Taking Hold of the Flame 2026

[The Matt]

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June 4th, 2026
Washington, DC
Off Camera
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Breakdown from Washington DC was just as chaotic as any day in Washington DC normally is, possibly even more for The Woman Scorned Kimberly Williams. The self-proclaimed Queen of the Death Match was jumped from behind by Dawn Lohan before her scheduled Underground Rules Match against Chris Lawler; just as Kimmy predicted. And yet, despite the attempt to give Lawler an early advantage, The Woman Scorned still managed to overcome the odds and defeat Lawler, handing him yet another loss and another setback. In fact, the entire evening would make it seem as if The Queen of the Death Match had already chosen her side against the new order of CEO Frank Delatosso. But the opposite is true; Kimmy has no interest whatsoever in this war that has erupted within Supreme Championship Wrestling. Kim’s goals remain the same; advance her career, get closer to regaining the SCW Underground Championship. And with Taking Hold of the Flame coming up, maybe even earning a shot at the SCW World Title if she can win the famous battle royal.

Winning Taking Hold of the Flame would definitely put Kimberly on CEO Frank’s radar. She realizes that winning the Flame would likely force her to finally choose a side. Would she sell her soul to Frank if it meant getting him to leave her alone? She is a psychopath, so anything is possible. It is difficult to guess what is going on in the head of The Woman Scorned. But what we do know is that Kimmy wants to be Underground Champion again and she wants to win Taking Hold of the Flame and she wants to become SCW World Champion, thus becoming Supreme Champion.

Backstage at the Capital One Arena, the air was a thick mix of industrial floor wax, stale fog machine fluid, and the sharp, metallic tang of sweat. Production crew members pushed heavy black road cases on wheels down the hallways, their boots thumping against the floor while walkie talkies buzzed with static and tired voices wrapping up the night. SCW Breakdown was officially off the air, but the adrenaline of the wrestling event was still bleeding out of the walls. Deep within the labyrinth of the backstage area, inside a private dressing room that smelled faintly of damp towels and expensive perfume, Kimberly Williams was unwinding from the night. The high impact sport and competition of the ring was over, and she had already scrubbed the sweat and any lingering remnants of the bruising and blood of her Underground war with Chris Lawler from her face. She had swapped her elaborate, crimson red dragon themed ring gear for her preferred street clothes, opting for a loose fitting, faded flannel shirt over a plain black t shirt and a pair of broken in denim jeans that had seen better days. Her scuffed boots were laced up loosely, and she sat on a low vinyl folding chair, her shoulders dropped in the sudden, heavy exhaustion that always followed a major performance. Despite the millions of dollars associated with her name and her family’s legacy, she looked like she could have just finished a shift at a local warehouse.

Sitting across from her, occupying a slightly sturdier armchair near a lit vanity mirror, was her mother, Angelica Jones. Angelica looked entirely detached from the grimy reality of a pro wrestling backstage environment. She was dressed in a pristine, tailored feminine business suit, a deep plum colored blazer that fit her perfectly, paired with a matching pencil skirt that hit just below the knee. A silk cream colored blouse peeked out from beneath the collar of the blazer, accessorized by a simple, elegant gold pendant necklace that caught the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. Her heels were sensible but undeniably high end, and her hair was styled into a flawless, smooth blowout that hadn't lost a single bit of volume despite the humidity of the crowded arena. The room was relatively quiet compared to the roaring crowd of thousands that had filled the arena just a couple hours prior, but the silence between the mother and daughter was filled with a familiar, professional understanding. Kimberly leaned her head back against the concrete wall of the dressing room, closing her eyes for a brief moment to listen to the distant hum of the arena’s ventilation system. Outside their door, a couple of security guards laughed at a shared joke, their deep voices muffled by the heavy wood.

“Well that was…” Angelica sighs “...eventful.”

“You said it!” Kim says, a wicked exciting grin forms on her face. “I had fun!”

