s former top man in charge, Mr. D.

But none of that compared to Kimberly herself. She wore what could only be described as the unholy offspring of a circus ringleader and a Venetian opera diva. A crimson velvet tailcoat, hem trailing dramatically across the patio stones, clung to her shoulders with unnecessary shoulder pads that gave her the silhouette of a villainous matriarch from a 1980s soap opera. Beneath the coat, a sparkling gold corset clashed gloriously with zebra-striped leggings tucked into thigh-high patent leather boots with absurd heels that glinted like obsidian. A monocle dangled from a golden chain around her neck, though it was clearly plastic and designed for a Halloween costume. To complete the ensemble, she wore a towering, feathered headpiece, a riot of peacock blues and lime green that looked like it could take flight on its own given a strong enough gust of wind. In one hand she held a wine glass filled not with wine, but neon orange sports drink. In the other, she languidly twirled a bubble wand, sending the occasional iridescent orb drifting into the air like emissaries of absurdity. She heard the click of shoes indicating the arrival of a visitor. Kim is not surprised. She was anticipating this. She was counting on this. This is the arrival of the woman who represents ‘the evil empire’ as Kim calls it; Karen Lassiter.

Karen Lassiter approached from the side gate, which Kimberly had thoughtfully left unlocked. The gate creaked with a practiced sort of disapproval, announcing the arrival of someone who always traveled with the air of reluctant enforcement. Her hair was neatly bobbed and streaked with the precise kind of blonde that required scheduled maintenance. Her pastel blouse and khaki slacks were as crisp as her expression was tight. Her clipboard, of course there was a clipboard, was held against her chest like armor. The tension that always accompanied Karen’s presence drifted into the yard like secondhand perfume. Kimberly did not flinch. She adjusted the peacock feathers on her headpiece, exhaled as if exhausted by the sheer effort of being fabulous, and took another slow sip of her lurid sports drink. A bubble popped just as Karen reached the edge of the patio, narrowly missing her nose. Kim knew this would be the start of just the latest of her games. One she’d been rehearsing for all morning. The stage was set. The curtain was up. And now, at last, the players stood in position.

“Karen!” Kim says gleefully, as if she is happy to see her here. And in a way, she is. This is the perfect opportunity to annoy her. This is Kim’s ‘war strategy’...annoy the piss out of Lassiter. “My favorite HOA President!” She swings her legs over the edge of the lounge chair and quickly stands up. “How the hell are ya?!”

“I WAS in a good mood…” Karen remarks coldly “...then I saw you looking like…” she makes a look of disgust, like she’s about to vomit “...like this!”

“Awww thanks!” Kim exclaims. “I aim to please!”

“Obviously you are STILL choosing to act like a troublemaker instead of abiding by the rules.” Karen says scoldingly, like a parent talking to her child. Kim smirks knowingly.

“I do NOT act like a troublemaker. I AM a troublemaker.” She winks. “Get it right, Karen.”

“That much we can agree on.” Lassiter rolls her eyes.

“Why do you sound so grumpy, Kare-Bear?” Kim asks. “I mean, you should be happy. You asked me to get rid of the Dalek and I did.”

“Yes, yes you did.” Karen growls and then points up at the ten foot tall Mr. D. “But you just replaced one monstrosity with another!”

“That is NOT a monstrosity!” Kim says, feigning offense. “That is a Canadian!”

“That is a giant…thing…”

“No, it’s a Canadian.” Kim tilts her head to one side and studies Karen. “You aren’t prejudiced against Canadians, ARE YOU?” She asks playfully. “That might be against one of your HOA policies.”

“What?!” Karen exclaims. “Why would I be prejudiced against Canada?!”

“Good.” Kim smirks. “Otherwise I would have to report you to the HOA.”

“Listen here, Williams.” Karen says, her patience is growing thin and she appears to be ready to burst into an angry rage at a moment’s notice. “I stopped by just to check on you, to see if you were complying by HOA guidelines. I asked you to get rid of that giant pepper shaker thing…”

“Dalek.”

“Whatever! I asked you to get rid of it…”

“And I did!” Kim bows. “You’re welcome! Glad I could help!”

“You didn’t help and you certainly didn’t abide by the guidelines!” Karen points at Mr. D again. “You just replaced the giant pepper shaker with a giant Canadian!”

“His name is Mr. D and he wishes you would respect his life choices.” Kim states firmly.

“I don’t care!” Karen shouts angrily. “Take Mr. D down and send him back to Toronto or wherever the hell you got him from! Do it now or else!”

“Or else what?” Kim asks with a jovial grin on her face. Karen does not look happy at all. She places her hands on her hips.

“There will be consequences for continued non-compliance, Ms. Williams.” Karen’s voice is spitting with anger. “As a matter of fact, tomorrow there happens to be a meeting of the homeowner’s association…” she points a finger at Kim “...and you and your walrus of a boyfriend had better show up!”

“I didn’t know I was dating a walrus!” Kim grins from ear to ear. “I can’t wait to tell my friends! They’ll be so jealous!”

“Shut up!” Karen exclaims. “Just take note that there is a HOA meeting tomorrow and you BOTH had better be there. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Kim says, playfully saluting Karen.

With that, Karen turns on her heel and storms away in a huff. Kimberly is waving at her the entire time with a grin on her face. It is obvious that The Woman Scorned enjoyed every bit of this encounter. A few moments later, once Karen Lassiter is safely out of range, Tommy Wasley enters the scene and joins his girlfriend on the patio.

“You had fun, didn’t you?” He asks.

“It was a blast!” Kim says gleefully. “Did ya see it?”

“I saw the whole thing.” He says, nodding his head. “So is this your strategy? Just be obnoxious until she leaves you alone?”

“Yup.” Kim nods her head. “If there’s one thing I’m great at, its being obnoxious!”

“Yeah, well, leaving isn’t her only option. She could try to force us to leave.” Tommy points out. “Did you think about that?”

“Eh, don’t worry.” Kim scoffs. “I’ll cross that bridge when and IF we get there.” She snickers. “For now, I’m gonna enjoy this.”

“We may have to cross that bridge earlier than you think.” Tommy points out. “Remember we got that meeting tomorrow.”

“I was gonna skip it.” Kim says. “I do have other things to focus on, like Taking Hold of the Flame.”

“You SHOULD be focusing on Taking Hold of the Flame, but skipping this meeting now is not a good idea. She made it a point to invite you…well, order you…and after all you’ve done to intentionally annoy her, it is obvious that you are going to be a topic of discussion tomorrow night. And if you aren’t there, then she has free reign to say whatever she wants about you.”

“Yeah, I see your point.” Williams smirks. “Oh well…I’ll just make her regret inviting me!”

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May 19th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The community center in Boston, Massachusetts had faux-brick facade and grand double doors that seemed to suggest a miniature town hall, but the illusion wore thin the moment one stepped inside. The walls were lined with bland motivational posters left over from a bulk order, likely ordered by Karen Lassiter herself to promote her idea of how the HOA should be run. Some of these slogans included: “Civility is Strength,” “Harmony Builds Community,” “Quiet Voices, Big Impact”; all printed in pastel gradients that clashed unforgivably with the beige carpet. Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, flickering now and then with a nervous tic that had gone ignored for months. A long folding table stretched across the front of the room, draped in a navy-blue cloth. The folding chairs were the kind that pinched the back if you sat too far back, but they’d been arranged in painfully neat rows for the dozen or so residents trickling in. Most were retirees with polite smiles and quiet grumbles, dressed in the uniform of upper-middle-class civility: pressed slacks, cardigans, loafers, and neutral tones. A large coffee urn burbled in the back corner next to a tray of sugar cookies that looked like they’d been bought more out of obligation than generosity.

Kimberly Williams and Tommy Wasley were not blending in. They entered as a unit, a united front of defiant whimsy against the beige monotony. Tommy wore a crisp white shirt that might have been formal if not for the unbuttoned collar, the paisley suspenders in bright violet and gold, and the rolled-up sleeves. His khaki slacks were actually tailored, though his brown leather boots had clearly seen better days. His beard was combed but unruly, like a man who had wrestled with the mirror and made peace with partial defeat. Kim, by contrast, had clearly planned her outfit as a declaration of war. She wore a mismatched ensemble that included a purple silk blouse, a hot pink miniskirt, and olive green high heel shoes. A belt cinched at her waist with a comically oversized gold buckle in the shape of a penguin. Her hair was twisted up in a gravity-defying style, pinned in place with at least three glittering chopsticks. She wore sunglasses indoors. They were heart-shaped. As they made their way to the third row of chairs, several heads turned. One woman audibly gasped. Karen Lassiter, seated at the head table in a powder-blue pantsuit, stiffened like a woman who had just tasted something sour but didn’t want to be rude about it. Her eyes locked onto Kimberly’s ensemble with the weariness of a soldier recognizing a familiar battlefield. Tommy offered a polite nod to a man near the coffee maker. Kim didn’t acknowledge anyone. She sat with the poise of a woman claiming a throne. Tommy eased into the seat next to her with practiced nonchalance, crossing one ankle over his knee and resting his arm along the back of her chair. The room settled with the hum of hushed conversations and shuffling papers. A gavel, unnecessarily large, lay waiting near the edge of the long table up front. Karen reached for her clipboard. Someone coughed. The door closed with a soft thud.

“Well here we are…” Tommy sounds rather nervous as his voice trails off. Kimberly, however, seems to be rather excited. In fact, she seems eager to tackle this next challenge in her quest to ‘vanquish the evil empire’ of the Homeowner’s Association that she and Tommy are having to deal with. Kimberly’s most recent encounter with Karen Lassiter was carefully orchestrated to further infuriate her, to continue to annoy her without doing anything to overtly defy HOA guidelines. Kimberly was asked to take down her life size Dalek statue…and she did…but she replaced it with a massive cardboard cutout of SCW’s Mr. D. No one told her she could not put Mr. D up in her yard. It was a minor technicality that even Karen Lassiter could not deny. But coincidentally a meeting of the HOA is taking place the next day and The Woman Scorned anticipates action from her ‘sworn enemy’ Karen Lassiter.

“A bunch of old people.” Kim whines. “There’s a few people our age but not many.”

“I wouldn’t worry about our demographics. I would be worrying about what Karen has in store for you. You have been a thorn in her side for over a month now and she doesn’t seem like the type to just forgive and forget. She’s likely gonna bring up this feud between you two.”

“Bring it on.” Kim smirks knowingly. “I came prepared for war.” She produces her purse and opens it up, showing Tommy that there is a taser tucked inside. “See?”

“You are joking, right babe?” Tommy asks.

“Have you ever known me to be serious?” Kim says, winking playfully. Tommy shakes her head.

“Never. But, uh, that taser isn’t exactly what I was talking about.” Tommy chuckles. “I mean, you need to be ready to defend yourself against whatever accusations she throws your way.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Kim folds her arms over her chest. “I just hope this meeting gets over with quickly. Karen is really cramping my style and my schedule by practically forcing my hand and forcing me to be here tonight!

“I know, I know, you want to prepare for Taking Hold of the Flame.”

“It isn’t just a matter of wanting to win…” Kim sighs “...everyone in the damn company wants to win it. But I need to win it. I HAVE to win it. For too long I have asked myself if I truly was worthy of carrying on my mother’s legacy, the Jones Wrestling legacy. Was I worthy of being a Dragon like my mom? My legendary mother never won Taking Hold of the Flame. She never won the SCW World Title. She never main evented Rise To Greatness. But if I were to do that…” Kim smirks “...if I were to win the Flame, go to the main event of Rise To Greatness, and become SCW World Champion, then yeah, I would prove that I am worthy of carrying on my family name.”

