05-23-2025, 10:04 AM
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May 24th, 2025
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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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.”
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May 26th, 2025
Charlotte, NC
Off Camera
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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.”
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May 24th, 2025
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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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.”
![[Image: XJiTNy0.png]](https://i.imgur.com/XJiTNy0.png)
Career Achievements
MWE Television Champion 2x
MWE Riot Champion 1x
GCW World Tag Team Champion 1x
SCW Television Champion 1x
MWA World Tag Team Champion 2x