SCW Underground Championship Breakdown Turmoil (Open to everyone)

[The Matt]

2 of 2
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February 15th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The living room of the mansion felt especially large in the late afternoon, when the sun began its slow descent and light filtered through the tall windows in long golden stretches. The ceilings rose high above, crowned with ornate molding that caught shadows in delicate patterns. Pale stone floors reflected the fading daylight, their polished surfaces cool and immaculate. Everything in the room spoke of intention and expense. The sweeping staircase at the far end curved upward with elegant restraint. The massive fireplace stood unlit, its carved mantle heavy with decorative vases and carefully arranged books that no one ever seemed to read. It was a room designed to impress visitors, not to comfort the people who lived inside it.

Kimberly Williams sat alone on one of the oversized sofas near the center of the space. The cushions swallowed her slightly, though she leaned forward instead of relaxing into them, elbows resting on her knees, hands loosely clasped. She wore faded blue jeans and a simple gray t shirt that hung loosely against her frame. The fabric was soft and worn from countless washes. Her feet were bare, tucked slightly beneath the edge of the sofa, toes pressed into the cool marble floor whenever she shifted. She was clutching her beloved plush penguin pal, Wasley, close to her chest as if he were a security blanket. In a way he was; he is one of the few close confidants The Woman Scorned still has. Her red hair was unstyled, falling naturally around her shoulders in uneven waves. The silence pressed in around her. The mansion had its own kind of quiet, heavy and expansive, different from the warmth of a smaller home. Even the faint ticking of a distant clock seemed amplified. Kimberly’s gaze drifted across the room without focus. She had not turned on the television. She had not opened a book. The sunlight crept slowly across the floor, marking time in a way she could not ignore.

There was a tiredness about her that went beyond physical exhaustion. Her shoulders sagged in a way that did not suit her usual restless energy. The spark that typically flickered behind her eyes was dimmed, replaced by something heavier and more distant. She ran a hand through her hair absently, fingers lingering at her scalp as if grounding herself in the sensation. For a long moment, nothing moved except the shifting light. Then she heard it. The unmistakable sound of the front door opening echoed faintly through the entry hall. It was a subtle noise, the quiet turn of a handle followed by the low swing of heavy wood. In such a vast space, even small sounds carried weight. Kimberly’s head lifted immediately. Her body stiffened before her mind had fully processed what it meant. She had not been expecting anyone. Her jaw tightened as footsteps followed, measured and unhurried, echoing against marble and stone. The rhythm was deliberate. Calm. Confident. Anger rose before she even saw him.

Lucian Floreschu stepped into view from the hallway that connected the foyer to the living room. He moved as though he belonged there, as though crossing the threshold required no permission. He was impeccably dressed, as always. A tailored dark suit fit him with precision, the jacket lying perfectly against his shoulders. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt gleamed clean and unwrinkled, collar sharp, cuffs immaculate. A silk tie in a deep muted tone rested neatly at his throat, tied flawlessly. His shoes were polished to a quiet shine, reflecting the faint gold of the setting sun. His dark hair was styled with care, not a strand out of place. His expression was composed, unreadable, almost serene. He carried no visible urgency, no hint of apology for his arrival. The space seemed to bend subtly around him, acknowledging his presence in the same way it acknowledged its own grandeur.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

Kimberly rose slowly from the sofa, her bare feet pressing firmly against the marble. The simplicity of her attire contrasted sharply with his immaculate presentation. She felt underdressed, but not embarrassed. If anything, the difference only sharpened her irritation. She folded her arms across her chest instinctively, posture rigid, chin lifting just slightly. The warmth of the late afternoon light now felt suffocating instead of comforting. The room that had moments ago seemed too large and too empty suddenly felt tense, charged with something unspoken and volatile.

“What’s wrong, Kimberly? Are you not happy to see your dear uncle?” Lucian says, chuckling. He may finds this humorous but Kim is enraged.

