02-25-2026, 10:11 AM
1 of 2
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February 19th, 2026
Cleveland, Ohio
Off Camera
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The noise of SCW Breakdown had finally begun to fade, but it had not disappeared completely. It lingered in the walls of the Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse, caught somewhere in the steel beams and concrete corridors that had absorbed thousands of voices only an hour earlier. Backstage felt different after a show ended. The urgency was gone, replaced by a strange combination of exhaustion and restless energy. The air carried the mixed scents of sweat, athletic tape, hairspray, and the faint metallic trace that always seemed to accompany a wrestling ring after battle. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a pale, unforgiving glow.
Melinda Braddock stood near a long production table pushed against the wall, her posture composed despite the physical toll of the night. She was still dressed in her ring attire, though she had made small adjustments to restore a sense of polish. Her gear leaned toward elegance even in combat. The fabric was sleek and carefully tailored, hugging her frame with precision. The color caught the light subtly, refined rather than flashy, giving her an air of sophistication that contrasted with the brutality of what she had just endured in the ring. Fine detailing traced the edges of the material, delicate but intentional, reinforcing the sense that everything about her presentation was curated. Her boots, laced tightly to just below her knees, were scuffed now from the match, the pristine finish dulled by contact with canvas and opponent alike. A faint sheen of perspiration still touched her skin, though she had brushed her almost platinum blonde hair back into place. Strands framed her face in controlled softness, and even under harsh backstage lighting she carried herself with the same measured grace that defined her presence in the spotlight. There was fatigue in her eyes, but it was contained, filed neatly behind discipline.
Fiona Logan stood a few feet away, leaning against a concrete wall with one shoulder pressed back as though she needed something solid to brace against. Her ring gear told a different story. It carried a harder edge, darker tones and sharper lines that emphasized power over refinement. The material was functional and resilient, built to endure impact rather than present elegance. Subtle wear from the match was more obvious on her, faint streaks and creases marking where the fight had taken its toll. Her boots were heavier, designed for force, their soles leaving faint marks on the floor as she shifted her weight. Her black hair had come partially loose during the match and now fell around her shoulders in uneven strands, framing a face that had not yet relaxed from competition. There was tension still coiled in her posture, the adrenaline not fully drained. Her hands flexed once at her sides, as though replaying moments in her mind. Even in stillness, she radiated intensity.
Clyde Sutter stood slightly apart from both women, near a stack of production crates that had been pushed against the far wall. His presence was quiet but commanding. He too remained in his ring gear, though he had removed any extraneous layers. The attire was dark and deliberate, clean lines accentuating his well built frame. His boots were planted firmly on the concrete floor, laces tight, leather dulled by the night’s contest. His long black hair hung loose now, no longer secured for battle, strands resting against his shoulders. A faint bruise had begun to form along his jawline, and there were subtle signs of strain in the way he held himself, but his expression remained composed. Stoic. Controlled. His breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm, the storm of the match reduced to quiet reflection. He did not pace or fidget. He simply observed, eyes steady, taking in the aftermath.
The corridor around them felt both crowded and isolating. Voices echoed in the distance, laughter from one direction, frustration from another. A rolling equipment case clattered briefly over uneven flooring before disappearing around a corner. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed shut, the sharp sound cutting through the ambient hum before fading again.
“Well that was a particularly chaotic waste of time…” Fiona says, her voice trailing off, but it is clear that The Boston Badass is very disappointed in her own performance, as well as the performance of her companions Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter, at tonight’s Breakdown. It was a unique opportunity for one of them to leave as the SCW Underground Champion. The three of them worked together as a unit and yet not once did any of them win the title.
Not even one singular reign to their name.
The Boston Badass values results and results, for her, means victories and championship gold. Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter, on the other hand, seem to be not very bothered by the events of the evening. Then again, The Third Generation Goddess and The Harbinger of Fate would not be bothered. They put all of their trust in Fate. If the Underground Title was not meant to be then it was simply not meant to be.