“Fun?” Angelica furrows her brow in confusion. “The CEO’s crew, specifically Dawn, attacked you before your match against Lawler. They tried to take you out, Kimmy.”

“But it didn’t work!” She poses. “Ta-da! I’m still here! And despite the predictable help Lawler Cutter got, I still beat his pathetic old ass. Seriously, I hope Franky Poo was watching because I illustrated just how worthless Lawler Cutter really is; me and my brand of violence and chaos would be much better service to him than Lawler Cutter.”

“Oh wait, so now you’re on his side?!”

“I didn’t say that.” Kim shakes her head. “Quite frankly, I don’t really want to be on any side. There are two things that have grown tiresome for me; faction wars and authority figures. Remember years ago when there were, like three or four different factions battling for control of SCW?”

“Yes, you helped Katya and Syrean, mainly because your sister Marie was blinded by Katya’s promises.”

“Right, and I am not eager to jump into another faction power struggle. I also had my fair share of battles with Shaun Cruiserweight when he was commissioner and even with CHBK.” She shakes her head. “I’ve grown bored with that, too. Quite honestly, I have no desire to choose ANY side. Let Franky and his crew fight to the death with the good guys. Let them destroy each other for all I care. As long as I’m left alone in the Underground, I will leave Franky and his crew alone to do whatever the hell they want. In fact, you should be a good manager and pass that message along.”

“I’m not sure how well that deal will be received. Then again, the CEO doesn’t seem like anyone with much principle. He might very well give you what you want in exchange for staying out of his business.” Angelica frowns. “Still, what about Taking Hold of the Flame? You’ve entered. What if you win?”

“Then I earn a shot at the SCW World Title in the main event of Rise To Greatness.” Kim smirks devilishly.

“And what if Amelia Nevado is champion? She is one of Frank’s favorites.”

“We cross that bridge when we get there.” Kim shrugs her shoulders. “Besides, how can I resist the opportunity to participate in Taking Hold of the Flame? Its very nature is chaos and I love chaos!”

“Right.” Angelica sighs, she isn’t quite what to think of her daughter’s current state of mind regarding tonight’s events, so she decides to change the subject. “So, I heard your house was condemned?” Angelica asks, changing the subject with a curious arch of her brow. Kimberly furrows her brow and tilts her head to one side, studying her mother.

“Who told you that?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“The penguin or Tommy?”

“Tommy, obviously.” Angelica chuckles. Kim sighs and nods her head.

“Tommy talks too much.”

“Well is it true?” Angelica asks. “Did the city condemn your home?”

“No, not exactly.” Kimberly says. “It isn’t condemned yet, but it will be unless we fix a few things.”

“How many things?”

“One or two dozen.”

“Oh is that all?” Angelica asks sarcastically. Kim snickers.

“Everything’ll be fine, mom. Trust me! Me and Tommy have a plan!”

“I hope so. Otherwise you may have to move.” Angelica pauses for a moment. “Although that might not be a bad idea. I know you love that beat up old house but it is in a very rough part of town. You and Tommy would definitely be safer living somewhere else.”

“Yeah, you and The Other Kim are echoing the same sentiments, but what neither of you remember is that the only people safe from me moving are the criminals living in that neighborhood. They’ll be safer from me!”

“Right, of course.” Angelica rolls her eyes. “And who is The Other Kim again?”

“Kim Lambert, the real estate agent who helps me with my business.” Kim states. “She wants me to move back into The Floreschu Estate but that’s not gonna happen.”

“I agree.” Angelica says with a nod of her head. “Moving back there would be a bad idea for many reasons.”

Angelica Jones remembers all too well about the painful memories that come with The Floreschu Estate. It was the home of Emma, Sorina, and Lucian Floreschu, the siblings who tried to shape, twist, and corrupt Kimberly’s life. When they pushed her too far, Kimberly ended up murdering Emma and Sorinah. Lucian had the evidence to blackmail Kimberly but Angelica put a bullet in his head in order to protect her daughter. The last place Angelica wants Kimberly to be is back at the scene of the crime after they have gone to such great lengths to cover it up.

