Kimberly Williams w/ Deanna Frost at ringside vs. Dawn Lohan

[The Matt]

2 of 2
=====

==========
April 21st, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

The Phoenix Marie Jones’s home carried a very different kind of quiet than most places in Boston. It was not the hollow silence of an empty building or the heavy stillness of something abandoned. It was curated silence, intentional and maintained, the kind that came from careful living and an appreciation for order. Every detail in the living room reflected that sensibility. The space was bright and elegant, anchored by tall windows that let in soft morning light filtered through sheer white curtains. The sunlight settled gently across polished hardwood floors, catching on the edges of carefully chosen furniture and giving everything a subtle glow. The color palette leaned toward soft neutrals, warm creams, pale grays, and hints of gold that added just enough richness without overwhelming the space. A large area rug stretched beneath a sleek coffee table, its pattern understated but clearly expensive. Everything felt balanced, nothing out of place, nothing left to chance.The sofa itself was a statement of quiet luxury, upholstered in a smooth, light fabric that looked as though it had never been subjected to anything more aggressive than a neatly folded throw blanket. A pair of matching armchairs flanked it, angled just enough to suggest conversation without disrupting the room’s symmetry. Decorative pillows sat in perfect arrangement, their textures varied but coordinated, soft velvet beside fine linen. On a nearby console table, framed photographs had been arranged with thoughtful precision. Family moments captured in stillness, a younger Sean Connor Jones, Marie’s son, smiling in one frame, Marie poised and composed in another. A small vase of fresh flowers added a hint of color, their scent faint but present, mingling with the clean, almost airy fragrance of the house itself. It was a room that spoke of control, of taste, of someone who found comfort in refinement.

And in the middle of it, Kimberly Williams sat trying very hard not to ruin the illusion. She had taken a place on the sofa, though even sitting still felt like an act of performance. Her posture was more upright than usual, shoulders drawn back, legs crossed carefully at the knee. It was not how she naturally held herself, and the effort showed in small, almost imperceptible ways. Her fingers occasionally twitched against the fabric of her skirt, and her foot shifted slightly before she caught herself and stilled it again. Her outfit was unmistakably her sister’s influence. She wore a fitted blouse in a soft ivory tone, the fabric smooth and structured, tucked neatly into a tailored skirt that fell just below her knees. The material was refined, hugging her frame in a way that emphasized elegance over comfort. A slim belt cinched at her waist added to the polished silhouette, and her shoes, modest heels, rested neatly on the floor instead of being kicked off as she would have preferred. Her red hair had been styled, or at least made to appear styled. The usual wildness had been tamed into smoother waves, parted more deliberately, framing her face with a level of control she rarely tolerated for long. Even her makeup had been adjusted, subtle but precise, softening her features into something more composed, more like Marie. The resemblance between the sisters was already striking. Like this, it became almost uncanny. At a glance, in the right light, with the right posture, she could pass for her twin.

The previous night was the formal pajama ball. The Woman Scorned was the star of the hour as she enjoyed humbling the once great and refined Floreschu Estate. Kimmy knows that she must now turn her attention back to SCW, for soon she will be traveling to Melbourne, Australia to compete against Dawn Lohan. And The Queen of the Death Match had every intention of making that effort today; but late last night she learned that her nephew, Sean Connor Jones, would be returning today after spending time overseas in London, England to begin his training at the Braddock Wrestling School. Kimmy adores her nephew and cannot resist the opportunity to have this reunion and play a joke at the same time.

Kimberly caught her reflection faintly in the glass of one of the framed photographs and had to resist the urge to smirk. The whole thing felt ridiculous and brilliant at the same time. There was a playful tension in her expression, a barely contained excitement that threatened to break through the composed mask she was trying to maintain. Her eyes, though softened by makeup, still carried that familiar spark, that chaotic edge that no amount of refinement could fully erase. She leaned back slightly, then quickly corrected herself, remembering that Marie would never sit like that. The adjustment made her exhale quietly, a small release of energy that she immediately suppressed. This was a performance, and she intended to commit to it fully.