“You’re crazy.” Tommy says.

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“I’m serious, your nuttier than a fruitcake.” Tommy chuckles. “You are crazy if you think that you need to do anything else to prove that you are worthy. You are one of the best to do it, Kim, and this stupid meeting won’t hinder you from achieving your goal. So don’t sweat it. Besides…” Tommy kisses her on her cheek. “...you did start this. You provoked Karen.”

“What is this? You taking her side?” Kim seems surprised.

“Just pointing out facts, babe. But I…” Tommy, along with everyone else in the room still engaged in their own idle conversations, are interrupted by the loud banging of the gavel. Kim, Tommy, and the entire room turn their attention towards Karen, who holds the gavel in her hand authoritatively. She pauses for a moment before setting it back down. Kim and Tommy brace themselves. They know that the time is now.

“As President of the Homeowner’s Association I would like to call this meeting to order. And as President, I would like to begin by addressing a particular problem that has arisen…”

“Order! Order in the court!” Kim cries out, feigning anger. “Objection, your honor!”

“What is your problem, Ms. Williams?” Karen asks.

“Aren’t we supposed to read the minutes of the previous meeting first? I mean, that’s proper procedure, right?”

“This is a unique situation.” Karen points out.

“Whatever you say.” Kim winks. “But I might have to report you to the HOA for breaking procedure.”

The Woman Scorned can see based on the redness in Karen’s face that the last sentence really irked the HOA President. Karen does her best to maintain her composure as she continues with her meeting.

“Like I said, Ms. Williams, this is a unique situation.” She points a finger at Kimberly. “And, to be perfectly frank, I am glad you interrupted me, because this unique situation involves you.”

“Oh goodie!” Kim exclaims. “I love being the center of attention!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, this right here is but a mere glimpse into the insane world of Ms. Kimberly Williams and of the threat she poses to the peace and order of this community. Look around you! Look at these signs…Harmony Builds Community. Civility Is Strength. These are the slogans that our little community has been built upon, that we have lived by, for such a long time now.” She motions to the others gathered here in the room around the table. “All of you, including Ms. Williams and Mr. Wasley, signed the agreements binding everyone in our community to the same rules and regulations that maintain the peace and harmony of our community.” Karen points a finger at Kimberly. “But she refuses to abide by our guidelines and thus threatens peace and stability.”

“Rules are meant to be broken.” Kim says playfully.

“No, they are meant to be obeyed.” Karen says pointedly. “Now, allow me to tell you of the many infractions she has made. We have strict rules about when decorations can be displayed, what kind of decorations can be displayed, and how many decorations can be displayed. The closest holiday is July 4th, Independence Day, and the decorations she has in her yard are nowhere near resembling anything that would honor this country.”

“Ok, ok, I’ll admit, my decorations do not honor the United States of America.” Kim sighs. “The Dalek was made by the British.”

“Yes! That pepper shaker thing!” Karen shouts. “It is obscene!”

“Yes but I took it down.”

“Only to put up a giant monstrosity in its place!”

“Mr. D is not a monstrosity.” Kim sighs. “But he is Canadian so I suppose that doesn’t exactly honor the upcoming July 4th holiday, either…or Memorial Day for that matter. But I did take him down. Can I put him back up on Canada Day?”

“No!” Karen exclaims. “Your…Mr. D…is no longer allowed up!”

“You are clearly prejudiced against Canadians.” Kim points out sternly.

“Am not!”

“Now you sound like a child.” Kim snickers.

“Says the one who is disrespecting everything this community stands for!” She motions to Kim. “Look at how she is dressed! Is this how one dresses for a formal meeting?! You look like a clown?!”

“I didn’t realize there was a dress code in the HOA documents we signed.”

“There isn’t but if you had a shred of common decency you would show our community some respect.” Karen looks out at the others gathered around the table. “Do you see, ladies and gentlemen? Ms. Williams has no respect for any of you.”

“I respect them. I even respect this organization.” She points at Karen. “I just don’t respect you.”

“I do not need your respect.” Karen snaps. “But if you respected this organization then you would conform to the standards and rules of the HOA.”

“Look, Kare-Bear, you’ve had your time to speak. Now it’s my turn.” Williams stands up. Tommy sinks into his chair, nervous about what his girlfriend might say next. “I’m not gonna stand here and argue for complete anarchy within the community. Sure, certain guidelines and rules need to be in place, but do we need to be all stuck up about them? Do we need to be so damn obsessed with them that we lose sense of our individuality?” She points at Karen. “People like Kare-Bear want everyone of you to fit into a cookie cutter mold. She wants each and every single one of you to be clones. Duplicates. No individuality. We are borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.” The Woman Scorned shakes her head.

“But not me, I cannot do that and I won’t do that. I cannot conform because that’s just not in my nature. Some of you have conforming to her rules to be quite easy because, well, you all have been raised in comfort, in wealth, and in luxury. You, like Kare-Bear, come from money. But I didn’t. My life started out in a living hell, cut off from my family, had no one who cared about me, and I was on a downward spiral. I’m not gonna go into the sordid details of my life story. If you are interested, I’m sure all of you, with your wealth, can easily find out. Point is, the things that I have done tend to change a person. For a long time it made me a monster.” Her tone had been serious but then she starts grinning.

“But then I refused to let my circumstances rule my life. I decided to enjoy life! I decided to be unique! There is only ONE Kimberly Williams and you will never find anyone quite like me! I have a penguin and hamster that I talk to. Big deal! I happen to enjoy rolling around in barbed wire for a living. So what? I am a professional wrestler and soon I will kick the ever living crap out of thirty nine other competitors because I want to be SCW World Champion. Why do I put myself through that? Because I enjoy entertaining the fans. The fans love me. They find me entertaining. And if I had to poll you, I would guess that most of you find me entertaining too.” She points a finger at Karen. “But Karen…she’s just dull.”

“Dull?!” Karen exclaims.

“You heard me.”

“I cannot believe you would say such a thing!” Karen shouts. “Apologize!”

“No.”

“Apologize!”

“Uh, babe,” Tommy whispers “maybe you should…”

“Oh alright.” Kim sighs. “I am so sorry that you are one dull, boring, little old lady.”

“What?!” Karen stands up, now furious. “This is outrageous!”

“I apologized. What else do you want?” Kim smirks knowingly. Karen is boiling over with anger. Kimberly can sense that she is about to pop, that she is about to lose control. Any moment now Karen is going to snap, Kim can sense it. But Karen does maintain a semblance of self-control. Instead of doing something she might later regret, Karen just storms away in a huff, walking past Tommy, Kim, and everyone else in attendance. Karen Lassiter storms out of the building and slams the door shut behind her. Kim chuckles.

“She took that well.”

“I dunno.” Tommy stands up. “You may have pushed here a bit too far this time, babe.”

“Nonsense.” Kim insists. “I’ve only just begun to be obnoxious.”

The others in attendance are mostly silent, many do not know quite what to think. Others talk amongst themselves, no doubt about the awkward exchange between Kimberly and Karen. It is hard to tell at this point who the remaining members of the community support; Kim or Karen. Nevertheless, this meeting ended rather abruptly and awkwardly. Kim is happy with her work and even more happy that she made Karen Lassiter so angry that she just left. But before Kim and Tommy can do anything else, another woman approaches them. She appears to be Karen’s age and, like Karen, is well dressed and well kept. Williams can only assume that she is about to make another ‘friend’ and prepares herself for the worst.

“Hi,” Kim waves playfully “did you enjoy the show?”

“Indeed I did.” The woman remarks. She extends a hand. “My name is Camilla Aldridge and I must say that I am very impressed with how you handled Karen Lassiter.”

“Oh really?” This response took Kim by surprise. She accepts the handshake. Camilla nods her head.

“Karen has always been full of herself and very bossy. It was quite refreshing to see someone finally put her in her place.”

“What can I say? I enjoy putting people like her in her place.”

“I can tell.” Camilla nods her head. “And I want to assure you, there are more people who support you than her.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Camilla nods her head. “Do not back down, Kimberly. You have supporters.”

Just as quickly as she came by, Camilla turns and makes her exit. Kim grins from ear to ear, pleasantly surprised to learn that people here do indeed support her stance against Karen Lassiter. Tommy, however, seems confused.

“That was odd.”

“What?” Kim asks.

“Camilla.”

“What’s odd about it?” Kim asks. “She likes my work. And apparently other people do! The evil empire is about to fall because I have started a revolution!”

Indeed a revolution has been started. The status quo has been upset by The Woman Scorned and the homeowner’s association will never be the same, she has seen to that. But where this goes from here is anyone’s guess. According to this new woman, Camilla, most of the other people support Kimberly over Karen and have welcomed her challenge to Karen’s authority. Still, Karen is the HOA President, and that brings with it some great power and leverage. Kim has survived yet another encounter with Karen Lassiter. She has arguably WON this battle but the war is far from over.

Then there is another war looming on the horizon, namely Taking Hold of the Flame. For a long time The Queen of the Death Match has never focused too much on being a World Champion but now all of that is changing. She attributes this change to her growing attachment to her family. The Jones Wrestling Family is known for producing World Champions but Kim, despite being the daughter of Angelica Jones, has never truly viewed herself as a Jones, she never thought she was worthy of the name. Call it maturity, call it introspection, call it whatever you want, Kimberly is beginning to think herself more and more as worthy of the Jones Wrestling Family legacy. Now she wants to make her family proud by doing what none of them could do; win Taking Hold of the Flame and become SCW World Champion.

So Kimberly is prepared to enter Taking Hold of the Flame yet again, only this time she isn’t doing it to elevate the Underground Title or to send a message. This time she is entering for the right reasons. She knows that this battle royal is the quickest way to a World Title shot. It may not be easy but at least Taking Hold of the Flame, a match rooted in chaos, is in her wheelhouse. She is determined to make sure that this year is her year to win it all.

[Giovanni Aries]

The Wonderland Madman: Erosion Of The Family

[The Assassin]

1 of 2
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May 24th, 2025
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
==========

Taking Hold of the Flame is one week away. It is the kickoff to Rise To Greatness season and despite only being associated with Supreme Championship Wrestling for a brief time for both of his stints, the importance of this time of year is not lost upon Clyde Sutter. This is the time of year where one can instantly jump the line and earn a World Championship Match in the main event of Rise To Greatness. Sutter, being relatively new professional wrestling, has never been in that kind of spotlight before and he has certainly never held a World Championship before. It has never mattered to him before. Sutter is, after all, Fate’s Chosen Assassin and his job is to execute the will of Fate. Taking Hold of the Flame is an event unlike any other that speaks of destiny and, yes, of fate. After all, only one individual can win the battle royal. Only one can achieve the destined championship match. In Sutter’s twisted mind, Fate dictates who will survive. Yet this time feels different for The Assassin. His first run in SCW was built upon rage and spite. He was brought in to simply be a thorn in the side of Glory Braddock, nothing more, and being the angry young man he was then, he was more than happy to be that thorn. Things have changed. Sutter has now matured. Sutter is a changed man with a new outlook on life that goes even beyond his newfound obsession with Fate. He has someone else, other than Fate, that he wants to impress.

He has Melinda Braddock. Everything The Assassin has done since rekindling his romance with Melinda has been for her. Even returning to SCW has been all about her, earning money to spoil her rotten. Now with Taking Hold of the Flame coming up, he has a new motivation to want to win the battle royal. Yes, he wants to execute the will of Fate, but he also wants to win it for Melinda Braddock. He wants to be able to win the Flame, go on and win the SCW World Championship at Rise To Greatness, and then bestow the championship to her. Perhaps he will even prove to Melinda’s mother, Glory Braddock, that he is worthy of her daughter? Yes, even for a monster like The Assassin, Taking Hold of the Flame is a prize to be cherished, to be sought after, and he will fight for it just like thirty-nine others in the battle royal.