“Hey, what about that other home you used to own?” Angelica asks. “It was much nicer than the one you live in now, definitely upper class, but nowhere near the scale of luxury that the Floreschu Estate is.”

“Yeah, I know the one you’re talking about.” Kim nods her head. “But that’s a no go too. The Other Kim is already looking for a buyer and even if we pulled it off the market so me and Tommy could live there, it would make me miserable.”

“Why? What’s so wrong with living in a nice, upper class neighborhood?”

“For one, I would have to deal with that annoying homeowner’s association again, and the last time I dealt with them I ended up having to deal with drug dealers.” Kim smirks. “Secondly, unlike you and Marie, I hate living in the lap of luxury. I need to keep myself grounded.”

“And that means living in your…ahem…modest home?”

“Right.” Kim smirks knowingly. “But it’s ok, me and Tommy have a plan.”

“What plan?”

“We’re going to repair the place.” Kim announces. “We have the list of repairs the city wants us to make and we are going to fix it all up without sacrificing its personality.”

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June 7th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The morning sun in lower Boston didn’t so much shine as it filtered through a stubborn layer of urban haze, casting a flat, grayish light over the front stoop of the house. On a good day, the property looked historically neglected; today, with a bright orange city code violation notice slapped squarely against the rotting front door, it looked like a crime scene of municipal neglect. The foundation was bowing slightly toward the sidewalk, several exterior shingles had rotted completely away to reveal the crumbling tar paper beneath, and the front porch steps creaked with a terrifying, hollow groan whenever anyone dared to step on them. The city inspector, Tim, had given them thirty days to make significant structural progress or face a condemnation hearing. So, naturally, the sidewalk was now littered with a chaotic assortment of hardware store runs. Tommy Wasley stood near a rusty metal wheelbarrow, wiping a thick layer of grease from his hands with an old shop rag. He looked exactly like a man about to spend eight hours doing grueling, unpaid manual labor. He wore a faded, paint splattered gray pocket tee that stretched tight across his broad chest, a pair of heavily frayed Carhartt work pants stiff with dried mortar, and thick leather work boots with steel toes. His unruly dark beard was already caught in a stray cobweb from when he had peered underneath the porch structure a few minutes prior, and a pencil was tucked neatly behind his ear. He looked practical, focused, and entirely prepared for the grim reality of jacking up a sagging house.

Kimberly Williams, by contrast, had approached the structural renovation project with her signature blend of intense commitment and absolute absurdity. She was dressed sensibly enough from the neck down, wearing a pair of heavy duty denim overalls over a dark sports bra, her feet secured in her reliable, scuffed combat boots. But protecting her skull from the threat of falling masonry was a custom piece of safety equipment. Her hard hat was not the standard industrial yellow or construction orange. It was a brilliant, blindingly reflective safety pink, entirely coated in a thick layer of coarse glitter that shimmered aggressively every time she turned her head in the May sunshine. Stenciled across the front in bold, black block letters was the phrase COMMANDER IN CHEF. It was a complete mystery whether she had bought it that way, misunderstood the military terminology, or simply believed that running a household in squalor required top tier culinary authority. The glittery headgear caught the reflection of a passing city bus, sending a spray of pink light dancing across the cracked pavement.

Sitting on a relatively sturdy upside down five gallon bucket nearby, acting as the project’s silent site foreman, was Wasley the penguin. The oversized plushie sat upright, his lead weighted core keeping him perfectly stable against the light morning breeze that was rustling the nearby trash bags. He looked as soft and innocent as ever, his yellow felt beak pointing directly toward the sagging porch line. To ensure he was fully compliant with local safety regulations, Kimberly had carefully secured a miniature, yellow plastic novelty hard hat between his stubby black wings using a thin piece of white elastic band snapped beneath his chin. The tiny helmet sat slightly askew, giving the deadly, lead filled stuffed animal the appearance of a very weary, very heavy utility worker waiting for his coffee break.

