Kimberly Williams vs. Syren

[Konrad Raab]

Number One Contendership to SCW World Championship

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: WEDNESDAY, December 17, 2025 at 11:59:59 pm ET (NOTE THE DEADLINE – this is for both shows)

[The Matt]

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December 6th, 2025
Dallas, Texas
Off Camera
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Earlier tonight on SCW Breakdown Kimberly Williams picked up a victory over Chris Lawler in the Shot of Adrenaline Tournament, placing her closer to the finish line, closer potentially to making the semi-finals. Normally a professional wrestler would be quite pleased with a victory of this magnitude. Normally any time a victory is achieved that brings a smile to the face of a competitor, especially when it has to do with a tournament.

Kimberly Williams is NOT a normal professional wrestler.

The Queen of the Death Match has been enraged since the Shot of Adrenaline Tournament was announced. She did not want to be a part of it and only played her role when she was Adrenaline Champion. When she lost the title to Dexter Grant she wanted out and thus far has found no way of escaping this tournament. While certain competitors such as Spencer Pryce and Chris Dumont have found an exit, Kimberly Williams has been forced to continue. Tonight she had to compete against Chris Lawler. Tonight she made Chris Lawler submit to Scorned which puts her closer to the Shot of Adrenaline semi-finals. This only serves to agitate the demented ginger even further because she has no desire to reclaim the Adrenaline Title. She has two goals on her mind:

Win the SCW Underground Championship for a record sixth time.

Win the SCW World Championship to make herself a Supreme Champion.

The Underground Title still proves elusive but at least she does find herself within reach of a shot at the SCW World Championship. If she can win her match at Shattered Reality, she will become the number one contender. The best part of this situation is that she is facing a woman she absolutely hates in Syren. Not only does Kimberly get to earn a title match, not only does she get to deny Syren a title match, but she gets the opportunity to maim Syren all in one swift stroke.

Still, Kimberly is chaos personified and despite having at least one of her goals within reach, the psychotic ginger is still frustrated that the other two aspects of her SCW career, namely the Adrenaline Tournament and the Underground Title, are not going her way. It falls upon her mother and agent Angelica Jones to try and keep the Queen of Chaos under control. That proves to be nearly an impossible task.

The lobby of the Omni Dallas Hotel sprawled like a cathedral built for commerce and comfort, all gleaming marble and warm ambient light that poured down from a massive geometric chandelier suspended three stories above. The air carried the mingled scents of fresh orchids from the towering arrangements on the concierge desk, faint espresso from the bar tucked in the far corner, and the crisp, almost metallic note of luxury that expensive hotels always seem to manufacture out of nowhere. Near the center of this careful opulence stood two women who looked as though they had wandered in from entirely different novels. Kimberly Williams, The Queen of the Death Match, wore scuffed black combat boots laced with mismatched neon shoelaces, one lime green, one hot pink, and a pair of men’s cargo pants so covered in pockets they looked like they could survive a month in the wilderness without resupply. Over a faded WASLEY penguin t-shirt she had thrown an oversized olive-drab military jacket decorated with enamel pins: UFOs, cryptids, a tiny embroidered patch that read “Trust No One” in dripping red letters. She was pacing in constant motion, shifting her weight from foot to foot, fingers drumming against her thigh in a rhythm only she could hear, eyes darting everywhere at once. Every reflective surface got a quick, suspicious glance, every passing bellhop earned a stare that lingered half a second too long. A thin sheen of perspiration glistened at her temples despite the aggressive air-conditioning; excitement or paranoia, impossible to tell.