Proving himself to the Braddock family may seem strange but, for Clyde, it is really the only family he has other than the Van Stantons. His namesake family, the Sutters, only has one other living relative left other than himself; his sister, Lilith Sutter. Clyde wants nothing to do with his sister, a woman involved in organized crime, a woman who has harassed The Assassin for months on end. But now he has learned that Lilith was behind the drive by shooting that left Clyde’s half-brother Archie Van Stanton dead and Clyde’s girlfriend Melinda Braddock seriously injured. The rage that The Assassin has tried so hard to keep bottled up, to keep contained, is once again boiling up within. Sutter is afraid that he might lose control again and that monster he once was might come rearing its ugly head. Thus he needs to make a stop before beginning his quest to Taking Hold of the Flame.

The sun beat down on the city of Miami with its usual relentless clarity, pouring golden light across the sprawling skyline, painting high-rises in tones of cream and fire. Outside, palm trees swayed in a lazy rhythm, their shadows carving jagged paths across the glittering pavement as the Atlantic murmured in the distance. But inside the cool, climate-controlled office, the mood was one of quiet tension, the kind that hummed just beneath the surface of civility. Dr. Evelyn Carter’s office was a testament to curated serenity. Mid-century modern furniture stood in gentle contrast to the sleek minimalism of the space; glass walls rimmed with silver trim framed the room on two sides. The furniture, all clean lines and warm woods, was punctuated by accent pieces in soft teal and cream, creating a space that whispered rather than shouted. A low bookshelf stretched along one wall, filled with psychology texts, art monographs, and a few well-loved novels with their spines cracked from rereading. Two abstract watercolors hung above a pale leather couch, each capturing a sea storm in soft brushstrokes of indigo and violet. The office smelled faintly of lavender and old paper, a calming combination that mingled with the ever-present chill of central air. A glass pitcher of cucumber water sat untouched on a tray between two armchairs; only one of which was currently occupied.

Clyde Sutter sat with a posture at once regal and restless. His broad shoulders nearly overwhelmed the sleek contours of the chair, as if the furniture hadn’t been built to accommodate a man of his stature. His long black hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a leather cord, a few rebellious strands curling around his face and ears, slightly damp with Florida’s ever-clinging humidity. Today, he wore a charcoal button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, revealing forearms sculpted with quiet strength. A silver watch clung to his left wrist, catching the light whenever he shifted. His black jeans, worn but clean, tapered into scuffed leather boots that bore the marks of long walks and dusty roads. Across from him sat Dr. Carter, composed and poised in a sleeveless navy dress that hugged her slender figure in a way that suggested both elegance and restraint. A pair of thin, gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, and she held a leather-bound notebook in one hand, a fountain pen poised loosely in the other, as though she had not yet decided whether today was a day for writing or simply listening. There had been silence between them for a few seconds too long. The ticking of a minimalist brass wall clock became audible. Outside the window, a seagull arced past, calling once before disappearing from view. Clyde shifted slightly in his seat. Not with discomfort exactly, but with the weight of someone who had carried stories too long in silence.

“Mr. Sutter, I am pleased to see you again.” The good doctor says with a friendly professionalism in her voice. “Our last meeting left me…um…” she pauses, looking for the right word “...concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Yes.” She nods her head. “You mentioned that with your sister and her constant harassment, borderline stalker behavior, that you might get angry again, that you might lose your temper. That you might lose control.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Sutter says, nodding his head, keeping everything straight and to the point. Dr. Carter sighs.

“I don’t take that sort of thing lightly, Mr. Sutter.” She remarks pointedly. “To be perfectly frank, after you brought up that concern of yours, I expected more frequent visits from you since then. Yet here we are and this is the first time since February. Would you care to explain the reason for the long absence, Mr. Sutter, especially since you seemed so concerned?”

“Understand that I am a professional wrestler. I compete for Supreme Championship Wrestling. That career has me traveling all over the world. Forgive me for not dropping everything to make time for you.” He stares at her with his cold, emotionless eyes. The psychiatrist, who has seen it all, does not flinch.

“Well nevertheless, you are here now and that is what counts, I suppose.” She gets her pen and notepad ready to write. “You brought up your career. Why don’t we start there? Tell me about how things are going with Supreme Championship Wrestling.”

“I WAS the Television Champion. Emphasis on WAS…” his voice trails off “...that came to an end quicker than I had hoped.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Oh it’s quite alright. Victory is always ideal but, at the end of the day I am but Fate’s chosen Assassin. I execute the will of Fate and I do it through the avenue of professional wrestling. In doing so, I am allowed to achieve other secondary goals that are almost as important as winning.”

“Yes, I would like to circle back and talk about your view of fate, but first let’s discuss these ‘secondary goals’ you speak of; I do find it promising that you are not obsessing over winning each and every match. Obsession can be unhealthy, especially in a sport where victory is not always guaranteed.”

“The man I once was only wanted to wreak havoc, to destroy people, to win at any cost.” Sutter shakes his head. “This is not true any longer. Now, thanks to Fate, I can see the bigger picture. I see that there are things more important than winning.”

“Name one of those things, Mr. Sutter.” Carter says.

“Melinda.” He states. “My beloved. Everything I do is for her. My career is dedicated to her and to serving her. Most recently I targeted one Syren on behalf of my beloved’s mother.”

“Did she ask you to target Syren?” Carter asks, arching a brow out of curiosity. Sutter smirks.

“No…I did it out of the goodness of my heart. The next event is Taking Hold of the Flame, a match where one individual can claim a world title match by overcoming thirty nine other competitors.” Clyde leans forward, his face has that same smirk but has more intensity now. “I intend to win Taking Hold of the Flame, Dr. Carter. I intend to win it, go on to Rise To Greatness, and then go on to become SCW World Champion. I will gift that title to my beloved, to Melinda Braddock.”

“Well…” the psychiatrist isn’t quite sure what to make of Sutter’s motivation “...it is good to see that you have goals, Mr. Sutter.”

“It isn’t just a goal.” He says. “It is Fate. Fate has dictated that I shall win. Fate has dictated that I shall become SCW World Champion.”

“For your sake, Mr. Sutter, I hope that you do. Still, from what little you have told me about it, this Taking Hold of the Flame sounds like it is very difficult. Defeating thirty nine other wrestlers would have to be challenging. I would not get my hopes up, Mr. Sutter.”

“I am ready for the challenge.” Sutter sneers.

“Good.” She nods her head. “And it is good that your career is still going well. I am especially pleased that your second run with this promotion has lasted longer than your first. All of this is promising, positive progress. But now I would like to focus on something else, the elephant in the room, if you will.”

“Yes?”

“I do watch the news, Mr. Sutter.” Evelyn Carter says. “I have heard the breaking news about the new information regarding the death of your half-brother, Archie Van Stanton.”

The Assassin leans back in his chair. He rubs his temple with his right hand. It is strange that Sutter would take this whole ordeal, this situation regarding Archie Van Stanton so hard. Clyde never met Archie. Sure, they are half-brothers due to having the same mother, but they never met. And yet for some reason The Assassin feels upset by the fact that his sister, Lilith Sutter, was responsible for Archie’s death. The news of Lilith’s involvement nearly sent Clyde over the edge, it nearly caused him to lose control, which he knows is precisely what Lilith wants. She knows that Clyde losing control and reverting back to his old ways would no doubt ruin the relationships he has built with the Van Stanton family and the Braddock family. It would isolate Clyde and lead him closer to Lilith. The Assassin cannot let that happen. He must remain composed. He must maintain his control. This is why he is seeing the psychiatrist in the first place.

“What do you want to know?” Clyde asks.

“Well, were you surprised to hear that your sister was involved?”

“Yes, I was surprised.” Clyde sighs and nods his head. “At first I was merely surprised that she even knew that Archie was my half-brother. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it made perfect sense. She has many connections. Of course she would have figured out the connection between myself and Archie, even before I knew it myself.” He shakes his head. “What shocked me the most was how she could coldly and callously murder family.”

“But Archie was YOUR brother, not hers.” The psychiatrist points out. This seems to anger Clyde ever so slightly.

“He was family! Do not split hairs! He…” The Assassin can see Carter tense up. He realizes that he is starting to lose control. Clyde leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his long black hair “...my apologies…”

“It’s quite alright.” She says. “It is understandable that this revelation would be shocking and disturbing. The depth of human depravity, the evil humans are capable of, can be quite surprising. And yet, there is a positive side to all of this.”

“Really?” Sutter sounds surprised at first, then sarcasm replaces his surprise. “Oh by all means, doctor, tell me about this positivity.”

“I recall our very first meeting.” She says. “You were a very angry, rage filled, vengeful young man. That man who I first met, he would have taken justice into his own hands. He would have become a vigilante.”

“The thought crossed my mind.” Sutter growls.

“But you did not give in to the temptation.” Evelyn says. “You found out about your sister’s involvement and instead of taking justice into your own hands you turns everything over to the police. You let law enforcement do their job. That was the right thing to do, Mr. Sutter, and I am proud of you. What you have done shows growth.”

“Yes, I have grown. I have matured.” Clyde scoffs. “Quit praising me, doctor. I do not deserve it.”

“Oh but you do deserve the praise.” She insists. “You have grown so much during the course of our sessions together. Everything you have been through, including the harassment from your sister, none of it has caused you to slip and regress.”

“You do not understand.” He shakes his head. “I went to her home in Birmingham. If I had found here there I was going to kill her. That was my plan.” He shakes his head. “But she wasn’t there.”

“So you called the police.”

“Yes…” Sutter sighs.

“Still, you could have tracked her down, you still could have taken justice into your own hands but you did not pursue it.” The doctor says. “That does warrant some praise. Now, Mr. Sutter, would you care to explain your feelings regarding all of this?”

“My feelings?” Sutter scoffs. “I am angry. My father destroyed the childhood and innocence of many innocent young people and got away with it with no consequences, no punishment. Now my sister is going to get away with murder.”

“She is a fugitive on the run.” Dr. Carter points out.

“Yes, on the run.” Sutter says angrily. “She is on the run and no one can find her. She has dropped off the face of the earth. She is going to get away with murder.”

“Please, Mr. Sutter,” the doctor says pleadingly “trust the system. They will find her.”

“I cannot just simply trust the system.” Sutter shakes his head. “I cannot trust this same system that has failed me one too many times.”

==========
May 26th, 2025
Charlotte, NC
Off Camera
==========

The rain had started without warning, a late afternoon downpour that turned Charlotte’s wide streets slick and gleaming like brushed obsidian. Storm clouds hung low over the city, darkening the skyline as they rolled between the high-rises like prowling giants. Mason Van Stanton stepped out of his parked black sedan, the umbrella he’d brought still crumpled on the passenger seat, forgotten. Rain slid down the collar of his slate-gray wool coat as he crossed the wide sidewalk toward his building, a luxury high-rise nestled between a boutique wine shop and a discreet Pilates studio. The lobby glowed warmly behind the tinted glass façade, its marble floors pristine, its air scented with eucalyptus and cedar from hidden vents. Mason nodded to the concierge without breaking stride, heading straight to the elevator bank with the brisk confidence of someone used to being expected. The ride to the seventh floor was quick and silent, punctuated only by the soft hum of the elevator motor and the faint chime as it reached his level. The doors opened to a plush hallway carpeted in soft burgundy and flanked by recessed wall sconces that gave off a gentle, golden light. Framed modernist prints lined the walls. Mason’s apartment was at the far end, a corner unit with wraparound windows and a view of the skyline, half-hidden now by sheets of rain. He reached the door and keyed in the code with the ease of habit. The electronic lock gave a soft beep and clicked open. He stepped inside, removing his coat as he did, and slung it over the brushed-steel hook beside the door. His apartment, all glass and concrete softened by rich leathers and muted earth tones, was eerily quiet. The living room spread out before him in elegant, minimalist design. A dark stone accent wall ran behind the flat-screen TV. A cream sectional sofa, unoccupied, curled toward the center of the room where a low glass coffee table held a stack of architectural magazines and a half-full tumbler of Scotch leftover from last night. The floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end were streaked with rain, the city beyond glowing like a wet canvas of neon and fog.