Kimberly’s eyes locked onto his, and the heaviness that had weighed her down only moments before shifted into something hotter and sharper. Whatever quiet sadness had lingered in the room retreated beneath the surge of anger that accompanied his presence.

“You act like this is funny but it isn’t.” Kim shakes her head. “You are doing everything you can to ruin my life.”

“So I take it you don’t like this exquisite mansion I gave you?”

“Don’t play dumb. You are isolating me from my friends and family. Tommy isn’t here, he doesn’t want to be here, because of what you are trying to turn me into. You are trying to turn me into something I’m not.”

“Crying and whining doesn’t really fit your style, Kimberly.” Lucian shakes his head. “You are the type who takes action. I am giving you the opportunity to have unlimited power and resources at your disposal. Wealth unimaginable. You are going to be my heir, Kimberly. I have already written you into my will. Upon my death everything in the Floreschu empire becomes yours. All of the resources and connections, all of that power…” he smirks “...do you really need your so-called friends and family?”

“Stop it.”

“That fat slob of a boyfriend…”

“I said stop.”

“Your bitch of a mother.”

“Stop.”

“That whore of a sister…”

That was the last straw. Kimberly takes Lucian down with a double leg take down, his back hitting hard on the floor. Kim mounts him and begins to rain down right hands until he starts bleeding from the nose. Lucian doesn’t panic; instead he starts laughing. The laughing only further infuriates Kim and she reaches into her pocket and produces a knife that she puts to his neck.

“There she is!” Lucian laughs. “There is the REAL Kimberly Williams! The monster my sister worked so hard to create! My sister’s creation, YOU kept her chained up, YOU pretended that she didn’t exist, but now here she is! Right before my very eyes! Go ahead, Kimberly, my NIECE,” the word niece gets under her skin, but Kim tries hard to restrain herself “do it. Kill me. It will be the final nail in your coffin. There will be no going back, no reforming, and no rehabilitation. You would be proving myself, Emma, and Sorinah right. In killing me you would be admitting that you are nothing more than a monster.”

Williams hesitates. She wants to kill him; and it would be so easy. She killed Emma. She killed Sorinah. She killed Marie’s abusive ex-boyfriend. What’s one more body to the list? But Kim knows that she has tried hard to change, to rehabilitate herself. If she takes Lucian’s life, she would be proving him right. So she reluctantly drops the knife and then slowly gets off of him. Lucian chuckles again as he pulls himself back up to his feet.

“So you don’t have it in you?”

“You’re wrong about me.”

“No, I am absolutely right about you.” He states. “I saw it in your eyes…the hate. The anger. The desire to kill. Do it, Kimberly. Prove me right. Do it!”

“No.”

“DO IT!”

Suddenly a loud gunshot rings out in the house. Lucian falls to the floor, limp, and blood starts coming out of his head, staining the floor. Kimberly is stunned as she watches the life wash away from his body. What the hell just happened? Williams turns around to see her own mother, Angelica Jones, stepping into the living room wielding a gun. Kim’s eyes grow wide with shock.

“Mom…how…”

“You’re not the only one in the family who knows how to sneak around and break into people’s homes.” Angelica says as she places the gun down on a nearby table. Angelica walks over and embraces her daughter in a tight hug. Despite herself and this tense situation, Kim cannot stop herself from crying.

“Did Marie tell you?”

“No, your sister never told me anything.” Angelica says. “I suspected Lucian was up to no good from the beginning. His sister stole you from me. Did you really think I would just take him at his word? I did research of my own.” She shakes her head. “Lucian isn’t as smart as he wants to think. I figured out pretty easily that he was blackmailing you. So I snuck in today so I could hear for myself what was going on.”

“I hate to say it, mom, but…” Kim lowers her head in shame “...he may be right about me. He had pushed me close to the edge. I wanted to kill him. Had he pushed me any further, I probably would have killed him.”