The house remained still around her, the distant hum of the city barely audible through the windows. Time seemed to stretch as she waited, every second heightening the anticipation. Somewhere deeper in the house, a clock ticked softly, marking the slow approach of the moment she had been planning. Kimberly’s gaze drifted toward the front door, her expression sharpening just a little as she imagined it opening. She pictured the look on Sean’s face, the split second of confusion before realization set in. The thought alone made her lips twitch, the beginnings of a grin threatening to break through her carefully practiced composure. She straightened again, smoothing the fabric of her skirt with deliberate care, forcing herself back into the role. The room remained elegant, untouched, perfectly arranged. And in the middle of it, Kimberly Williams sat disguised as her sister, waiting with barely contained excitement for the moment her plan would unfold.

It is at that very moment that the deranged ginger hears the door beginning to unlock. Only Marie and Marie’s son Sean would have keys and Marie is going to be gone the entire day. Kim grins from ear to ear as she realizes that now is the time for fun.

“And awaaaaaay we go!” Kim snickers as she waltzes over to the door. She makes her approach just in time to see her twenty year old nephew, fresh off the beginning of his own professional wrestling journey, crossing the threshold and into the home. His brown hair is tussled, messy. He is wearing faded jeans, sneakers, and a long sleeve New England Patriots logo hoodie. He turns his attention to his Aunt Kim and, based on the look on his face, the joke appears to be working perfectly so far…

“Mom?” Sean appears confused.

“What’s wrong, Sean? Didn’t expect me to be in my own home?”

“Well, not that,” he shrugs “I just thought you told me that you would be busy all day, you told me to let myself in.”

“Oh please.” Kim rolls her eyes. “When was the last time I was ever honest with you?”

“Uh…”

“I am a busy woman nowadays, but I’m never too busy for my son.” Kim states. “And believe me, life is very busy for someone posing nude for magazines.”

“What?!”

“Uh-huh,” Kim nods her head “I mean, your Aunt Kim already did it and pinned it on me. So I figured why the hell not? I might even start an OnlyFans and make money off of this drop dead sexy gorgeous body of mine.”

“Aunt Kim…” Sean says as a look of realization washes over his face. Kimberly either doesn’t detect it or she’s ignoring it as she goes on with her act.

“Yes, your Aunt Kim, MY SISTER, the greatest champion ever produced by the Jones Family. Do you know she gets to travel to Melbourne, Australia and wrestle a kangaroo?”

“Aunt Kim…”

“Ok, so maybe Dawn Lohan isn’t a kangaroo but she still might very well be a marsupial. But the point is she gets to travel the world while I get to stay here, alone, as the world’s greatest prude.”

“Aunt Kim!” Sean’s voice is louder this time. Kim reacts.

“What? I mean, no…I mean…your Aunt Kim isn’t here. There is no Kim, only Zuul.”

“That was funny, Aunt Kim, you had me convinced there for a moment.”

The Woman Scorned grins from ear to ear. She finally decides to drop the act.

“You think so? Because you spent nine months in her belly and then twenty years living with her. I wasn’t sure I could convince you.”

“Well you did have me going for a moment.” Sean shakes his head. “But mom would never pose nude for any magazines or open an OnlyFans.”

“Yeah, you’re right, she’s too much of a prude.” Kim kicks off her heels, grateful the act is over and she can remove the ridiculous shoes. “So tell me, kiddo, how did you enjoy London and, specifically, how did you enjoy the Braddock Wrestling School?”

“It was great, Aunt Kim!” Sean exclaims. “I met awesome people and learned so much…”

They make their way over to the living room, Sean talking all the way. Kimberly listens intently to every word Sean has to say about the beginning of Sean’s wrestling journey. He sounds genuinely excited about the future. Unfortunately this means Sean will likely be pursuing a career in professional wrestling going forward, which is not what his mother wanted, and it is definitely not what the Matriarch of the family, Angelica Jones, wanted. Lucky for Kim, she will always be supportive of her nephew. Inside the living room they approach the sofa. Kim sits down first, followed by Sean.