That was when he noticed the presence. Clyde Sutter stood near the center of the room, looming in front of the windows like a statue carved from stormclouds. His broad frame was barely contained by the dark forest-green jacket he wore, the collar turned up slightly and still speckled with rain. The black shirt beneath was partially unbuttoned at the top, clinging faintly to his chest as though he hadn’t fully dried off from outside. He wore dark jeans and heavy boots that left faint prints of water across the hardwood floor. His long black hair, usually tied back, hung loose now, damp and wild around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and pale eyes that glared with the heat of barely controlled fury. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, knuckles pale from pressure. He didn’t move as Mason stepped in. His entire presence filled the space, oppressive and coiled, like a storm barely held at bay. Every line of his body spoke of restraint; the kind that could snap at the slightest provocation. In that moment, standing in the entrance of his own apartment, Mason’s poise slipped just slightly, enough for surprise to register on his face, followed by a flicker of unease. The rain roared louder against the windows, wind howling faintly in the distance. Clyde didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His eyes locked with Mason’s, and in that quiet space between the storm and the words, everything that needed to be said was already simmering beneath the surface.

“Clyde…” Mason smiles and tries to pretend as if he is pleased, as if this were a pleasant surprise, but there is nothing pleasant about this surprise. Mason can already tell by the look on his former client’s face that Sutter is not thrilled, that this visit will not be a pleasant one “...uh, what a surprise! I wasn’t expecting you…” he smiles sheepishly “...how did you get in?”

“You gave me the access code to your apartment. Remember?” Sutter says stoically. “You thought it would be a good idea for me to be able to drop in whenever I wanted, since we were working so closely together.”

“Oh, right…” Mason silently curses himself “...well, since you’re here would you like a drink?”

“I already helped myself.”

“Oh, ok then…” Van Stanton thinks quickly on his feet “...snacks then? You must be hungry, having traveled all the way up here to Charlotte just to see me, huh?”

“No…”

“Ok, better idea!! We can go out to a nice bar, a nice restaurant or…” Mason tries to inch back close to the door, hoping to make a break for it. Sensing this move, The Assassin moves with catlike reflexes and grabs Mason by the arm just as he reaches for the door handle. Sutter with incredible strength throws Mason across the room, causing him to land hard on his back on the floor. If he didn’t know it before, Van Stanton now knows for certain that The Assassin isn’t here for pleasantries. He is angry and he is here for a purpose. Mason scrambles quickly back to his feet and tries to get away but he is too slow. Sutter already has him by the throat, keeping a vice like grip that keeps him restrained, keeps him from escape.

“Please, Clyde, think about this!” He pleads. “Think about what you’re doing! We can talk about this!”

“That’s right, Mason. We are going to talk.” Sutter punches Mason hard in the gut, causing Van Stanton to double over in pain and dropping to his knees. Sutter follows this up with a hard kick to the ribcage. This routine feels all too familiar for Sutter. He used to perpetrate acts like this all the time when he was a small time drug enforcer on the streets. Now he is roughing up Mason Van Stanton but for different reasons.

“What…” Mason coughs “...what do you want?!”

“Do you watch the news, Mason?” Clyde asks angrily. Mason slowly manages to push himself back to his knees and then, finally, back to his feet. Van Stanton slowly backs away, trying to keep a safe distance from Sutter, but Sutter keeps inching closer and closer. Mason nods his head.

“Of course I watch the news! What are you getting at?!”

“Then you know that my sister was involved in the shooting death of my half-brother…more importantly to you, your nephew…Archie Van Stanton.”

“Yes, I heard that…” Mason gulps and nods his head. He keeps backing up until he is backed up against a wall. He has nowhere else to go. Sutter gets up into his face.

“Did you know?”

“Uh…”

“DID YOU KNOW?!” Clyde shouts at the top of his lungs, causing Mason to flinch, expecting more violence. Mason finally shakes his head.

“No…” he sighs “...I had no idea, honestly, I had no clue she was behind it. You have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to believe anything you say.” Sutter punches Mason in the face, causing him to drop to the floor. The Assassin picks him back up and tosses him across the room. Van Stanton again slowly pushes himself back up. By the time he gets to his knees, Sutter is already on top of him again. Mason is now bleeding from his nose.

“Honest to God, Clyde, I had no idea she was the one who orchestrated that drive by!” Mason says pleadingly. “I have done some horrible things but do you really think I would sit idly by and just allow my own blood to be killed? That I would be a part of that?”

“The evil of man knows no bounds, Mason.” Sutter says coldly, echoing the words of the psychiatrist. The Assassin grabs Mason by the collar of his shirt and throws him roughly against another wall. Sutter pins him against the wall and gets up menacingly in his face. “Regardless, my sister is now on the run and I want to know where she is.”

“You…you want to kill her don’t you?” Mason asks.

“Maybe I just want to have a family reunion?” Clyde sneers. “Tell me where my sister is.”

“I don’t know.” Mason shakes his head furiously. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Liar!” Sutter knees him in the gut, causing him to double over in pain again. Sutter grabs him and pins him back against the wall. “She has been your primary financial backer, your primary investor. She is the reason your agency got back on its feet after near bankruptcy. You two were close business associates.”

“That doesn’t mean I know where she is hiding!” Mason insists. “Why would she tell me that?!”

“You are lying. I know it.” Sutter wraps his hands around Mason’s throat and starts to squeeze. “What surprises me is you would protect her KNOWING that she is responsible for your nephew’s death. I intend to get justice…but if I cannot get justice out of her then I will settle for you…” he starts to squeeze harder but Mason quickly and furiously shakes his head and coughs out a small, quiet beg…begging for his life…

“No, wait!”

“Yes?” Sutter eases up on his grip ever so slightly to let Mason breathe. “Do you have something to say?”

“Yes…” Mason nods his head. Sutter finally releases him, allowing Mason some time to compose himself and catch his breath. After this beating, Van Stanton looks like a total wreck. He was afraid of this happening, but he never expected this. “She’s in Russia.”

“Russia?” Sutter arches his brow out of curiosity.

“Yes, she’s hiding out in Russia. She knows that she’ll be safe there. Russia won’t honor extradition treaties. They’ll let her stay.”

“She fled to Russia.” Sutter nods his head. “It figures. She runs and hides.” He turns to glare back at Mason. “I do have one other question.”

“I don’t know anything else beyond that.” Mason says, fearing and bracing himself for another attack. “I swear!”

“Oh I think you know the answer to this.” Sutter begins. “You can deny all you want about what you did and did not know and when you knew it, but now that you know my sister was the mastermind behind your nephew’s murder, do you still plan to accept her blood money to fund your agency?”

“Clyde I…”

“That is a YES or NO question, Mason.” The Assassin says sternly. Van Stanton sighs and nods his head.

“I have to…I have no choice.”

“We all have a choice, Mason.”

“Not me.” He shakes his head. “My agency would go under without her financial backing.”

“Very well.” Sutter remarks. “As long as you can sleep at night.” The Assassin walks past Mason and approaches the door. He places his hand on the door handle but before he opens it he stops and turns to face Mason Van Stanton one final time. “Before I leave, do not tell anyone of what we discussed today or what happened today between us. Remember, I know all of your dark secrets…not just the secret that you just openly admitted to me this evening, that you knew of Lilith’s involvement with organized crime but said nothing…I know enough to bury you, Mason. And I will bury you if you get my way. Are we perfectly clear?”

“Yes…” Mason nods his head, his voice trailing off.

“Good. Do not tell your brother of this, either.”

“Henry?” Mason seems confused. “Why do you care?”

“Because unlike you, your brother is a decent human being and…” Sutter sighs, bowling his head, showing a hint of shame “...and I want him to believe that I am too. I do not want him to believe that I am still capable of this, of what I did to you this evening. So you keep my secret, and I promise to keep yours.” Sutter snarls. “Remember, I can bury you anytime I want, literally or figuratively.”

[James Evans]

The Yellow Door: Book Two
Family Values, Part One
Posting for this and the world title match

[Chris Lawler]

Disconnect

[The Matt]

2 of 2
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==========
May 26th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

It was one of those clear, golden mornings; the sunlight, filtered through the early bloom of dogwood and maple trees, bathed the backyard of Kimberly Williams and Tommy Wasley in a soft, honeyed glow. The breeze was gentle, carrying with it the faint perfume of newly mown grass and the distant, hopeful trill of a neighbor’s wind chimes. Kimberly lounged on the patio with an uncharacteristic stillness, stretched out in a cushioned wicker chaise that had only recently been excavated. A glass-topped side table stood beside her, supporting a white ceramic teacup with a thin gold rim and a matching saucer; evidence of a mood far more restrained than usual. The patio itself had been freshly swept, the garden gnome returned to his rightful position beneath the rose bush, and even the pink flamingo had been modestly relocated to a more discrete corner of the yard. Kimberly’s outfit was startling in its normalcy. She wore cream-colored slacks and a pale lavender blouse with a soft satin sheen, tucked neatly and buttoned modestly. Her feet, crossed at the ankle, rested in low-heeled sandals. Her red hair, usually a wild banner of eccentric defiance, was brushed smooth and pulled into a loose chignon pinned with a simple silver clip. The effect was striking, if only because it so thoroughly upended expectation. She looked, at that moment, like a woman ready to attend a brunch at an upscale boutique hotel rather than challenge the HOA constitution with interpretive dance or dress like a pirate. Had The Woman Scorned finally given up and let Karen Lassiter and the Homeowner’s Association win? Or is there some underlying agenda to all of this? With Kim, anything is possible.

The patio door opened, and the gentle creak of the white wooden gate followed seconds later. Kimberly didn’t look up. She had heard the telltale rhythm of Karen Lassiter’s footsteps approaching; measured, prim, unmistakable. The sound of practical shoes on flagstone. It was a cadence that Kimberly had, over time, come to recognize. Karen appeared on cue, walking with the clipped, careful poise of a woman who prided herself on never arriving flustered. Her pale blue blouse matched the HOA binder she clutched to her chest, and her hair was, as always, perfectly shaped into a helmet of curated composure. As she stepped through the gate and into view, her gaze swept across the yard, likely expecting to see something garish or forbidden. But instead she found serenity. Order. Taste. And Kimberly, of all people, looking demure, relaxed, and perhaps even…respectable. Karen’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Her brows rose a few degrees, the corner of her mouth twitched upward in what might, in generous lighting, be called a smile. For a moment, she looked genuinely pleased. The stage was once again set, but this time, it was not Kimberly’s usual theater of the absurd. It was quiet. Understated. Elegant.

“Well, Ms. Williams…” Karen’s voice is dry and definitely full of condescending arrogance, but also a hint of victory. She definitely looks at this clean and neat lawn, this normal appearance of Kimberly Williams, and she assumes that this means she has won. The Woman Scorned has given in and decided to conform. “...this is quite a pleasant surprise.”

“Pleasant?” Kimberly shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not so sure, we’ll see. But this isn’t exactly a surprise. You always stop by ready to judge me and my lifestyle.”