“Melinda, you must learn patience. Other opportunities will come.”
“Oh yeah? And when? When will these opportunities come?”
“In due time.” Clyde answers. “Fate has the answers, we merely do its will.”
“Ok, guys, I love you both, but I’m sick of all this fatalism crap.” Fiona rolls her eyes. “Seriously, look at us, we are the MWCW Tag Team Champions and MWA World Tag Team Champions. We are an actual proven tag team. But who are the reigning champs? Selena Frost and Xander Valentine, two idiots who can’t even get along! They aren’t a tag team. They are a circus thrown together for the entertainment of CHBK.” She motions to herself and Melinda. “WE should be tag champs, not them.”
“Fiona…”
“And another thing!” Fiona continues, ignoring Melinda. “You talk of opportunities, right? Why are those glorified strippers who don’t even work here getting Underground Title opportunities? The Order of the Chest? Seriously?” Fiona sighs out of frustration. “Like I said, WE ARE the only real tag team in this division.”
Melinda Braddock smiles, one that almost seems to articulate pity. She approaches Fiona and places a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“Fiona, my dear, I know you desire success, fame, and championships. But look at how quickly you have had earned success in professional wrestling; you were not born into this business as I was and yet your championship resume matches mine already. You are currently a double champion like me. And I know we could have had so much more if tonight had gone differently, but I remind you that you must have patient and trust in Fate.”
“There’s that word again…” Fiona sighs “...Fate…”
“Yes, Fate. Fate is already at work and has designs for The Vision.” Melinda remarks. Fiona arches a brow out of curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“Next Breakdown.” She smirks. “You and I will face The Shinigami Foundation. It will be yet another opportunity to prove our worth in the eyes of the powers that be and, perhaps, earn a shot at the SCW World Tag Team Championship.”
“We shouldn’t have to PROVE ourselves to anyone.” Fiona scoffs. But then she pauses and a smirk forms on her face. “But y’know, if it means taking my frustrations out on a couple of dweebs by cracking their skulls wide open? I’ll take it!”
“I knew that would cheer you up.” Melinda chuckles as she pats Fiona on the back.
The Boston Badass does appear to be slightly happier now that the news of The Vision’s match against The Shinigami Foundation was revealed. Fiona enjoys the thrill of the fight. The news that she is scheduled to compete has indeed lifted her spirits. Then she hears her phone vibrating. Fiona pulls it out and looks at it. Fiona sighs.
“Crap…”
“What is it?” Melinda asks.
“It’s Todd.” Fiona says, referring to Todd Osbourne, her former foster father. “He’s still trying to contact me. I’m just gonna block his number…”
Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter exchange a look and then turn to look back at Fiona. Both have been concerned for Fiona ever since Todd Osbourne returned. Fiona had been tormented by who everyone thought was a stalker but it turned out to be Todd Osbourne, Fiona’s former foster father who had manipulated and used her as a child, forced her into modeling to take advantage of her beauty and make money off of her. Now Todd is back, claiming he has changed, claiming he wants a relationship with his ‘daughter’ but Fiona is having none of it. To be honest, Fiona has been distracted ever since his return and Melinda and Clyde both cannot help but notice.
“Fiona? Are you ok?” Melinda asks.
“No…” she shakes her head as she puts the phone away “...honestly, my natural reaction towards him is hatred. Anger.”
“I can understand.”
“No, Mels, you don’t.” Fiona says, shaking her head. “He used and manipulated me. He never cared for me, he never loved me. He only saw dollar signs. Part of me wants him to leave and never be a part of my life again.” She sighs. “But another part of me does believe in second chances and, y’know, maybe Todd does deserve a second chance?”
“I agree with you.” Melinda nods her head. “People are entitled to a second chance but only if they can prove that they have changed. Take my own experiences; my biological father ran out on my mother after she became pregnant with me, forcing her to raise me alone. Both mother and I were enraged with him and when he returned to our lives, neither wanted to give him a chance.”