“Doesn’t it sound great, Aunt Kim?”

“It sure does, kiddo, and I know you’ll make a great wrestler some day.”

“Thanks!”

“But…just a piece of advice…tone down the wrestling talk just a smidge. Trust me on this one, your mom is still having difficulty accepting that this is what you want to do with your life. She means well, she’s just overprotective at times. Y’know what I mean?”

“I get it.” Sean nods his head. “And I did miss mom and I missed you.” He leans in and gives Kimmy a big hug. Even a psychopath like The Woman Scorned is touched by this emotion.

“Awww, you’re hitting all the soft spots, kiddo.”

“So what have you been doing, Aunt Kim?”

“Nothing much.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Just a little bit of this and that.”

“I refuse to believe you’ve been doing nothing while I was gone.”

“You know me too well.” Kim winks. “Well, for starters you just got home from being overseas, but I’m about to travel to Australia to compete at SCW Hubris against Dawn Lohan.”

“Australia? Wow!”

“Uh-huh…” Kim nods her head “...and my life outside the ring is busy too. I started a hamster and penguin sanctuary in this stuffy old estate I inherited. Oh and I joined a neighborhood watch.”

“A neighborhood watch?” Sean snickers. “You?”

“I know, I know, I’m the type of person neighborhoods watch out FOR, but trust me, it’s really fun!” Kim playfully salutes him. “I even got to be Commander in Chef.”

“Don’t you mean Commander in Chief?”

“Not with the food they serve.” Kimmy smirks knowingly.

==========
On Camera
==========

The backdrop was as plain as it could possibly be, a smooth expanse of neutral gray stretching out behind her with no texture, no detail, nothing to distract from what stood in front of it. The lighting was even and soft, flattening shadows and giving everything a clean, almost studio like stillness. It was the kind of setting that seemed designed to strip away context, leaving only the subject and whatever energy they brought with them. Kimberly Williams filled that empty space without any effort at all. She stood upright, though not rigidly so, her posture loose and natural in a way that felt entirely her own. There was always a sense with her that she could not fully commit to standing still, and even here that restless energy showed itself in small, subtle shifts. Her weight leaned slightly to one side, her shoulders relaxed, her stance grounded but never stiff. She looked comfortable, like someone who had no interest in performing for the setting around her and every intention of simply existing in it.

Her outfit was unmistakably hers. The Woman Scorned wore a worn black t shirt that hung loosely over her frame, the fabric softened by time and repeated wear. Her jeans were equally well worn, a medium blue with natural creases and faint fraying at the edges, fitting comfortably without any effort at polish. On her feet were a pair of scuffed sneakers, laces tied unevenly, the soles marked by long use. Her red hair fell freely around her shoulders, unstyled and unapologetic. It framed her face in uneven waves, catching the light just enough to bring out its natural brightness against the muted gray behind her. A few strands rested across her forehead, others tucked themselves behind her ears without much thought. It gave her a look that was effortless and a little wild, as though she had simply shown up exactly as she was without considering how it might appear.

In her arms, held firmly against her chest, was Wasley. The large penguin plushie looked almost comically oversized compared to her frame, its rounded body soft and slightly misshapen from years of being carried around and handled without much care for maintaining its original form. Its black and white fabric stood out starkly against the neutral background, and its bright orange beak and feet added small bursts of color that made it impossible to ignore. Wasley’s stitched face wore its permanent smile, a simple expression that somehow managed to feel both cheerful and slightly ridiculous at the same time. One of its wings bent slightly outward, as though it had been pulled or squeezed one too many times, and the fabric along its side showed faint signs of wear. It looked like something that had been dragged through countless situations and had simply accepted its role in all of them.

Kimberly held it securely, one arm wrapped underneath its body, the other draped casually across its front. Her fingers pressed lightly into the plush material, absentmindedly adjusting her grip now and then. The way she held it was not delicate or careful. It was familiar. Comfortable. As though carrying around a large penguin was the most natural thing in the world. Her expression completed the picture. There was a hint of a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth, something playful and knowing that never quite settled into a full smile.