“I am HOA President.” Karen states. “It is my job to ensure everyone is abiding by the guidelines.”

“Hmmm,” she points to the clipboard and binder Karen has with her “is that for me?”

“Like I said, I am the President and I have a job to do.”

“So I take that to mean you ARE here to gripe and complain?” Kim asks, arching her brow out of curiosity.

“I’m not here to complain, Ms. Williams.” Karen says with a smug smirk on her face. “I mean, what is there to complain about? That pepper shaker thing is gone…

“The Dalek.”

“Yes, that.” Karen rolls her eyes. “That giant…standup…thing…”

“Mr. D.”

“Yes, him.” Karen nods her head. “He’s gone. The entire lawn looks very well kept up and maintained. And even you,” she motions towards Kim “you are dressed like a normal, mature human being.”

“Normal, huh?” Kimberly swings her feet over the edge and stands up. She approaches Karen slowly but not menacingly. She places her hands on her hips. “What exactly IS normal, Karen? How would you define it?”

“Well a normal person doesn’t wear the kind of ridiculous outfits I have seen you wearing from time to time.” Karen says dryly. “A normal person doesn’t have ugly, hideous monstrosities in their yard and try to pass them off as decorations. A normal person doesn’t booby trap their yard.”

“You have to admit that booby traps are very effective in stopping home invaders.” Kim says with a smirk on her face. Karen sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, well, they may be effective but they are also against the rules and regulations that you and your boyfriend signed when you agreed to live here in this home that falls under the jurisdiction of the homeowner’s association.”

“God knows I wouldn’t want to break those guidelines.” There is thick sarcasm dripping from Kim’s voice but Karen doesn’t seem to notice. She is too wrapped up in what appears to be her victory.

“See?” Karen says, grinning pleasantly. “This is precisely what I am talking about, Ms. Williams. Conformity is important and you, obviously, have finally understood why conforming to the HOA guidelines is so important to you and the community at large.”

“Yeah…” Kim’s voice trails off as a look of mischief forms across her face “...about that…” without warning Kimberly produces a water pistol and points it at Karen’s face. Karen tries to back away but it is far too late. Kim pulls the trigger and starts squirting water all over Karen’s face, getting her all wet. Karen shouts angrily, screeching and yelling. Kim tosses the water pistol aside and then starts laughing hysterically.

“What the hell was that?!” Karen exclaims angrily.

“That was a water pistol.” Kim says plainly.

“OBVIOUSLY!” Karen’s voice gets louder along with her fury and anger. “Why did you spray me with water?!”

“You should be grateful.” Kim says with a knowing grin. “Normally I have it loaded with hot sauce.”

“This is an outrage!” Karen pokes Kim in her chest. “You will pay for this, Ms. Williams! You cannot just go around doing insane things like this!”

“Sooooo spraying you with water is against the HOA guidelines too?” Kim asks innocently. “Who would’ve thought it?”

“Do NOT play dumb!”

“What about if I were to spray you with hot sauce?” Kim asks curiously. “Would that be within the rules?”

“No!”

Karen Lassiter continues to shout incoherently at the top of her lungs, all the while Kimberly just continues to laugh in her face, which only serves to further anger Lassiter. Kim is also laughing because she knows that the best is yet to come. Just then another figure enters the front lawn, unseen by Lassiter but seen by Kim herself. This person is dressed identically to Kim herself. She also looks identical to Kim herself. Yes, this is Marie Annabelle Jones, Kim’s identical twin sister.

“Hey! What’s all the yelling about?”

Lassiter turns around to see Marie standing there. Her eyes grow wide with surprise. She looks at Marie and then turns back at Kimberly. Then at Marie. Then back at Kimberly.

“Ms. Williams…?”

“Yes?” Kim and Marie speak up in unison, both nearly the same identical smirk on their faces.

“Don’t do that.” Karen shakes her head.

“Don’t do what?” Kim and Marie ask, once again in unison.

“That!” Karen exclaims. “Don’t talk like that!”

“Like what?” They say…again, in unison. Karen shakes her head furiously.

“This is crazy.” Karen is clearly flustered and frustrated. She is pulling at her soaking wet hair. “Ms. Williams…” she points at the both of them “...which one of you is Ms. Williams?”

“I am.” Kim and Marie say in unison, both raising their right hands, like they were a mirror of the other.

“I don’t…” Karen shakes her head “...I don’t understand!”

“Meet my twin sister Marie!” Kim and Marie say in unison, pointing at each other. Karen just looks even more confused, if that is possible.

“So which one of you is Marie?!”

“I am.” Kim and Marie say in unison, both raising their right hands, like they were a mirror of the other. Karen finally snaps and lets out one, loud, earth shattering shriek. Karen lunges forward and grabs hold of Kimberly…or at least who she hopes is Kimberly…and starts throwing punches, landing square on the jaw. Kim just laughs right back in her face which only further enrages Karen.

“Hey!” Marie shouts. “Hands off my sister!” She grabs Karen and pulls her off but Karen turns and backhands her and then punches her as well.

“This is absolute insanity! Karen shouts angrily. “You…whichever one of you is Ms. Williams…you have done nothing but blatantly disobey the rules and guidelines of the homeowner’s association! I thought that maybe, just maybe, you had matured, you had grown up, but you are obviously still the child that insists on challenging my authority and disrespecting me!” She glares angrily at Marie and then at Kim, seeing as she still isn’t sure which is which. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Oh I got plenty to say, Kare-Bear.” The Woman Scorned says with a wide, ear to ear grin on her face. “First of all, you punched both of us in the face. Second, my boyfriend Tommy is just inside and he caught all of that on camera. Third, I am pretty sure that physical assault goes against the rules and guidelines of the homeowner’s association. Fourth…” she turns and looks at Marie “...go and call the police, I am fairly certain that this falls under the category of assault and battery.”

“Police?!” Karen seems absolutely stunned. “After everything you have done, you are going to call the police on me?!”

“Yep.” Kim smirks knowingly. “You did tell me awhile back that you wanted me to get the police involved as opposed to using my booby traps. Right?”

“Uh…” Karen’s voice trails off.

“See? I am maturing.”

Karen Lassiter growls in anger. She turns around and storms away in a huff. Kimberly starts laughing hysterically. Even Marie, the ‘normal’ one of the two identical twin sisters, cannot stop herself from laughing.

“I’m gonna miss her!” Kim snickers. “Oh who am I kidding, she’ll be back to bother me tomorrow.”

“I don’t know. From what you’ve told me about her, she seems like the type who won’t give up so easily.”

“Yeah, but I’m this close to driving her completely crazy!” Kim smirks.

“I think you already drove her crazy.” Marie points out. “My question is, what is your goal? What do you hope to accomplish by pissing her off?”

“I’m just making a point.” Kim states as she sits back down in the same wicker chaise that she had been seated on before Karen came along. “People like her are entitled. People like her think that they can control people like me.” She shakes her head. “Well they can’t and she can’t. I am an individual, Marie, and I do what I want. I do not have to conform to anyone else’s standards.”

“Yet you want to conform to the Jones standard.” Marie points out. Kim arches her brow curiously.

“Huh?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but you are entering Taking Hold of the Flame and, unlike previous years, you want to win it so that you can become SCW World Champion. You want to main event Rise To Greatness and win the title because you want to prove yourself worthy of the Jones name, the Jones Wrestling legacy, and you think that by winning the Flame AND going on to become SCW World Champion, something myself and our mother never accomplished, that will somehow make you worthy.” Marie shakes her head. “You appear to want to conform, Kim. But you don’t have to conform. Everyone in this family accepts you for who you are. Your fans love you for who you are. You don’t have to change who you are, you don’t have to become just like me and mom to be worthy.”

“You got it wrong, Marie.” Kim stands back up. “People think that just because of who I am that I cannot and will not be SCW World Champion. People have certain expectations of me just because I am Crazy Kim. But I am not just Crazy Kim. I am an agent of chaos and the thing about chaos is that nothing is ever expected or anticipated. I do want to prove myself worthy of the Jones family, I do want to become SCW World Champion, and winning Taking Hold of the Flame is the fastest way there,” she shakes her head “but I am not conforming. I am not changing who I am.”

“Good.” Marie pats her on the back. “I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else but this crazy, eccentric person right here who I have grown to love.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Now, do you want me to call the police on Karen?”

“Nah,” Kim shakes her head, “it isn’t necessary. I did technically provoke her, in a manner of speaking. Besides, it’ll be more fun to let her dwell on it.”

==========
May 27th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

With Taking Hold of the Flame less than a week away, the SCW superstars are making their final preparations for the one night of the year in which they can change the entire trajectory of their career. In one night a wrestler could go from having nothing to earning a shot at the SCW World Championship in the main event of Rise To Greatness. Kimberly Williams, a woman who in the past has never really cared about being World Champion, now finds herself more determined than ever to achieve that goal. The day before, her twin sister Marie Jones accused her of going for the SCW World Title just to conform, to be like the rest of the Jones Wrestling Family. Kimberly quickly corrected her; yes, she does want to be a world champion like the rest of her famous family. Yes, she wants to prove herself worthy of the Jones name and winning Taking Hold of the Flame would certainly accomplish that goal. But Kim has no plans on doing this as anyone else but herself. She does not plan to change anything about herself. Kim’s goal is to prove that Crazy Kim, the Queen of the Death Match, is not only worthy of the Jones Wrestling Legacy but of challenging for the SCW World Title on the grandest stage at Rise To Greatness. Winning Taking Hold of the Flame is just the first step.

The Woman Scorned currently finds herself in her and Tommy’s cream colored, cozy and warm feeling carpeted bedroom. A large black gym bag sets on the king sized plush bed. No longer does she need to deceive anyone, so she is dressed in much more comfortable attire; torn denim, loose fitting jeans, a black t-shirt with the words “Queen of the Death Match” emblazed on the front in purple lettering, no shoes are on her feet, letting her toes wriggle comfortably in the cozy carpeting. Sprawled out across the bed, ready to be placed in the bag, are different variations of her ring gear; Kim just has to pick between the crimson red and black dragon themed gear that she typically wears or a Phoenix gear inspired by her sister. Also on the bed are her favorite weapons; Wasley the penguin, the water pistol complete with bottles of hot sauce, and a glove with knives for fingers that she lovingly calls “Betty White.” The Woman Scorned is inspecting it all so thoroughly that she doesn’t even notice her boyfriend, Tommy, entering the bedroom. Tommy is wearing a flannel long sleeve shirt, loose fitting khaki pants, and well worn dusty but sturdy brown boots. He looks on lovingly at his girlfriend for a few moments before letting his presence be known with a chuckle that startles Kim enough to cause her to turn around. The Woman Scorned arches her brow out of curiosity.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” He motions to the bed. “I have to ask…are you preparing for Taking Hold of the Flame or for war against Karen?”

“Taking Hold of the Flame.” Kim states. “Karen is yesterday’s news.”

“Good.” Tommy breathes a sigh of relief. “With those weapons lying there on the bed, I was kinda worried.”

“Nah,” Kim snickers “I aint gonna waste Betty White or Wasley on her.”

“But you MIGHT use them during the battle royal?” Tommy asks curiously. Kim nods her head furiously with a smirk on her face.

“Oh of course! Lots of people on the SCW roster need to meet Betty White…Dexter Grant, Syren, Juneau McFrosty, CBHK…”

“CHBK isn’t in the battle royal.”

“He’s annoying and that’s good enough for me and Betty.” Kim states. “Besides, anything goes in Taking Hold of the Flame and I plan to use that little rule to my fullest advantage. I am going to win this thing, Tommy, and I’m not gonna let anything or anybody stop me.”