Ten feet away stood Angelica Jones. Her hair was the same fiery red as her daughter’s, but where Kimberly’s looked like a bonfire, Angelica’s had been persuaded into an elegant low chignon that caught the light like burnished copper. A cream silk blouse with a pussy-bow neckline was tucked into a dove-gray pencil skirt that ended precisely at the knee, no more, no less. Her patent nude heels were the exact shade of her skin, giving the illusion that she floated an inch above the marble. A single strand of South Sea pearls rested against her collarbones, and the only color on her came from the deep emerald drop earrings that flashed whenever she turned her head. She held a small structured handbag in both gloved hands, yes, gloved, pale gray kid leather, as though the bag might try to escape if not properly restrained. Angelica’s posture was perfect, spine straight, chin level, expression serene in the way only very expensive women can manage when surrounded by chaos. The faint smile on her lips suggested she found the entire world mildly amusing but not quite worth the effort of genuine laughter. Every so often her gaze flicked toward Kimberly with the resigned fondness of someone who had long ago accepted that her daughter had been assembled on a different planet.

Between them stretched a silence thick enough to require its own zip code. Kimberly’s restless energy crackled against Angelica’s stillness like static electricity looking for a victim. Guests flowed around them in eddies, businessmen in tailored suits checking watches, a gaggle of bridesmaids in matching blush dresses clutching garment bags, a lone teenager filming everything on his phone, yet the two redheaded women somehow managed to carve out an island of tension in the middle of all that polished bustle.

“Kimberly, can we talk?”

“Talk about what?” Kimberly asks, with a hint of frustration in her voice. “Let’s talk about how Spencer Pryce gets to exit the tournament for no reason but I still have to participate!

“Already told you, Spencer was injured.”

“What about Chris Dumont? He gets to have someone replace him?”

“Kim…” Angelica shakes her head.

“I made it perfectly clear. I do not want anything to do with this Shot of Adrenaline Tournament. Yet I am watching some participants drop like flies and yet I have to stay? I have to continue being the good little trooper?” She shakes her head. “It isn’t fair! You know what else isn’t fair? Enigma had AGREED to give me a shot at the Underground Title. He agreed BEFORE Old Macdonald came along and stuck her nose into our business. It isn’t fair that Xander Valentine gets an Underground Title Match before I do simply because Old Macdonald says so!”

“Kim…”

“And it isn’t right that the most horrible person on planet earth gets to be in the SCW World Title conversation just because of her name. She’s Syren and she gets whatever the hell she wants. I represent the people. I represent those who Syren steps on to get to the top. I represent those who Syren screws over to get to the top. And at Shattered Reality I am not just going to take away her dreams of earning a world title shot, I am going to take away her career. I am going to slaughter the bitch!”

“Kim!” Angelica exclaims, her shout draws the attention of some passersby but it also serves the purpose of quieting her eccentric daughter. The Woman Scorned frowns.

“What?”

“I know what you want; you want out of the Shot of Adrenaline. You want an Underground Title shot. I am doing everything I can to get you what you want. But try to stay positive. You wanted a world title shot? I got you there! All you have to do is beat Syren at Shattered Reality and you get it!”

“Yeah, yeah, small victories I suppose.” Kim rolls her eyes. “Leaving Syren in a bloody mess would make my heart leap for joy!” She smirks. “Oh ok, I’ll keep playing along…for now…but you keep working on getting me out of this dumb Shot of Adrenaline Tournament.”

“Sure, you know, what get yourself injured…” sarcasm drips from Angelica’s voice “...find someone to break your arms or legs or something and I am pretty sure I can convince CHBK to remove you from the tournament.”

“Wait…” Kim furrows her brow in confusion “...I suggested that and you said it was a bad idea?”

“It is a bad idea!” Angelica exclaims. “I am being sarcastic!”

“Oh, right.” Kim snickers. “See, when I say stuff like that I usually mean it.”

“Look,” Angelica sighs as she rubs her temple “ignore the distractions. Ignore what bothers you. Ignore Shot of Adrenaline and the Underground division because right now you have no control over either. The one thing you DO have control over is the SCW World Championship conversation.”

“I can keep Syren out and put myself in.”

“Exactly. Focus on that.”

“And I can eliminate Syren from professional wrestling!” Kim exclaims happily.