“I know.” Angelica nods her head. “That’s why I’m here…so that you wouldn’t have to bear that burden, so that you wouldn’t have to take another life and have that soul on your conscience.”

Kimberly Williams was nearly broken tonight by Lucian Floreschu. She grimly realizes that had her mother not intervened and killed him herself, then Kimberly may have taken his life, Kimberly may have once again given in to temptation. She may no longer be in fear of blackmail or being exposed by Lucian. She no longer is going to be controlled by him, but the reality is that she knows that Lucian is at least partially right; that dark creation, that monster she once was, it still exists, and The Woman Scorned, if she is not careful, could easily find herself falling back into that side of herself, a side that even scares herself.

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February 18th, 2026
Cleveland, Ohio
On Camera
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The evening sky over downtown Cleveland had settled into that deep blue hour just before full dark, when the last traces of sunset cling faintly to the horizon and the city lights begin to take over. The bright signage of Rocket Mortgage FieldHouse glowed boldly against the dimming sky, its illuminated panels reflecting off nearby glass and steel. The air carried a crisp edge, cool enough to sting the lungs slightly with each breath. Standing just off to the side of the main entrance plaza was Kimberly Williams, and she looked as though she had been dropped into the scene by pure chaotic energy. She was dressed in the simplest way imaginable, almost aggressively casual against the polished arena backdrop. A loose black t-shirt hung off her frame, slightly oversized, her jeans were well worn, light blue with natural creases at the knees and thighs, hugging her hips comfortably without any effort at style. The hems were frayed just enough to suggest she had owned them forever. On her feet were scuffed sneakers, the laces uneven, one tied tighter than the other as though she had done it while distracted. Her red hair was completely unbothered by vanity. It spilled around her shoulders in unruly waves, catching the glow of the arena lights and turning almost copper in places.

Clutched tightly against her chest was an oversized penguin plushie, soft and slightly lopsided from affection. A small tag near its wing read “Wasley” in thick marker, the name written with enthusiastic imperfection. Kimberly held her beloved and deadly pal with both arms as though it were both a prized possession and an accomplice in whatever mischief she might be planning. Her fingers curled into the plush fabric, squeezing it absentmindedly, occasionally lifting it slightly as if showing it the world. The contrast between her tough, tomboyish presentation and the enormous stuffed penguin was absurd in the most deliberate way.

“June of 2024 was the last time I held the SCW Underground Championship.” Kimberly says in a stoic, calm tone, which is eerily odd for a woman as eccentric and chaotic as Kimmy. “And since then, sure, I have occasionally went after other targets…indulged myself with the Adrenaline Division. Tried to become World Champion. But even during those times when it appeared as if my attention was elsewhere, the fact remains that my focus had never left from my one true goal, my one true passion in life…winning back the SCW Underground Championship.” The stoic calm finally gives way to a manic grin from The Woman Scorned. She looks down at her penguin and starts talking to it, almost half-expecting a response.

“Oh they tried to keep me away, didn’t they Wasley? They tried everything from multiple chamber matches, Colleen’s big butt fifty thousand times, most recently Polly’s dumbass thirty thousand times, they tried distracting me with the Adrenaline Title, they tried distracting me with the World Title, and most recently that Don Corleone reject Franky D is trying everything within his power to keep me away from my one precious prize, my Underground Championship. And y’know, Not So Nice Mr. D, at first I didn’t understand why you hated me so much. I didn’t get the prejudice. I mean, I am the number one merch seller in this company. The fans, or my Kimmymaniacs as I call them, absolutely adore me. Between me selling tickets and my merch selling out, I put money in that stupid ass pocket of yours. Why would you want to get rid of one of your most popular stars?” She taps herself on the head.