“Good for you, babe.” Tommy kisses her on the forehead. “Though I gotta admit, it’s strange seeing you like this…”

“Like what?”

“Well…” he shrugs his shoulders “...I mean, you’ve really cared this much about winning anything, unless it was the Underground Championship.”

“I never asked to be pigeonholed into the Underground Division.” Kim states defiantly. “I was placed there because they assumed that, as a psychopath, I would be the perfect person for the job. In retaliation I decided to take their Underground Division and make it my own. For years I ruled that Division. Now is the time to remind everyone that I can rule all of SCW as its World Champion. Taking Hold of the Flame is the first step to proving that point.”

“Yeah? I just hope you’re not doing this to prove anything to your family or to your fans.” Tommy states. “You know your fans adore you. And your family…”

“Stop.” Kim shakes her head. “I already heard this from Marie yesterday and I’ll tell you what I told her; I know my family loves me. I get that part. But I do feel like I need to do something to prove myself worthy of the Jones Wrestling Legacy. Winning championships defines the Jones Wrestling Family. I want to do something to add to that legacy, something that proves I am worthy.”

“Well in my opinion, you don’t have anything to prove.” He kisses her again. “Still, go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Sure thing, MJ.” Kim snickers.

“Another thing,” Tommy says “speaking of the HOA and Karen Lassiter…what do you plan to do about that whole situation?”

“Right, that…” Kim’s voice trails off; she sighs “I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“I am?!” Tommy seems surprised. “Uh, what am I right about?”

“Not pressing the issue any further.” Kim shakes her head. “I think that maybe it’s time to go along with your original suggestion and just move.”

“Oh…well that is a surprise coming from you, babe.” Tommy says. “But you know, as much as I still think moving is in the best interest of all parties involved…I need to know, what made you change your mind? You seemed hell bent on fighting this war.”

“Oh I enjoyed fighting that war.” Kim snickers knowingly. “Driving Karen nuts has been a blast! But I got to thinking, I have been very lucky these last few encounters to have been on the right side of the law. And yesterday, when I kinda, sorta coerced her into assaulting me, I knew I could have really got her good by calling the police, but at the same time she could have brought up the other incidents and made a good case about how I provoked her.”

“Exactly.” Tommy nods her head.

“So yeah, I feel I have already made my point. It’s time for me to quit while I’m ahead.” The soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the house, crisp and melodic, cutting cleanly through the quiet hum of conversation upstairs. Kimberly’s head snapped toward the sound. “Were you expecting anyone?”

“No…” Tommy says, his voice trailing off. Kim grins.

“It might be Kare-Bear!”

“Again?” Tommy asks curiously.

“Again!” Kim says jubilantly. “I’ll go tell her the good news that we’re leaving…and maybe give her a gift goodbye…”

“Just be careful...” Tommy warns.

In an instant, she was on her feet, already halfway across the bedroom before Tommy had a chance to finish his sentence. Her footsteps were a joyful thump-thump-thump down the staircase, each landing a punctuation mark of energy and curiosity. The hallway below was bathed in late afternoon light streaming through the transom window above the door, casting warm shadows across the hardwood floor as she approached with a gleam in her eye. Kim threw the door open with the kind of flair that was second nature to her; but the sight on the porch made her pause, just for a breath. It wasn’t Karen Lassiter, as Kim had expected…

Camilla Aldridge stood framed in the doorway like she had been painted there by an artist with a deep respect for elegance. In her mid-fifties, Camilla carried the bearing of old New England money, unshaken, unhurried, and utterly unbothered by the need to impress. Her silvery-blonde hair was styled in a sleek French twist, not a single strand out of place, and her complexion was the kind that suggested both expensive skincare and a life lived far from fluorescent lighting. She wore a fitted cream blazer over a silk blouse, paired with tailored slate-gray trousers and low-heeled suede loafers that probably cost more than Kimberly’s entire living room set. Camilla’s eyes, cool gray, intelligent, and sharp with observation, met Kimberly’s with immediate recognition. She smiled, not broadly, but with the subtle satisfaction of someone who has just found exactly the person they were hoping to see. Behind her, the neighborhood looked unusually peaceful, the manicured hedges and soft chirp of spring birds forming a kind of cinematic backdrop to this unexpected arrival.

“Hi…” Kimberly waves playfully “...I am NOT interested in hearing about your Lord and Savior…”

“Don’t worry, I am not here for that.” Camilla says, chuckling quietly. “You do remember me, do you not? I do remember you, Kimberly.”

“Of course I do!” Kim says with a bright grin on her face. “You were a fan of my work the other week! I gotta warn you, if you want a repeat performance it will cost you extra.”

“Yes, my name is Camilla, Camilla Aldridge.” She says. “And yes, I was quite impressed with everything you did to Karen Lassiter that night. In fact, I have been keeping up with much of your recent activities against Ms. Lassiter.”

“So you’re a stalker too?” Kim asks curiously. Camilla laughs and shakes her head.

“No, just a fan of your work.” Camilla says. “As I told you at the meeting, Karen has been a thorn in my side, and the side of pretty much everyone else in the community.”

“Really?” Kim asks. Camilla nods her head.

“Oh yes. Just between you and me, no one likes her. It is always nice to see someone stand up to her and I do hope you continue your fight against her.”

“Thanks for the praise, Cammy,” Kim sighs “but like I said, no repeat performances. In fact, me and Tommy are already planning to move.”

“You have to be joking.” Camilla says. “Tell me you are joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Kim pauses to consider what she just said. “Actually, don’t answer that…but yes, me and Tommy are seriously thinking about moving. It’s best if I quit causing any further turmoil and trouble.”

“Trouble?” Camilla shakes her head. “Oh my dear Kimberly, you are not creating trouble. Karen has been the troublemaker this entire time. You have SOLVED this community’s trouble.”

“I have?” Kim seems genuinely surprised.

“Yes, you have, and I urge you to reconsider your plans on moving. The Karen Lassiter problem has been solved.”

“What are you saying?” Kim asks.

“I am saying that you won.” A smug, celebratory grin forms on her face. “Karen is already in the process of moving.”

“Karen is moving…that means I won…”

“Yes.” Camilla nods her head.

“I won!” Kim starts jumping up and down, celebrating furiously. “I won! I won! I won!” For Kim, winning this neighborhood war is almost equal to winning Taking Hold of the Flame, her next target in just under a week. Camilla just watches on with delight as Kim continues to dance around. Kim eventually composes herself and then hugs Camilla, who briefly flinches but maintains her own composure. Kim breaks the embrace. “This is great! We should celebrate!”

“I agree.” Camilla produces a small business card and hands it to Kim. The Woman Scorned looks at it curiously and then looks back up at Camilla.

“What’s this?”

“I own an upscale, fancy restaurant in Boston. I insist that you join me for an evening one night, just the two of us. Anything you want on the menu is on me, in thanksgiving for what you did for this community in ridding us of Lassiter.”

“Hmmm,” Kim ponders the offer for a moment “y’know, I appreciate this, and I love some good food and all, but fancy? Upscale?” Kim shakes her head. “That isn’t my thing. I’m sure there’s a snooty dress code isn’t there?”

“Well yes, there is a dress code,” Camilla begins “but you are a friend of the community, and more importantly you are now a friend of mine, and I own the restaurant. So you can wear anything you like.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. And if any of the staff give you trouble, tell them to talk to me.”

“Oh well when you put it like that,” Kim grins from ear to ear “I might take you up on that offer, Cammy!”

“Delightful.” Camilla grins. “I wrote my personal contact information on the back of the card.” She winks. “We’ll be in touch.”

==========
May 30th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera
==========

The scene opens on a vast expanse of land nestled within the bounds of Boston, Massachusetts. The grass is wild and tall in places, the kind that sways restlessly with every breeze. In the distance, the shadow of Boston’s urban life looms, rooftops, cranes, and the low hum of traffic. The overcast sky casts a cool gray filter over the scene, the kind that gives everything a sharper edge, a quiet intensity. Standing at the center of it all is Kimberly Williams. The Queen of the Death Match wears a plain black tank top and faded jeans. Her long red hair is unbound, catching the wind like flame trailing behind her, and there’s something primal in the way she stands, grounded, unmoving, like this land answers to her and not the other way around.

“Another year and another Flame ready to be Taken Hold of!” Kimberly says with a wide, ear to ear grin on her face. “Another year of the same people claiming that this year is their year to win it all and go on to Rise To Greatness and become SCW World Champion. It becomes monotonous, don’t ya think? Every year we have a breakout star who wants to shock the world, this year it happens to be Ryan Lecvaliar. Every year we have the veteran who wants to relive past glory, this year it’s Josh Hudson and Gavin Taylor among others. Every year there’s that goofball who you just want to see get their asses kicked and that would be Sal Darius. Of course you can’t forget the self-absorbed, entitled brats who year after year think that this year is their shortcut to the top.” She playfully waves at the camera. “Hi, Syren! And you cannot talk about Syren without talking about the other trope of the Flame, because year after year there’s always someone who is the target, the villain that everyone wants to see toppled. This year Selena Frost flexed her muscle to earn the number forty spot. Also there’s always a group that wants to rule SCW with an iron fist and see Taking Hold of the Flame as their opportunity to seize and maintain control…that would be The Fall of Man this year.” The Woman Scorned pats herself on the chest.

“And as for me, year after year I have always prided myself on being the agent of chaos. Year after year I enter Taking Hold of the Flame telling the world that I will introduce chaos into the battle royal and that if I win, I will introduce even more chaos into Supreme Championship Wrestling by using that battle royal victory to do something unprecedented. Sometimes, though, you need to look at yourself in the mirror and realize that something has gone amiss. So many others in this battle royal cannot look into the mirror, they fail to see what has gone wrong, which is why they will continue to fail this year. But me? I have looked into the mirror. I saw my reflection and I have come to the conclusion that I, myself, have become one of the many tropes of the Flame. The past few years I have been involved in the battle royal, it has always been with one goal in mind…how can I use a battle royal victory to further enhance the prestige of the Underground Division?”

“Things change and yes, even I change. I have to change if I expect to one day win Taking Hold of the Flame. First and foremost, I cannot be a schemer. I was a schemer…I was scheming year after year to try and put the Underground Division on the map by winning the Flame. But now that has changed. I refuse to be a schemer like Syren and Ravyn and her collection of saturday morning cartoon super villains trying to fool the world into believing that they have changed when all they are really doing is trying to con their way into getting Syren an easy way to a World Title Match. I am not a schemer like Selena Frost who has been flexing her way through the SCW ranks since her return and now hopes her entitled spot as number forty will grant her the quickest, easiest route to victory. I am not a schemer like the Fall of Man who are just the new bad guy group of the day trying to run roughshod over SCW. Dexter Grant, another schemer who wants to use this platform to spread his ridiculous little message. Everyone in this battle royal has their plans, their schemes, their own little agendas. But this year I am flipping the script. And, to quote the late great Heath Ledger, ‘I'm not a schemer. I try to show the schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are.’ I am going to show the Syrens, the Frosts, the Fall of Man, the Ryans, the Hudsons, and everyone else in this battle royal how pathetic they are to think that this year is their year. Because that line of thinking is the same tired old trope we get every year. I am going to give the people of SCW something different. And what is that something different, you ask?” Williams snickers.