“Don’t go overboard.” Angelica sighs. “You don’t want to get disqualified and waste your opportunity. Besides, I think you should have listened to what was on that tape. Ravyn…”

“...is a liar!” Kim exclaims, as if finishing her mother’s sentence for her. “You remember how she and Syren manipulated and conned Marie, don’t you?”

“Yes, I remember.” Angelica nods her head. “But that was years ago. People change.”

“You tell me this as if I care.” Kim says grimly. “No one hurts my sister without some sort of payback. Payback in blood. I will not settle for anything less than their heads on a pike.”

“You’ve been on this never ending revenge quest for years, Kim, all on behalf of your sister, and it’s sweet…in a twisted, demented sort of way…but did you ever stop to think if your sister would even WANT you to do this on her behalf?”

Over by the entrance, the automatic doors whooshed open again, admitting a gust of warm Dallas air and another wave of travelers dragging suitcases. The noise of the city, distant horns, the rumble of a light-rail train, filtered in for a moment before the doors closed and the lobby swallowed it. Kimberly and her mother are too caught up in their own intense discussion to notice a man, wearing a silk button up dress shirt, black dress pants, and black shoes, approaching the pair. His hair is black as night and he has a grin, bordering smug, etched across his face. He swaggers over to The Woman Scorned and The Dragon with his air of confidence, as if he doesn’t care who he is about to confront, or not knowing what he is about to interrupt.

“Good evening, ladies.” The man remarks, instantly getting the attention of Kimberly and Angelica as the pair turn to face him. Angelica looks annoyed but Kim, on the other hand, appears playful, like a predator ready to play with her meal.

“This isn’t the time.” Angelica insists, shaking her head. “Me and my daughter were just leaving.”

“Oh don’t be such a wet blanket, mom!” Kim retorts. “Obviously this is a fan and as The People’s Champion, I always make time for my Kimmymaniacs!”

“Well, uh,” he starts to talk but Kim interrupts.

“What can I do for ya? Do you want me to sign a photo? Sign a book? Sign your butt cheeks? Sign a severed head? I’ll sign anything you got! But if you bring me a severed head my mom will likely report you to the authorities. She’s all about law and order.”

“Kim!”

“Relax, mom, I’m sure he doesn’t have a severed head.” Kim turns to the man and arches her brow out of curiosity. “You don’t have a severed head, right?”

“No.”

“Good!” Kim grins happily.

“But also I am not a fan…at least not in the way you think…I mean, I am well aware of your wrestling career, Ms. Williams, you too Ms. Jones. But that is not what attracted me to you.” The man reaches into his pocket and produces a business card. He hands it to Kim. She studies it carefully and then looks back up at him.

“Realtor?”

“That’s right, I am a realtor.” He extends his hand. “You can call me Lucian.”

“Lucian what?” Kim asks curiously.

“Just Lucian will do.” He says with a confident grin. “All of my friends do.”

“You’re not my friend. Yet. Unless you want to try to kill me?” She grins devilishly. “I always befriend those who try to kill me.”

“Uh, I don’t think that will be necessary…” he laughs nervously. Kim shakes her head.

“Then we’re not friends.”

“Calm down, Kimmy.” Angelica pats her on the back, hoping to calm her eccentric daughter. Angelica then looks up at Lucian. “What is it that you want?”

“Well as I said, I am a realtor and that is how I came to know your daughter. Her involvement in real estate in the Boston area, where I also operate, has intrigued me. Her business operation is noble; how she tries to put low income, needy individuals in modestly nice homes.”

“Oh so you’re trying to muscle in on my action eh?” Kim asks. Lucian shakes his head.

“I would never ‘muscle in’ as you put it.” He shakes his head. “I do think that we could have a brilliantly successful partnership.”

“Look, Lucian,” Angelica sighs out of frustration “you may want to talk business with my daughter, but now is neither the time or the place. Real estate is her side gig. She is primarily a professional wrestler and she just got back from competing. We’re not particularly in the mood for fans right now, let alone total strangers who want to do business.”