“Then it hit me! Last week on Breakdown it finally dawned on me…” she points a finger at the camera “...you hate the Underground Championship, you hate the Underground Division. You would like to see it done away with. So of course you would hate me and want to get rid of me because, let’s face it, I MADE THE UNDERGROUND DIVISION! I MADE THE UNDERGROUND CHAMPIONSHIP!” She cackles manically. “Well, at least this current version. In the past names like Rachel Foxx and Brittany Lohan made this title. Then it was brought back intended for Jordan Majors but I have a habit of upending the best laid plans of mice and men. I took that title meant for Jordan and made it mine. I could have slinked away back into hiding after losing it to Lucas Knight but I refused to die. Instead I kept fighting, I won it back again and again. I revitalized and revolutionized this championship. I did something that no one previously ever did and no one has done since…I got the Underground Championship defended in the main event of a pay per view alongside the World Title. I gave PRESTIGE to a title that most thought was worthless, including you Fatso Franky. I would win that championship FIVE TIMES, tying the record currently held by Rachel Foxx.” Kim motions to the arena behind her.

“Tomorrow night, chaos will reign supreme as the Underground Title is decided and I guarantee that I will do anything and everything within my power and ability to finally break that record, make myself a six time…or more, depending on how many title changes there are…champion. After tomorrow is over there will no longer be any doubt as to who made the Underground Title what it is today and god damn it you are looking at her. And that also happens to be the reason you want to get rid of me. Right, Franky Doo? That’s why you are sending that whore Polly after me? You know, the bitch who is so damned lame that she has to shove her head up your ass to get any opportunities since she cannot earn any on her own merit. The same Polly who cannot read or understand a word of spoken English because despite my explaining it in words so simplistic that a rock could understand, she still somehow thinks that I am a proud Jones using my Jones influence to get ahead. Newsflash, dummy, my last name is Williams. My family actually tried to blacklist me from the business for the first few years of my career. So go ahead with your dumbass narrative because it makes no sense.” Kim smirks nastily.

“THIS is the person you’re sending after me, Franky? Quite honestly you should have backed some other horse because she cannot and will not get the job done. The fact that you are backing her in tomorrow night’s chaos is sad and pathetic. It shows how desperate you are. You know, just like I know, just like everyone else on this roster knows, that the Underground Division NEEDS Kimberly Williams, it NEEDS the Queen of the Death Match, and if I am not around, then it becomes oh so much easier for you to get rid of it, to just nice and easily sweep it under the rug. You want to get rid of the Underground Division because you have to control everything, don’t you Franky? And the Underground Division is something you cannot control.” She laughs.

“If we’re being totally honest, that’s what really pisses you off about the match CHBK booked. You don’t want me to become Underground Champion but the mathematical odds of me leaving with the gold are not very good. You should be thrilled that I have such a high mountain to climb in order to take back what is rightfully mine. Yet you’re pissed off not because I have the opportunity but because you have no control. NO ONE in this match tomorrow night has control because the match itself is steeped in pure and unadulterated chaos. Chaos cannot be reasoned with, you cannot negotiate with it, chaos just happens. There is no such thing as controlled chaos. This match is my wheelhouse, quite literally. Not only is it pure chaos but it is very similar to the match of my creation a couple years ago when I won Trios. We all remember how THAT worked out don’t we?” Williams smirks knowingly.

“I built my career and reputation off of chaos, and I am perfectly content with letting everything ride on the outcome of chaos once again tomorrow night on Breakdown in Cleveland, Ohio. I am content because I am an agent of chaos and I understand that with chaos sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t, but chaos is always fair. You hate it because you cannot control it. All you can do is sit back and hope that your bimbo bitch Polly or ANYONE ELSE on the roster can get the job done and keep the Underground Title away from me!” Williams shakes her finger at the camera.

“Oh but this is the Underground and I THRIVE in this environment. I THRIVE when my back is against the wall but chaos is reigning supreme. So get down on your knees and pray, you and everyone else on the roster should get down and PRAY because the Queen of the Death Match is coming to take her pound of flesh and maim anyone who stands in her way!”