“And?”
“And he proved us wrong.” Melinda states. “He stepped up and helped both of us when we needed it. He was never demanding, never forceful, he just did everything he could to prove that he was ready to step up and be the father he always should have been. Now my father, my biological father that is, is a very important part of my life.”
“Sure, yeah, great, that’s a nice fairy tale there, Mels,” Fiona’s voice drips with sarcasm “but how the hell can I make Todd prove himself to me?”
“It could be simpler than you think.” Melinda answers. “Just give him a chance. Meet him someplace, public obviously, or just talk to him on the phone or by text message. Whatever or however you decide, just make sure you hear what he has to say before jumping to any conclusions about Todd.”
“You really think that’s all I need to do?”
“What could it hurt?” Melinda asks. “It might be the very thing that makes him go away.”
“Yeah?” Fiona smirks. “Well that’s all I really want; him to go away and leave me alone.”
“Ahem, if I may chime in,” Clyde remarks, stepping forward to get the attention of Fiona and Melinda “as much as I hate disagreeing with my beloved, I fear I must disagree with her on this particular subject.”
“What is it, Clyde?” Melinda asks.
“Yeah, you think contacting Todd is a bad idea?” Fiona asks.
“My beloved argued based on her own family experiences, so I shall argue based on my own.” Sutter begins. “I only recently began learning about my own past about my biological father.” He casts a knowing gaze at Melinda and then back at Fiona. “And as my love will confirm, some of the information I have learned about my family is rather…disturbing.”
“Disturbing?” Fiona asks. Clyde nods his head. “So, uh, what are you trying to say, big guy?”
“Clyde, it might help her to confront her past.”
“True.” Sutter says. “I am not denying that. I am merely saying that sometimes ignorance is bliss. Ignorance would have been bliss in my case. I wish I could still have been ignorant of my past. Perhaps ignorance should be bliss for Fiona?”
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February 19th, 2026
Cleveland, Ohio
Off Camera
==========
The noise of SCW Breakdown had finally begun to fade, but it had not disappeared completely. It lingered in the walls of the Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse, caught somewhere in the steel beams and concrete corridors that had absorbed thousands of voices only an hour earlier. Backstage felt different after a show ended. The urgency was gone, replaced by a strange combination of exhaustion and restless energy. The air carried the mixed scents of sweat, athletic tape, hairspray, and the faint metallic trace that always seemed to accompany a wrestling ring after battle. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a pale, unforgiving glow.
Melinda Braddock stood near a long production table pushed against the wall, her posture composed despite the physical toll of the night. She was still dressed in her ring attire, though she had made small adjustments to restore a sense of polish. Her gear leaned toward elegance even in combat. The fabric was sleek and carefully tailored, hugging her frame with precision. The color caught the light subtly, refined rather than flashy, giving her an air of sophistication that contrasted with the brutality of what she had just endured in the ring. Fine detailing traced the edges of the material, delicate but intentional, reinforcing the sense that everything about her presentation was curated. Her boots, laced tightly to just below her knees, were scuffed now from the match, the pristine finish dulled by contact with canvas and opponent alike. A faint sheen of perspiration still touched her skin, though she had brushed her almost platinum blonde hair back into place. Strands framed her face in controlled softness, and even under harsh backstage lighting she carried herself with the same measured grace that defined her presence in the spotlight. There was fatigue in her eyes, but it was contained, filed neatly behind discipline.
Fiona Logan stood a few feet away, leaning against a concrete wall with one shoulder pressed back as though she needed something solid to brace against. Her ring gear told a different story. It carried a harder edge, darker tones and sharper lines that emphasized power over refinement. The material was functional and resilient, built to endure impact rather than present elegance. Subtle wear from the match was more obvious on her, faint streaks and creases marking where the fight had taken its toll. Her boots were heavier, designed for force, their soles leaving faint marks on the floor as she shifted her weight. Her black hair had come partially loose during the match and now fell around her shoulders in uneven strands, framing a face that had not yet relaxed from competition. There was tension still coiled in her posture, the adrenaline not fully drained. Her hands flexed once at her sides, as though replaying moments in her mind. Even in stillness, she radiated intensity.