“Come on, mommy,” Kim says playfully as she breaks free from the grip Angelica had on her shoulder and then proceeds to circle Lucian like a shark circling its next meal “what’s wrong with a little predatory business practice? Maybe me and Lucian can take over the world!”

“Just the Boston real estate market.” Lucian says softly, correcting her.

“You need to aim higher!” Kim exclaims. “Why conquer the Boston real estate market when we can take over the world? Then maybe I can force CHBKLMNOP to take me out of the dumb Shot of Adrenaline Tournament by imposing tariffs? It seems to work for other tin pot tyrants.”

“Don’t tell me you are actually entertaining this nonsense?!” Angelica asks. Kim shrugs her shoulders.

“Why not? Sounds like fun!”

“Before you two make any rash decisions, perhaps you would like to know what kind of homes I typically deal with.” Lucian reaches back into his pocket and produces one single photograph. He hands it to Kimberly. She takes one look at it and her entire demeanor changes. One might say the entire environment goes cold. Angelica doesn’t notice. She takes the photograph out of her daughter’s hands, looks at it, and sees a spectacularly fancy, almost regal palace like home. Jones shakes her head and gives the photo back to Lucian.

“I think you are mistaken.” Angelica says. “Kim doesn’t deal with homes THIS opulent…”

Meanwhile The Woman Scorned has been stewing. Her temper is still boiling over for reasons that are unknown. She finally looks straight into Lucian’s eyes with a glare that could only be described as pure hatred.

“Leave.”

“Excuse me?” Angelica is surprised to hear Kim basically growl like that. Lucian, however, seems to be unbothered by it, almost as if he expected this reaction.

“I said leave!” She shouts angrily.

“Very well, I shall leave.” He chuckles. “But, Ms. Williams, you really should contact me. My phone number is on the back of the card.”

Lucian chuckles. He turns and strolls away, unbothered and unaffected by Kimberly’s outburst. The Woman Scorned never lets her eyes leave this stranger. Angelica, however, is very much bothered, moreso by her daughter’s reaction than by the stranger himself. It is rare that she sees Kim react this way and when she does, it is never good. Once Lucian is out of site, Angelica waves her hand in front of Kim’s face to get her attention, breaking the trancelike state The Queen of the Death Match had been in.

“Uh, Kimmy?” She says. “Earth to Kimmy? What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Are you ok?”

“No…” She shakes her head “...I mean yes. I mean, I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Kim.” Angelica sighs. “We can’t just ignore the fact that a total stranger who claims to operate his real estate business out of Boston was so hell bent on finding you and doing business with you that he tracked you down here to Dallas to talk business. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? And then the way you reacted to him just then?”

“So what?” Kim shrugs her shoulders, feigning innocence. “He’s a creep. Big deal.”

“No, it’s not just that.” Angelica shakes her head. “You know something and you’re not telling me.”

“No, I don’t.” Kim shakes her head. “Trust me, mom. I’m fine.”

Kimberly storms away. Angelica heard her daughter say that she was fine, that she should trust her. She heard Kim claim that she knows nothing about Lucian. But any mother worth her salt knows when their child is lying. She knows Kimberly is lying. She just doesn’t know why. What is Kimberly’s connection to Lucian?

[Syren]

Almost forgot to post this before going to sleep. Don't want to do that again! Wrote the original RP over the weekend/Monday, but then came up with this last night in bed and rewrote the whole thing today. Really happy with this one. It continues the current stories while also adding a new one for the future.

Enjoy.



The Syren Song: Verse 413
"Lexy? Your… dildo is here?"