Tommy looked from the rotting support beam beneath the porch, up to the glittering pink helmet of his girlfriend, and finally down to the tiny yellow helmet on the penguin. He let out a slow, deep sigh through his beard, the sound full of a man who had long since accepted that his life was weird, but who loved her too much to care. A sudden, sharp rattling sound echoed from the open first floor window just above them. Inside the living room, Caligula the hamster was already throwing his entire, furious weight into his exercise wheel, the squeaking mechanism serving as a frantic, rhythmic soundtrack to their impending construction disaster. Kimberly grabbed a heavy, rusted crowbar from the wheelbarrow, holding it like a tactical short sword. She adjusted the brim of her glittery helmet, her eyes locking onto the structural defects of the house with the absolute intensity of a general preparing to storm a fortress.

“Alright, maggots!” Kim exclaims, like a drill sergeant giving orders to her troops. “Listen up you mongrel eat worms! The enemy has shown its ugly face and its name is Tim! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SAYING, MAGGOTS?!”

“Uh, Kimmy?”

“The first and last word I want to hear out of your filthy sewer is SIR, do you understand, maggot?!”

“Sir, Kimmy Sir.” Tommy says, deciding it is better to humor his girlfriend.

“Better. Now what is it, maggot?!”

“I know that everything is an adventure to you.” Tommy says. “But don’t you think we should get started? We have thirty days to fix everything on this list Tim gave us and we can’t waste any time.”

“Fine…” Kim sighs “...you’re becoming like my sister, nothing but a party pooper.”

“Sorry, but I thought you’d want to keep this home rather than see it condemned.” Tommy winks playfully. “Or would you rather move back into that fancy upscale subdivision where you’d have to deal with the homeowner’s association? Or worse yet, do you want to move back into the Floreschu Estate?”

“Ugh, don’t even suggest that!” Kim exclaims, feigning a gag.

“Then let’s get to work.”

“Right. Let’s take a look at the list!” Kimberly strolls over towards Wasley the penguin, bends over, and snatches a clipboard that was resting at its feet. Kimberly hands it over to Tommy. “There’s your list. Tell me, what do we have to take care of.”

“Well…” he begins reading “...structural instability in the back wall.”

“Probably due to the dead bodies.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, just kidding!” Kim winks playfully. “Continue.”

“Well, then there’s questionable electrical wiring.”

“Easily taken care of.” She sighs. “Of course that means getting rid of my booby traps.”

“That’s probably a smart idea anyway, babe.” Tommy chuckles. “Your booby traps are questionably legal anyway.”

“But they are so much fun, aren’t they?” She grins from ear to ear.

“Fun but not necessarily legal.” Tommy says.

“Continue.”

“Rodents…” Tommy says furrowing his brow curiously “...it just says rodents…”

“Probably means the raccoon living in the attic.”

“We have a raccoon in the attic?” Tommy asks, looking surprised at this revelation. Williams nods her head.

“Uh-huh, he is our Head of Night Security!”

“Well the city views him as a pest that needs to be removed.” Tommy points out. Kimberly folds her arms over her chest and pouts.

“So much for our night security.” She sighs. “I’ll gently let him know that he’s been fired.”

“And we have thirty days to get this done.” Tommy states. “At least get some significant progress, enough to convince planning and zoning to give us more time, or maybe Tim can buy us some more time if he sees that we’re taking this seriously.”

“Then it’s settled!” Kim exclaims. “Today it begins! We rebuild the Kingdom of Slight Structural Integrity!”

“It was never a kingdom, Kimmy.” Tommy laughs.

“It is to Caligula.”