Clyde Sutter stood slightly apart from both women, near a stack of production crates that had been pushed against the far wall. His presence was quiet but commanding. He too remained in his ring gear, though he had removed any extraneous layers. The attire was dark and deliberate, clean lines accentuating his well built frame. His boots were planted firmly on the concrete floor, laces tight, leather dulled by the night’s contest. His long black hair hung loose now, no longer secured for battle, strands resting against his shoulders. A faint bruise had begun to form along his jawline, and there were subtle signs of strain in the way he held himself, but his expression remained composed. Stoic. Controlled. His breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm, the storm of the match reduced to quiet reflection. He did not pace or fidget. He simply observed, eyes steady, taking in the aftermath.
The corridor around them felt both crowded and isolating. Voices echoed in the distance, laughter from one direction, frustration from another. A rolling equipment case clattered briefly over uneven flooring before disappearing around a corner. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed shut, the sharp sound cutting through the ambient hum before fading again.
“Well that was a particularly chaotic waste of time…” Fiona says, her voice trailing off, but it is clear that The Boston Badass is very disappointed in her own performance, as well as the performance of her companions Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter, at tonight’s Breakdown. It was a unique opportunity for one of them to leave as the SCW Underground Champion. The three of them worked together as a unit and yet not once did any of them win the title.
Not even one singular reign to their name.
The Boston Badass values results and results, for her, means victories and championship gold. Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter, on the other hand, seem to be not very bothered by the events of the evening. Then again, The Third Generation Goddess and The Harbinger of Fate would not be bothered. They put all of their trust in Fate. If the Underground Title was not meant to be then it was simply not meant to be.
“Melinda, you must learn patience. Other opportunities will come.”
“Oh yeah? And when? When will these opportunities come?”
“In due time.” Clyde answers. “Fate has the answers, we merely do its will.”
“Ok, guys, I love you both, but I’m sick of all this fatalism crap.” Fiona rolls her eyes. “Seriously, look at us, we are the MWCW Tag Team Champions and MWA World Tag Team Champions. We are an actual proven tag team. But who are the reigning champs? Selena Frost and Xander Valentine, two idiots who can’t even get along! They aren’t a tag team. They are a circus thrown together for the entertainment of CHBK.” She motions to herself and Melinda. “WE should be tag champs, not them.”
“Fiona…”
“And another thing!” Fiona continues, ignoring Melinda. “You talk of opportunities, right? Why are those glorified strippers who don’t even work here getting Underground Title opportunities? The Order of the Chest? Seriously?” Fiona sighs out of frustration. “Like I said, WE ARE the only real tag team in this division.”
Melinda Braddock smiles, one that almost seems to articulate pity. She approaches Fiona and places a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“Fiona, my dear, I know you desire success, fame, and championships. But look at how quickly you have had earned success in professional wrestling; you were not born into this business as I was and yet your championship resume matches mine already. You are currently a double champion like me. And I know we could have had so much more if tonight had gone differently, but I remind you that you must have patient and trust in Fate.”
“There’s that word again…” Fiona sighs “...Fate…”
“Yes, Fate. Fate is already at work and has designs for The Vision.” Melinda remarks. Fiona arches a brow out of curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“Next Breakdown.” She smirks. “You and I will face The Shinigami Foundation. It will be yet another opportunity to prove our worth in the eyes of the powers that be and, perhaps, earn a shot at the SCW World Tag Team Championship.”
“We shouldn’t have to PROVE ourselves to anyone.” Fiona scoffs. But then she pauses and a smirk forms on her face. “But y’know, if it means taking my frustrations out on a couple of dweebs by cracking their skulls wide open? I’ll take it!”