“I am going to win Taking Hold of the Flame…not to create chaos, not to add prestige to the Underground Division, not just to deny a victory to some of those other names who may or may not deserve it…I am winning Taking Hold of the Flame because I want to be in the main event of Rise To Greatness. I want to become SCW World Champion in the main event of Rise To Greatness. Now that might come as a surprise to you because, for years, I have spent denying that I ever wanted to be SCW World Champion. Hell, in that time I have only had two world title matches. One was forced upon me by Shaun Cruiserweight and the other I earned because I participated in Ducky’s Trios Cash In. I was a different person then. The first title match, the one I was forced into, was the double jeopardy match, and I absolutely did not really want the SCW World Title then. That was Marie’s goal, not mine. I was fighting that match on her behalf. So obviously winning the World Title was not my focus. Later I fought Owen Cruze in a winner take all for both the SCW World and Underground Titles. Once again, my focus was lacking as I was more concerned with retaining the Underground Title than I was with actually beating Owen for the World Title. But now my focus has shifted and I have changed, and that change happened shortly after the match with Cruze. I changed when I walked back up the ramp after losing and I saw the disappointment in the eyes of my fans and that disappointment wasn’t because I had lost the Underground Title. They were disappointed that I was not the World Champion. The other thing that helped change my mindset?” She motions to the field behind her.

“Waaaaaay on back there behind me is my mother’s home. It is a nice big house on a nice big plot of land. She playfully named it Purgatory.” She snickers. “She trained my sisters there. She, my aunt, and my sisters to this day use it to train when they are scheduled for matches. But me?” She shakes her head. “I didn’t get introduced to Purgatory or my own family until much later in life. Part of that is my own fault, part of that is due to circumstances beyond my control. I am not telling this sob story because I want pity. I do not want nor do I need pity. I am telling this story just to point out that while I might come from a famous wrestling family, the Jones Wrestling Family, that doesn’t mean I enjoyed the luxury of the Jones name. I was the black sheep. I was forgotten. I had to forge my own path and for the longest time that path was a bloody, violent path through the Underground Division, through Death Match Wrestling. Sixteen times across five different promotions I was Queen of the Death Match and here in particular I took SCW’s Underground Title and I elevated it to new and grander heights never before seen in the history of this promotion. I forced the world to sit up and bear witness to and take notice of the name Kimberly Williams. So am I now prepared to forgo the Underground Division?” She shakes her head.

“No, but this is me saying that it is time that I expand my horizon. Because those people back there, the Jones Family, despite us being very different types of people, we are still blood and through the tough times, through the good times, through the bad times, through all the ups and downs, my mother and my sisters have always had my back. So I owe it to them…the people who held me up when I wanted to drop dead…I owe to my fans who continued to support me, those fans who were disappointed when I failed the capture the SCW World Title but still kept up hope…I owe it to everyone who has had my back to change the game here in Supreme Championship Wrestling. I owe it to them to quit being a god damned trope of Taking Hold of the Flame and finally do something different…march into that match and take anyone who gets in my way and throw them all over the top rope, and win the whole damn thing!”

“No one in this company wants to see Syren hold the World Championship again. Selena Frost, while I do take some partial blame for turning you into this egomaniacal monster, that doesn’t mean I am going to show you any pity, either. No one wants to see you win the battle royal just like they don’t want to see Syren and, despite what you may think, I can be the one to stop you. And if I get the chance, I WILL be the one to toss your ass out of the ring. SCW, in particular its fans, deserve something new, something better, something different to be in the main event of Rise To Greatness. SCW and its fans deserve something other than a cookie cutter bad guy or dime a dozen hero as the SCW World Champion. SCW and its fans deserve The Queen of the Death Match as the SCW World Champion and damn it, I am going to give it to them. The Kimmymaniacs will see me in the main event…but who will I face?” She shrugs her shoulders.

“Xander Valentine, part of me hopes you win the title at Taking Hold of the Flame. It would be a beautiful, glorious opportunity to test myself against SCW’s monster, SCW’s enforcer. You have put down a lot of people but can you put down someone as crazy, psychotic as me? Someone who can take the kind of punishment and abuse that I can take?” She sighs and shakes her head. “Then again, the odds are not in your favor. You have the entire Fall of Man to deal with. It could be one of them…Creek, Aries, or Jimbo…as World Champion. Which brings me back to The Fall of Man.”

“I knew one day we would run into each other again. You were complaining a long time about how I denied you your opportunity to get revenge against me for humiliating your pet monster Waylon. Well here’s an early Christmas gift from me to you! You keep that title in your camp and I’ll do my job, win the Flame, and one of you knuckleheads will get the opportunity to murder me in the main event of Rise To Greatness.” Williams laughs nastily. “Except that’s not gonna happen. See, I am a psychopath, I am a monster…I never once denied being a monster. And you and your group of group d’jour lackeys took it upon yourselves to ruin my last reign as SCW Underground. You think I forgot about James costing me the title? And then the bullshit with Leroy? You may have but I haven’t. I never forget. You stole the Underground Title from me and now I have the chance to even the score by stealing the SCW World Championship from you. Which means if Xander doesn’t end The Fall of Man, then I sure as hell will.”

“But none of this means anything unless I first win Taking Hold of the Flame. So if you are watching this, if you are listening to this, and you are entering the battle royal, I am warning you right here and now, do not get your hopes up. Do not allow yourself to slip into the same tired old trope of thinking and believing and hoping that this is your year…because it isn’t your year. This is my year and anyone who gets in my way will be mauled and cast aside like yesterday’s garbage over the top rope as I win the battle royal and earn my way into the main event of Rise To Greatness. And then I will bring the SCW World Championship to the Jones Family…where it belongs.”

[Xander Valentine]

1 of 2 - Encore, Chapter 31: Rebound and Out

[The Assassin]

2 of 2
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May 27th, 2025
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The late morning sun poured through the wide, tinted windows of the one-story Miami home, casting soft golden angles across the gleaming tile floors. The house, modestly upscale but tastefully modern, sat tucked behind a row of palm trees and privacy hedges. A pale stucco exterior gave way to a cool, open interior that whispered refinement rather than shouted wealth. It was the kind of home that looked designed to impress without overwhelming, where minimalism met warmth. This would never be the first choice of a home for “The Assassin” Clyde Sutter. The lap of luxury is not something he prefers. He is used to a more simplistic lifestyle. Still, one will not be choosy, especially when this particular home was gifted to him and his girlfriend by his girlfriend’s mother, Glory Braddock. Glory had insisted on choosing the place herself. She claimed it was for the view, for the space, for the convenience of being close to her daughter. Inside, the living room sprawled in clean, neutral tones, soft beige couches with chrome legs, a glass coffee table poised atop a white shag rug, and built-in shelves that framed a flat-screen television like an art installation. The flat screen currently is airing the daily news. One wall was all windows, looking out onto a manicured backyard where a narrow lap pool shimmered in the heat. There were potted orchids in the corners, delicate and precise, their blossoms a splash of magenta in the otherwise serene palette.

Clyde Sutter looked out of place in this carefully arranged setting, but not uncomfortably so; more like a man refusing to blend in, as a matter of principle. He sat with a sort of lazy command in one corner of the couch, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his arm draped over the backrest. Clyde was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with the quiet self-assurance of someone who’d survived more than one street fight. His long black hair was tied back into a loose ponytail. His black T-shirt was stretched slightly across his chest and paired with faded jeans that had seen better days. On his bare feet, a thin dusting of dirt from a walk around the pool clung stubbornly, a stark contrast to the polished floors beneath him. Everything about Clyde seemed to push against the setting, like a jagged edge against a polished surface. Yet there he was, completely at ease, a living defiance of aesthetic cohesion. His eyes, sharp and a little narrowed beneath dark brows, followed the ceiling fan lazily turning above. He was silent, but there was a charged stillness about him, like a lit fuse smoldering rather than burning.

Beside him sat Melinda Braddock, as graceful and poised as if she’d stepped out of a fashion editorial. She perched at the opposite end of the couch, legs crossed at the knee, back straight, fingers loosely interlaced on her lap. Her long, honey-blonde hair was perfectly brushed and gleamed like silk under the sunlight. She wore a pale pink dress that cinched at the waist and fanned out in soft pleats, paired with a delicate necklace that caught the light each time she tilted her head. Melinda had the kind of beauty that was deliberate, cultivated. She never wore anything by accident, never let herself be seen in anything less than poised perfection. Her makeup was understated but flawless, with a soft shimmer on her eyelids and a hint of rose on her cheeks. The contrast between her and Clyde was almost theatrical; like a princess who had fallen in love with a rogue from a different world entirely.

“It still annoys me how those fools in management let Syren get away with murder.” Melinda says in a whiny tone.

“Are you surprised, my love?” Clyde asks quietly. “Do you truly believe that Mr. Desoubrais would be fair when it comes to Syren, a known cohort of his during their days together as Infamous?”

“Yes but he has someone he answers to, doesn’t he?” Melinda says. “CHBK let his girls cheat, he let them use that chair on you on Breakdown, yet another example of his blatant favoritism. Whoever he has to answer to should step in and…”

“Calm down, my love.” Sutter responds, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You are getting upset for no reason. I was the one who lost on Breakdown but do you see me fretting? Do you see me throwing a tantrum?”

“I admit that you have been eerily calm.” Melinda states, arching a brow out of curiosity. “How can you maintain such composure when you’ve been screwed over by those damned con artists?”

“Have you forgotten everything that I taught you?” Clyde chuckles. “Remember, Fate is in control. Fate has designs for everything and everyone. No one can escape the plan that Fate has designed for them. Syren managed to defeat me. She ended her losing streak.” He shrugs his shoulders. “What’s the big deal? At the end of the day her Fate is still sealed. Her downward trajectory will still continue. She will not win Taking Hold of the Flame. She will not become SCW World Champion. She will continue to be irrelevant. A victory over me does not change that.”

“Fate…” Melinda nods her head “...yes, Fate is in control.”

“That is correct, my love.” He leans in and kisses her on her cheek. “I am but Fate’s Chosen Assassin, I work for Fate, not for SCW and definitely not for its foolish fanbase.”

“You’re right, of course.” Melinda sighs as she lets her head rest on his chest. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Clyde. I know you have tried to teach me about Fate and I do believe, I truly do, but I also hate seeing you getting screwed over the way you have by Syren…and then by Lawler before her…”

“Now it is my turn to tell you not to fret, my love.” Sutter remarks. “It is quite understandable and normal, human, to be concerned about someone you love and care for; besides, you are still relatively new to the truth of Fate.”

“I am committed to Fate…” she kisses him on his lips “...just like I am committed to you.”

“Good.”

“But…” Melinda grins knowingly “...what does Fate say about Taking Hold of the Flame?”

“Ah yes, that all important battle royal.” Sutter nods his head. “It is quite accurate to point out the importance of that event. Unfortunately the entire roster of Supreme Championship Wrestling gets it wrong year in and year out. They view that battle royal as their opportunity to change their Fate. But they are mistaken. No one can change their Fate. Taking Hold of the Flame is Fate’s way of playing with the emotions of the entire roster, making forty people believe that they have an opportunity only to destroy the dreams of thirty nine of them.”

“Yes, all of that is true.” Melinda touches Clyde on his nose. “But what about you? Where do you fit into this equation?”

“I fit in where Fate fits me in.” Sutter remarks with a cold grin. “I am what I have always said I am. I am Fate’s Chosen Assassin. Perhaps I will be the one to destroy the hopes and dreams of thirty nine others and go on to win Taking Hold of the Flame. And I swear to you, my love, if I do win the battle royal, I will go on and become SCW World Champion in the Rise To Greatness main event. And then I will bestow that championship onto you.”

“Clyde…” she starts to speak up but Clyde shushes her.

“Hush now. You deserve everything in this life. You deserve the world at your feet and, as long as I draw breath, I will make sure you get everything you want in life.”