[The Matt]

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December 8th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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Kimberly Williams had always been the sort of person who approached the world with equal parts reckless confidence and restless unease, and the long drive up the quiet, tree lined Massachusetts roads only sharpened both edges. The early evening haze hung over Boston like a soft veil, tinting everything in a gray blue melancholy. Her little red car, battered, loud, impulsive, like its owner, crunched over the perfectly manicured gravel of the mansion’s winding drive. The estate rose ahead of her like something out of an old ghost story: steep stone walls, long windows glowing pale gold, and a roofline that cut harshly through the sky. Nothing about it felt welcoming, but all of it felt intentional, which in Kimberly’s world was far more concerning. She killed the engine, the sudden silence pressing in on her like a held breath. For a few moments she stayed behind the wheel, staring up at the grand facade. The mansion looked too untouched, too still, as if it had been waiting for her specifically, clearing its throat and straightening its posture the moment her headlights touched it. A prickle crawled up the back of her neck. She could handle chaos, entropy, even the threat of violence, those were familiar companions. But anticipation, that uncanny sense that the world already knew what she was about to do? That was something else entirely.

When she finally stepped out, the air greeted her with a crisp bite, tinged with the faint scent of distant chimney smoke and wet autumn leaves. Kimberly shoved her hands into the pockets of the long emerald green coat she wore over a mismatched tangle of layers. Her hair, an unruly tangle of vibrant red curls, bounced around her shoulders with every sharp, purposeful step toward the front entrance. She moved like someone ready for a fight, though whether with a door, a person, or the building itself was anyone’s guess. The front door towered over her, tall, polished, and built to intimidate. She had already run through a mental checklist of how many kicks it might take to break in, how many seconds she would need to slip inside before security was alerted, whether she’d need to climb in through a window instead. Kimberly thrived on worst case scenarios; they made her feel grounded. So when she turned the handle and found it unlocked, swinging inward with a soft sigh, her stomach tightened with immediate suspicion. It wasn’t just unlocked. It felt… inviting. Expectant. As though someone had opened it ahead of time and stepped back, waiting for her to cross the threshold.

“Well isn’t this something…” Kim’s voice trails off “...the door is open. It should be locked but it’s open. Now if I were a smart Kimmy I would leave because this obviously means no good.” She snickers. “But no one accused me of being smart!”

Inside, the air changed. The temperature settled into something warm and perfumed, like sandalwood and old books. The floors gleamed beneath an ornate chandelier that dripped crystal droplets of light across the entryway. The silence wasn’t empty; it was curated, like a museum after closing. Every shadow seemed placed with intention. Every object seemed too precisely where it belonged. Kimberly felt herself instantly out of place, a colorful splatter of chaos dropped into a perfectly composed painting. She moved deeper into the mansion, her boots soundlessly brushing across an expensive rug that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. The hallway stretched long and elegant, lit by sconces shaped like golden torches. Along the walls, portraits of stern faced ancestors stared down with the judgmental serenity of people who had never experienced a truly bad day in their lives. Kimberly gave them only a passing glance. She wasn’t here for the dead.

“Ok now if I were a mysterious, potentially dangerous real estate agent, where would I be?”

The Woman Scorned is referring to the stranger known only as Lucian. She met him at Breakdown. He claimed he operated out of right here in Boston, her hometown, and he tracked her to Dallas where she had competed on Breakdown against Chris Lawler. That, in and of itself, raised some red flags. Why did he care about her so much that he would track her down as opposed to just waiting for her to return to Boston? Then he had a photograph of a home, this specific home that Kimberly herself now finds herself inside. Something about that home seemed familiar, all too familiar to The Queen of the Death Match. She recognized this place and it frightened her. Nothing ever frightens Kimberly but this did. Who is Lucian and what does he want with her? These are answers Kim needs.

At the end of the hall, the space opened into an opulent living room, grand enough to feel like the heart of the mansion. High ceilings arched above her, carved with designs that looked almost occult. The room was a study in contrast, dark mahogany furniture paired with pale marble floors, heavy drapes framing tall windows that offered a view of the city skyline beyond, shimmering faintly as dusk melted into night. A fire roared in the stone fireplace, casting amber light across the room and sending long, wavering shadows rolling over the furniture. And waiting within that glow, positioned as though he had been sitting there for hours without ever shifting, was the man she had come for.