“Dawnie, Dawnie, Dawnie…” Kimberly laughs slightly “...your family and I go way back. Well, at least your sister and I do. Abi and me, we became the best of friends the same way most normal people do; we tried to maim and butcher one another, we shed each other’s blood all over the countryside, and after that we became besties. That’s how it works with normal people, right? And I really do hope it will work out that way for you and I, Dawnie. I hope that after Hubris is over, after we are finished with our epic battle and after I am done knocking some sense into that skull of yours, you and I can be besties just like me and Abi.” Williams shakes her head.

“The problem is that you are making mistakes, Dawnie. Unfortunately that seems to be your thing, isn’t it? You make mistakes. You were just Brittany Lohan’s nicer little sister. But no one cared. You joined Blood Grove and while I may not have been SCW back then, I still recall those days. True, being part of that cutesy cult got you a SCW World Title, at the same time what happened to you and your culty pals? They turned on you like venomous snakes. Then you were Ms. Wonderful…at least, you were until you realized just how less than wonderful this world really is…” Kimmy shrugs her shoulders.

“So now the question is, who are you now? You are once again part of a band of nitwits who will betray you like venomous snakes once you no longer are needed. Once again you are saddled with a not so impressive nickname; you went from the little sister and Ms. Wonderful to…the backup plan. Specifically Franky’s backup plan. Now I don’t want you to think I am insulting you, Dawnie. I am only trying to help you. So what do you think will happen when Franky realizes his backup plan isn’t going to work? Or maybe what if Polly actually does something impressive for a change and takes the spotlight away from you?” Williams holds Wasley the penguin plushie up to the camera. She begins speaking for the penguin.

“YOU’RE GONNA GET THROWN OUT LIKE YESTERDAY’S GARBAGE!” Kimmy tucks Wasley back in her arms and snickers. She nods her head.

“That’s right, Wasley, Dawnie will get tossed out. Franky needs you now, Dawnie, but when he doesn’t you will get cast out like a leper. This has nothing to do with Franky being some saintly idiot handing out opportunities to people like you. Franky has you around because he thinks there is a chance you can take the Adrenaline Championship away from Deanna Frost. Now I get it, you want Deanna for a very specific reason…you need that one singular title to complete the set, to become Supreme Champion. And quite honestly, I believe you can get the job done. I believe in a straight up one on one match, you have the tools to defeat Deanna.” The Woman Scorned shakes her head.

“But you do not need Franky’s help to do it, you don’t need Polly’s help to do it. Damn it, Dawnie, you are a former SCW World Champion. You have the tools to defeat Deanna on your own. But knowing that you have chosen to take the shortcut, knowing who you have chosen to ally yourself with, well I cannot just sit back and watch it happen. I have Deanna’s back, not because she NEEDS help because trust me, as someone who has gone to war with her in the past, I know she does not need help. I have her back to make sure people like you, Franky, and Polly don’t try to screw her over. I am not a saint in this situation, either. I am not the hero of this story and I have never pretended to be. I am just Deanna’s psychotic guardian angel. Or better yet, maybe I am The Archangel of Chaos?” She winks playfully at the camera.

“You know what else I am? I am the Queen of the Death Match, and with the Queen’s Guard Deanna Frost in my corner at Hubris to make sure there is no funny business from Team Frankypalooza, I am going to march into Melbourne and paint the town red with your blood. I am going to maim you in Melbourne.” Kimmy shrugs her shoulders. “Or maybe I will just pick a limb and work it over, piece by piece, and make you tap out? I already proved to the entire world that I can be just as deadly a submission wrestler as I am a hardcore queen. Therein lies the beauty of chaos, Dawnie. You are going to battle against the most chaotic and most dangerous person in SCW and you have no idea which version you are taking on? The Queen of the Death Match or the Submission Specialist? You have no idea who or WHAT to prepare for…” she shakes her head.

“...and that’s why you have no chance of beating me at Hubris.”