“I knew that would cheer you up.” Melinda chuckles as she pats Fiona on the back.
The Boston Badass does appear to be slightly happier now that the news of The Vision’s match against The Shinigami Foundation was revealed. Fiona enjoys the thrill of the fight. The news that she is scheduled to compete has indeed lifted her spirits. Then she hears her phone vibrating. Fiona pulls it out and looks at it. Fiona sighs.
“Crap…”
“What is it?” Melinda asks.
“It’s Todd.” Fiona says, referring to Todd Osbourne, her former foster father. “He’s still trying to contact me. I’m just gonna block his number…”
Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter exchange a look and then turn to look back at Fiona. Both have been concerned for Fiona ever since Todd Osbourne returned. Fiona had been tormented by who everyone thought was a stalker but it turned out to be Todd Osbourne, Fiona’s former foster father who had manipulated and used her as a child, forced her into modeling to take advantage of her beauty and make money off of her. Now Todd is back, claiming he has changed, claiming he wants a relationship with his ‘daughter’ but Fiona is having none of it. To be honest, Fiona has been distracted ever since his return and Melinda and Clyde both cannot help but notice.
“Fiona? Are you ok?” Melinda asks.
“No…” she shakes her head as she puts the phone away “...honestly, my natural reaction towards him is hatred. Anger.”
“I can understand.”
“No, Mels, you don’t.” Fiona says, shaking her head. “He used and manipulated me. He never cared for me, he never loved me. He only saw dollar signs. Part of me wants him to leave and never be a part of my life again.” She sighs. “But another part of me does believe in second chances and, y’know, maybe Todd does deserve a second chance?”
“I agree with you.” Melinda nods her head. “People are entitled to a second chance but only if they can prove that they have changed. Take my own experiences; my biological father ran out on my mother after she became pregnant with me, forcing her to raise me alone. Both mother and I were enraged with him and when he returned to our lives, neither wanted to give him a chance.”
“And?”
“And he proved us wrong.” Melinda states. “He stepped up and helped both of us when we needed it. He was never demanding, never forceful, he just did everything he could to prove that he was ready to step up and be the father he always should have been. Now my father, my biological father that is, is a very important part of my life.”
“Sure, yeah, great, that’s a nice fairy tale there, Mels,” Fiona’s voice drips with sarcasm “but how the hell can I make Todd prove himself to me?”
“It could be simpler than you think.” Melinda answers. “Just give him a chance. Meet him someplace, public obviously, or just talk to him on the phone or by text message. Whatever or however you decide, just make sure you hear what he has to say before jumping to any conclusions about Todd.”
“You really think that’s all I need to do?”
“What could it hurt?” Melinda asks. “It might be the very thing that makes him go away.”
“Yeah?” Fiona smirks. “Well that’s all I really want; him to go away and leave me alone.”
“Ahem, if I may chime in,” Clyde remarks, stepping forward to get the attention of Fiona and Melinda “as much as I hate disagreeing with my beloved, I fear I must disagree with her on this particular subject.”
“What is it, Clyde?” Melinda asks.
“Yeah, you think contacting Todd is a bad idea?” Fiona asks.
“My beloved argued based on her own family experiences, so I shall argue based on my own.” Sutter begins. “I only recently began learning about my own past about my biological father.” He casts a knowing gaze at Melinda and then back at Fiona. “And as my love will confirm, some of the information I have learned about my family is rather…disturbing.”
“Disturbing?” Fiona asks. Clyde nods his head. “So, uh, what are you trying to say, big guy?”
“Clyde, it might help her to confront her past.”
“True.” Sutter says. “I am not denying that. I am merely saying that sometimes ignorance is bliss. Ignorance would have been bliss in my case. I wish I could still have been ignorant of my past. Perhaps ignorance should be bliss for Fiona?”
![[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