Lucian.

His hair was jet black, styled with an ease that suggested either wealth or vanity, and his suit was impeccably tailored, absorbing the firelight in rich, dark tones. He sat with the sort of posture that suggested control was less a choice and more an inherent trait. Even from across the room, Kimberly could tell he had known exactly when she would arrive, exactly how she would enter, exactly what expression would flicker across her face when she saw him. The room felt smaller with him in it. Tighter. More deliberate. As if everything in the mansion had been arranged around this moment, around her stepping into the lion’s den with her heartbeat quickening and her mind racing in a dozen directions at once. Kimberly paused at the threshold of the living room, absorbing the scene, feeling the weight of whatever she had just walked into settling over her like a velvet shroud.

“Ah, there you are.” Lucian says, his voice an aura of arrogance, confidence. “You had me concerned. I thought you had lost your way. Then again, I do think you have lost your way, if you catch my drift.”

“Nah, not me.” Kim shakes her head. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“That remains to be seen.” Lucian motions to a comfortable sofa by a lovely fireplace with a marble mantle. “Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss.”

“I’d rather stay standing.” Kimberly says stoically. “It’s easier to defend myself if I’m already on my feet.”

“True but you can believe me when I say that I am not going to hurt you.” He smirks. “At least physically.”

“Forgive me for not buying that.” Kim’s usual jovial tone is not present, not in the slightest. She feels threatened and her tone reflects that. “Back in Dallas you showed me a photograph of this place, a place that is very special to me but not for the right reasons.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Kim remarks. “So tell me, do you even know where the hell we are?!”

“Of course but first you tell me, do you know who I am?”

“I know you are a realtor.” She remarks. “You are either a lousy one or a corrupt one at that if you think you’re going to sell this place because it’s not for sale.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

“Because I know whose home this is!” Kim snaps angrily. “This home belonged to Emma Floreschu, MY late guardian, and she left it to me in her will! So it belongs to me!” She points a finger at Lucian. “So how did you come to learn about this place? Come to think of it, how the hell did you get inside?! And tell me who are you…really?!”

“Well, Ms. Williams, you are indeed a brilliant young woman, as brilliant as advertised.” Lucian says with a sugary sweet tone. “I am a realtor, that much is true, and my real estate connections is how I found you. But I haven’t told you everything about me. You see, I was able to enter this home because your guardian was my late sister.”

Kimberly’s eyes grow wide with surprise as she takes in this information. Lucian snickers and nods his head.

“That’s right, my full name is Lucian Floreschu. Your guardian Emma, your former agent Sorinah, both of whom YOU murdered…they were my sisters.”

“So you’re a Floreschu?” Kim asks. Lucian nods his head. Kim snickers. “Wow! How many of you are running around? You people multiply like rabbits!”

“Thanks to your murderous ways I am the last.” Lucian remarks coldly.

“The last one, huh?” Kim grins evilly. “I never did wipe out an entire family line before. There’s a first time for everything though!”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Lucian scoffs. “I doubt you have the stomach to do it.”

“Are you ready to bet your life on it?” Kim asks menacingly.

“I would, as a matter of fact. I did my homework before I dared approach you. I know of your reputation and of your body count…not only have you murdered my sisters but you murdered a Mr. Damian Toole, your twin sister’s abusive ex-boyfriend.”

“If you know how dangerous I am then why are you here?” Kim asks with a menacing grin on her face.

“You are dangerous, my sister Emma is responsible for turning you into the psychotic monster you are today. But ever since you reunited with your biological family…the Jones family…ever since you have had that strong desire to fit in with them, to be beloved by society and by the fans, your desire to find love with your boyfriend Tommy, all of this has tamed the beast my sister had created. You are capable of killing me but you won’t because you know that, in doing so, you will let all of those people down. But while you cannot threaten me, I can most certainly threaten you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is no statute of limitations on murder.” He smiles devilishly. “And I have the evidence to prove that you murdered Damian Tool, my sister Sorinah, and my sister Emma. If that evidence were to see the light of day, it would be enough not just to convict you but you would likely get the death penalty.” He chuckles. “The Trump Administration does enjoy the death penalty.”