“Clyde…” Melinda starts speaking again, but this time she points towards the television screen “...you might want to listen…”

“What is it?” Sutter turns his attention back to the television set. He can see a female news anchor seated at a news desk. The headline beneath her reads ‘Update in Cold Case’ and there is a picture of Archie Van Stanton next to her. Sutter instantly snatches the remote control and turns the volume loudly so that he can hear the anchor more clearly…

“AUTHORITIES HAVE RELEASED AN UPDATE ON THE COLD CASE MURDER OF ARCHIE VAN STANTON THAT OCCURED IN MIAMI YEARS AGO. AN ANONYMOUS TIPSTER INFORMED THEM THAT SUSPECTED MASTERMIND OF THE DRIVE BY SHOOTING THAT LEFT VAN STANTON DEAD AND MELINDA BRADDOCK SERIOUSLY INJURED, LILITH SUTTER, IS CURRENTLY HIDING OUT IN RUSSIA. AUTHORITIES CAN NOW CONFIRMED THAT THIS TIP IS TRUE. LILITH SUTTER HAS FLED TO RUSSIA AND…”

The Assassin instantly loses his cool. He uses the remote control to turn off the television and then he throws the remote across the room. Melinda Braddock turns and stares with wide eyed shock at Sutter. She looks somewhat incredulous that he would dare turn off the television.

“Hey! I was watching that!”

“What does it matter?!” The Assassin exclaims. “That anchor speaks of what the authorities know. But let’s speak of what the reality is; the reality is that the FBI, CIA, and any other law enforcement arm involved in this case will fail in their efforts to bring justice to the Van Stantons.”

There is a very real anger and rage in Clyde’s voice, one that Melinda has bore witness to in the past and would rather not see again. She gently rubs his chest and back, hoping to soothe the angry beast.

“Calm down, Clyde…” she says “....there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

“How can you be so calm?!” Clyde pulls away from Melinda. He looks at her with a sense of surprise. “My sister organized this hit. The hit targeted my half-brother, who happened to be your fiance. This hit could just as easily have killed you too because you were caught in the crossfire.”

“I know all of this.” Melinda says, nodding her head.

“So how the hell can you be so calm?!”

“Oh I am angry.” Melinda points out. “But what you fail to realize is that this is out of my hands, out of my control. Just like it’s out of your hands.”

“You are wrong.” Clyde insists. “If Joey and I track her down before the authorities do, then we will take care of this once and for all!” Sutter declares. “We will ensure justice is done!”

“How?” Melinda asks. “You’re going to drag your friend to RUSSIA? And then what? Kill her?!”

“Yes.”

“Do you hear the words coming from your own mouth right now?” Melinda asks. “Do you realize how crazy you sound? That kind of talk, those actions you are threatening, that’s exactly what your sister wants. She wants you to lose control. She wants you to become that monster again. Right now I do not see the man I fell in love with…” Melinda says quietly. Sutter instantly has a reality check upon hearing that last sentence from Braddock. He has lost control. He lost his cool. This is what Lilith wanted. He is falling into her trap.

“I…I’m sorry…” he says quietly.

“It’s ok, Clyde.” Melinda takes his hands and pats it comfortably. “Remember what you just told me about Fate?”

“Fate is in control.” Sutter says, nodding his head.

“That’s right. So trust in Fate. Be patient and calm down.”

“How?” Clyde asks. “I don’t know how…Archie was murdered, you were nearly killed, all because of my sister…”

“Don’t focus on all of those negatives. You need to focus on the positive things in your life.”

“You are asking a lot of me. There really aren’t many positive things in my life.” He looks up at Melinda, gazing deep into her eyes. “Except for you…”

“Me?”

“Yes, you are the one, singular bright spot in my life. You are the one person that has managed to keep me grounded, who has kept the darkness from tearing me apart. You alone have kept me from losing control, from losing all of the progress I have made over the years. You have kept me going, my love.”

“Oh well…good…” Melinda is somewhat taken aback but regains her composure, she knows that her most important job is to keep Sutter calm “...focus on me, then.”

“From the moment I set eyes on you I knew I wanted you but my rage caused me to lose you. I fought so very hard to gain some semblance of control over myself, just with the hope…not even a promise…that I might get a second chance with you.”

“And now we have that second chance.” Melinda says, smiling warmly. “And nothing is going to tear us apart, especially not your sister.”

“Quite right. But I do believe that it is time we take this to the next level…” he says. Melinda furrows her brow out of curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“Melinda Braddock…” he begins “...will you marry me?”

Tears begin to stream down Melinda’s face. This wasn’t what she was expecting. Still, just by looking into his eyes, she knows that this is the right time. Braddock nods her head emphatically.

“Yes!”

==========
May 31st, 2025
New Orleans, LA
On Camera
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The camera begins to roll and we see Clyde Sutter standing confidently in front of a pair of wooden double doors, exuding an imposing yet composed presence. The Assassin is a striking figure dressed in a sharp all-black ensemble. His tailored suit jacket fits snugly over a black dress shirt, and he sports a matching black necktie, giving him an appearance that is equal parts professional and intimidating. The all-black attire suggests a sense of authority, mystery, and a darker, more enigmatic persona. His choice of clothing is deliberate and speaks to someone who wants to project control and command respect without saying a word. His facial expression is what most vividly captures attention, a mix of sly amusement and subtle menace. He gazes to the side with eyes that seem to flicker with mischief, calculation, or perhaps even a brewing challenge. A half-smirk plays at his lips, and his brow is slightly furrowed, adding to the sense that he is inwardly amused by something only he understands. This expression contributes to an aura of danger cloaked in charisma. Clyde’s hair is pulled back into a tight topknot or bun, revealing a widow’s peak and emphasizing his intense gaze. The rest of his hair cascades down his back, giving him a rugged, almost warrior-like appearance. His full beard, well-groomed but thick, adds to this effect, framing his face in a way that underscores his physical presence and perhaps his rough-edged background.

Then, Melinda Braddock enters the scene from the right and takes her place next to The Assassin. Melinda Braddock evokes mystique and grandeur with an outfit that radiates vintage elegance and theatrical allure. She wears a deep-cut, halter-style black dress lavishly adorned with shimmering beads that cascade down her form in intricate patterns, catching and reflecting the light to create a mesmerizing texture. The plunging neckline draws the eye to the ornate, chandelier-like necklace that rests against her chest. Her look is further heightened by a pair of statement earrings that dangle beside her cheeks, echoing the opulence of her necklace and lending an additional element of refinement.

“You cannot change your own Fate.” Melinda says defiantly with a smug grin on her face. “You can delay it by running and that is the typical human response, is it not? We refuse to accept the hand that Fate has dealt us and so we run. We run as fast as we can. But eventually we tire out. Just like a vehicle, we run out of gas. We give out and we break down. Then Fate catches up to us. And then our Fate is sealed. It would be easier if we would just accept the hand that Fate has dealt us. It would be so much easier on you all if you would embrace your Fate. But no, you insist on fighting. You choose to believe the lie that you can change your own destiny. That is why this time of year, and in particular this specific match, is so very popular amongst the fans and the roster of Supreme Championship Wrestling. Taking Hold of the Flame is the night in which the competitors of this promotion try to change the trajectory of their careers in one night. Only to have their dreams destroyed year after year, again and again. You would think that after being disappointed time and time again that they would learn exactly what Taking Hold of the Flame really is…” she looks up at Clyde “...but they never learn, do they?”

“No, they do not.” Sutter remarks, shaking his head. “Therefore I shall educate them. I shall be the teacher who will illuminate them…physically, mentally, and emotionally…on what Taking Hold of the Flame really is; those veterans of Taking Hold of the Flame…people like Syren, Ms. Frost, Mr. Hudson…you have been a part of this event multiple times over and yet you refuse to accept the truth of what this event is all about. You choose to embrace the lie that you tell yourselves to make yourselves feel better. This lesson isn’t for you because you have all been tried and have been found to have been failures. This year will be no different when your hopes are dashed and your dreams turned into nightmares. This lesson is for those who are new to Supreme Championship Wrestling. Mr. Grant…The Monster Machine…Ms. Lecavalier…this lesson is for you because you have yet to participate in Taking Hold of the Flame. You have yet to experience this event. You are a virgin to this particular form of violence, violence that will ruin your both physically and emotionally. So listen and listen well as I educate you on what this battle royal really is.” The Assassin says coldly.

“Mr. Desoubrais would have you believe that in this one night any single person on the SCW roster can shock the world, can change their own destiny, and figuratively speaking punch their ticket to a SCW World Title Match in the main event of Rise To Greatness. He is lying to you and for once not because of his blatant favoritism towards Syren and her friends. Mr. Desoubrais is lying because even he refuses to acknowledge the truth of Taking Hold of the Flame. This event is not an opportunity and it certainly has nothing to do with hopes and dreams. Taking Hold of the Flame is Fate’s twisted sense of humor at play.” He chuckles. “Fate is dangling that golden ticket in front of forty individuals, giving them false hope that they all can become SCW World Champion, when in reality thirty nine of them will have their dreams ruined.” Sutter holds up a finger. “Taking Hold of the Flame is about ONE person, the thirty nine others are but merely cannon fodder. One person is the star while the rest of you are filler.”

“I am here to tell you the truth because I am not afraid of the truth. Unlike the rest of you who, whether knowingly or unknowingly, refuse to acknowledge it, I embrace my role in Fate’s grand plans. As a result, Fate has chosen me to be its Assassin. I am the one who enforces Fate’s will. Fate already has its designs for Taking Hold of the Flame. Everyone is needlessly worrying themselves over something that, alas, is but an inevitability. You cannot fight Fate and yet you will so desperately try to fight it.” He pats himself on the chest. “That is where I come in. As your educator, as your teacher, I will educate you violently in the battle royal on what Fate has planned for each and every single one of you. For thirty nine of you, this battle royal is going to be nothing except pain, heartache, and humiliation. But for one this battle royal will be a glorious moment of victory that will send them to the grandest stage, to the main event of Rise To Greatness where they will challenge for the SCW World Championship.”

“Here’s another lesson for you, boys and girls.” Melinda Braddock chimes in again. “Like my man said, there can only be one who will be rewarded by Fate with that beautiful victory in Taking Hold of the Flame. Only one out of the forty will get that World Title Match while the rest will suffer the physical pain of enduring the battle royal as well as the emotional and mental pains of loss and disappointment. But for that one who wins, it will be glorious.” She pats Sutter on the back. “And that one will be Fate’s Chosen Assassin. Why wouldn’t it be? Why shouldn’t it be? Clyde Sutter has been fiercely loyal to Fate for a very long time. While the rest of the competitors…who I shall just call cannon fodder…change their allegiances on a whim, often for amusement of the fickle SCW fans, Fate’s Chosen Assassin has always been loyal to Fate.” She smirks and then winks at the camera. “And to me.”

“Quite right, my love. Now I come to claim my reward. My reward come in the form of wrecking anyone who gets in my way in the battle royal, for I take great pleasure in breaking human bodies. I take pleasure in inflicting pain. And for this particular event where I am competing against thirty nine fools who have false hope and fake dreams, delusions of grandeur, I will take great pleasure in shredding those hopes and dreams and exposing those delusions in front of the entire world. But my greatest reward of all will be winning Taking Hold of the Flame. Those of you who mock and ridicule Fate, who refuse to accept Fate…when you bear witness to me as the final one left standing, with my arm raised in victory, with me in control of that figurative golden ticket that sends me to Rise To Greatness…you will all be forced to acknowledge that you are not in control, that you do not have the power. Fate has the power. Fate is in control.” He points a finger at the camera.

“And your Fate is sealed.”