There is a long tense pause as Kimberly Williams and Lucian Floreschu stare each other down intensely. The Woman Scorned isn’t sure what to do. She isn’t even sure if there is anything she can do. Finally Kim just sighs, as if admitting defeat.

“So is that what this is about?” Kim asks curiously. “Is this about ruining me?”

“I do not want to ruin you.” Lucian shakes his head. “Quite the opposite. I am here to fulfill my deceased sister's dying wish.”

“Oh God…” Kim rolls her eyes.

“Don’t fret, Ms. Williams. Both of my sisters saw in you as the rightful heir to their legacy. Especially Emma.” He smiles coldly. “Emma forged you into a psychotic beast with the skills to destroy anyone. You were so dark and cruel that you kidnapped your own twin and took her place.”

“Not exactly my best memory.” Kim remarks. “That landed me time in the loony bin.”

“Be that as it may, you were my sister’s favorite to the bitter end. She and Sorinah both wanted you to follow in their footsteps. Thus I shall ensure that you do.”

“And how exactly is that going to happen?” Kim asks.

“You will take your place as my niece. You will work with me to continue Emma and Sorinah’s mission. As long as you play your role and do exactly as I say, I will not turn you over to the authorities.”

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December 12th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera
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The December wind cut across the Boston Common. Most of the leaves had already given up and lay in damp, bruised heaps along the paths, the ones still clinging to the branches rattling like loose teeth. The city had emptied out for the afternoon. The Common, for once, belonged to the gulls and the squirrels and the occasional jogger who looked like he was running from something he couldn’t name.

Kimberly Williams stood alone near the Parkman Bandstand, the weak sunlight catching the copper in her hair and turning it into something dangerously close to fire. She had dressed that morning the way some people armor up for battle: a Boston Red sox road jersey, gray and faded just enough to prove it was real, layered under an old New England Patriots hoodie that had lost its drawstring years ago. Over that, a Bruins winter classic scarf looped twice around her neck. On her head, a slightly crooked Boston Celtics cap. The whole outfit should have looked like a yard sale exploded on her body, but somehow, on Kim, it just looked inevitable, like she’d been born wearing it and the clothes had simply grown with her. In her arms she cradled Wasley, a three-foot emperor penguin plushie who was just as deadly as he was adorable.

“Greetings Kimmymaniacs! I welcome you to my home of Boston, Massachusetts!” She grins from ear to ear. “Do you think I’m overdoing it? I mean, Wasley thinks I might be overdoing the whole hometown hero shtick a bit but I don’t think so. The city of Boston is a city of champions! Just ask the Celtics and the Patriots! Ask Tom Terrific! Drake Maye! We are a city of winners and when the pressure is at its greatest, we always rise to the occasion! It isn’t often that I get to compete in front of my hometown in a match that means so much to me. It isn’t often I get to show my hometown people in person that I am a champion, that I am a winner, just like each and every one of them, that I deserve the right to be called CHAMPION just like the Red Sox, the Celtics, The Bruins, and The Patriots! My match could have landed on either night of Shattered Reality but it happened to land on the night where we will be right here in Boston so you had better believe that I am absolutely ecstatic!”

“The last time I was here in Boston for a match of this magnitude was at Body Heart and Soul 2024, I was stepping up to the plate to challenge James Evans and on that night in Boston I drove an explosive into his eye, beat him to reclaim MY SCW Underground Championship, and helped to bring an end to his little cult The House of James. Tomorrow night at Shattered Reality will be almost as important but for different reasons.” The Woman Scorned pats herself on the chest.

“People look at me and they see one of two things…either a death match psycho or a fun loving entertaining clown…maybe a little bit of both? And y’know, I don’t deny that I am both of those things. I am the Queen of the Death Match. I do love to entertain each and every one of my fans, the Kimmymaniacs. They brought me to the dance, they have stuck by my side through the good times and the bad, when I was at my lowest they brought me back up and reminded me why I do not ever give up. So entertaining the great people who support me is the least I can do. But if you sit there and think that enjoying a little bloodshed and carrying around a stuffed penguin somehow disqualifies me from being worthy of being recognized as one of the best to ever do it then you are wrong. You are dead wrong. And unlike some self-conscious narcissists who need the spotlight, I do not need to prove myself to anyone. I have already proven just how good I am and how I can hang in any damn situation SCW puts me in. I am a former Trios Tournament Winner. I have won every championship this company has to offer except for one and that is the SCW World Championship.” A sinister grin forms across her face.

“Yeah, I think its about time I won THAT particular title and complete the Supreme Championship. I would love to be the one to maim and cripple Cid Turner. I would love to have a lovely reunion with Jimbo Evans! Maybe this time we actually can kill each other? But whether its Cid or whether its Jimbo, I will beat either one of them and become SCW World Champion.” Kimberly frowns. She shakes her head. “But winning a coveted prestigious title belt isn’t the only motivation I have; I have one other driving force that motivates me tomorrow night at Shattered Reality.” The Woman Scorned holds up one finger.

“Syren…” she laughs nastily “...you think the whole damn world revolves around you, don’t you? All you have to do is whine and cry enough, shout loudly enough, remind anyone who will listen that your name is Syren and you think you will eventually get what you want. I suppose it works sometimes. I mean, how is it that SCW forgot all about that agreement you had with Xander that you would have to win ten straight matches before you were to ever be back in the world title conversation? I seriously doubt that I am magical opponent number ten and yet here we are, where you can earn a title shot by just beating me. Your egregious sense of entitlement makes me want to puke but what pisses me off even more about you is how the rest of the world is just supposed to forgive and or forget all about the crimes you committed in the past! We’re supposed to just believe you are a changed person! You are good Syren now!” She shakes her head.

“Bullshit.”

“Unlike you I am no hypocrite. I do not run from my past, I do not try to hide it, I do not try to make people forget about my past. I know I am a monster but I do not pretend to be anything else. You are just a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You have lied, cheated, and stole your way to the top too many times to count. But your biggest mistake ever was manipulating my family, specifically my sister. I do not like entitled brats like you, I do not hypocrites like you, and I do not like a wolf in sheep’s clothing like you. You may have a lot of people fooled but not me. I see right through you, Syren. Monsters can see other monsters and I can see the monster that you are.”

“My motivation tomorrow night isn’t just to earn a shot at the SCW World Title and get that chance to earn Supreme Title status. Tomorrow night is my duty, my obligation to SCW and every single one of my Kimmymaniacs to make sure that you get nowhere near the SCW World Title. CHBK, out of obvious bias and favoritism towards you, is gifting you an opportunity that you do not deserve. So I have to do everything within my power to make sure you do not get the chance.”

“Do you want to know how serious I am, Syren? Do you want to know how badly that I want this title shot, not just for myself but also to make sure you don’t get it? I am so god damn serious that I am going to bring out that dark side of my soul. I am going to dig down deep and unleash that devil inside of me, that devil incarnate. Because the happy go lucky fan friendly Kimmy isn’t willing to do what is necessary. The devil, however, she is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure TWO very specific things happen tomorrow night at Shattered Reality…” she holds up two fingers.

“One, I will beat you and become the number one contender to the SCW World Title. And TWO, I will maim you, break your god damn neck if I have to, just to make sure you never again threaten SCW.”

[Syren]

Second RP, and it was a fun way to end 2025.

Enjoy.



The Syren Song: Verse 414
"Apparently I brood recreationally now"