Sofia Soldata vs. Jackson Mikaelson

[Konrad Raab]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: WEDNESDAY, December 17, 2025 at 11:59:59 pm ET (NOTE THE DEADLINE – this is for both shows)

[Jackson]

One breath. Two. Three. Adrenaline pumped through Jackson’s veins. Not just because he won. But because he got to perform.

The performance against Crystal hadn’t been easy, he knew this. He accepted it.

“Victory. The thing everyone strives for. Lives for. That’s a valid belief system. I won’t mock anyone who thinks that way.”

Jackson breathed slightly slower, in and then out. Coming down from the excitement in his veins. That was always the part he struggled with post-performance.

And then came the turn.

The moment that softened the adrenaline just that little bit more.

“Scout’s been hyper since the bell rang, I think he’s decided that he scored the pin.”  

Daisy spoke quietly, her tone holding the echo of a smile.

Scout barked once, low and rumbling as if annoyed by Daisy’s words.

Jackson leaned down low, now eye level with Scout. Maintaining careful eye contact he began to speak. His words quieter than normal indicating the vulnerability that lived beneath the charismatic showman he liked to present to the world.

“Between you and me? Wrestling’s a different beast than music. The crowd energy is different. The rules are different. The terminology is different. This isn’t a complaint, far from it. It’s me acknowledging that this stage isn’t the one I was raised on.”

Scout licked Jackson’s face once, responding to the emotion flowing off of him.

Daisy watched the interaction with a softening expression.

“Jackson. Feeling vulnerable doesn't make you any less of a rockstar. All it means is that you are trying to adapt to a world, to a new stage that relies on a different discipline than the one you made a name for yourself in.”

Scout sat bolt upright, eyes widening a second later.

“Jackson. I want you to meet someone. A friend.”

Daisy spoke, turning slightly to face him.

Rising to his feet, curiosity gleaming in his eyes Jackson found himself looking at a woman whose aura, whose energy radiated quiet composure, earned confidence. And just a hint of something that resembled a thoughtful nature.

“Raven. This is my brother Jackson. He’s deeper than he looks. He just doesn't allow many to see the core of who he is.”

For several long seconds Raven gave Jackson a once over. Not in the way fans, promoters, or even opponents sizing each other up did. No, this felt like something new. Something unexpected.

Smile back in place, vulnerability hidden under charisma, Jackson looked Raven up and down, assessing her in turn.

“Finally, I can put a name to the face who is responsible for teaching Scout.”

Raven snorted softly, eyes flicking to Scout. Deft warm fingers wrapped themselves around Jackson’s wrist.

“That’s a generous description; he listens when it suits him. I think he’s got a bit of a chaotic streak that largely gets ignored because he’s cute.”

Scout looked between Jackson and Raven, thumping his tail once, completely proud of his chaotic tendencies.

“What’s that saying, the road to hell is paved with good intentions?”

Jackson quipped, gesturing to Scout with a smirk.

Raven snorted again, this time louder and far more vibrant. True amusement lit her eyes. Her expression had changed from assessing to fascinated.

“You don’t rush. In the ring. It’s like you haven’t left music behind. I saw your match against Crystal. You did well, not perfect but you are still learning. That matters. Anyone who expects to be an instant master in a new career isn’t thinking about the performance, only their own ego.”

Daisy tilted her head once as she watched the interaction.

Jackson shrugged once loose and carefree.

“Old habit. Music teaches you-If you try to hit every note at once, it ruins the tempo. It ruins the rhythm.”

Raven nodded once, contemplative.

“That makes sense.”

Silence filtered through the air, a slow burning tension existing between Jackson and Raven.

Daisy grinned as she broke the silence.

“In other words, she thinks you didn’t look like an idiot.”

“That’s high praise.”

Jackson murmured, a slightly more solemn tone to his voice.

Scout added a bark, something instinctive telling him that something was building between Jackson and Raven.

Looking back to the arena doors, Jackson could hear the calm after the performance: the space that existed between performances.

New ring. Different opponent. Different Tempo.

And tempo was something Jackson understood and was already listening to.

30 minutes later: Jackson’s living room.

Daisy’s eyes were on her phone, scanning the screen as she read.

“SCW doesn’t waste time. You’ve got your next match listing. This time at SCW Pay Per View Shattered Reality. Against Sofia Soldata. Night One: Boston.”

Jackson spoke the name quietly under his breath, testing the sound of it. Feeling the weight of it.

“I’ve seen her. Clips. Not in person. She doesn’t miss. Everything is clean, tight. No wasted movement. That I can appreciate in an opponent.”

Daisy looked him over “You don’t seem nervous. Not even a little.”

Jackson exhaled slowly, one breath out.

“No. But I am listening. To the tempo. To the rhythm. To SCW as a whole. I won’t disrespect SCW or its roster by not putting in the work. By not acknowledging the talent here.”

Raven paused at the door, having attached Scout’s leash.

“Hey. Before Boston. Want to grab a drink? No crowds. No noise. Just something normal.”

Raven breathed out low and slow, heart beating a shade faster in her chest.

Daisy felt her eyebrows shoot up at the question Raven had posed-But she said nothing. Not yet anyway.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Jackson replied, voice taking on a softer yet no less charming tone.

Raven flashed a small smile, genuine, honest. Real.

“Good. Don’t trip trying to look cool in Boston. That would be embarrassing.”

Hand over his heart Jackson deadpanned. “Brutal. Truly. Have you ever thought about pursuing a career in stand-up comedy?”

Daisy turned slowly to face Jackson, an amused grin on her face.

“Wow. You get a new opponent and a date all in the same week.”

Leaning back against the couch, Jackson stared up at the ceiling.

“Looks like the rhythm is changing.”

Daisy leaned over the couch whispering.

“Yeah, it really does, doesn't it?”

A Quiet Bar – Boston, Massachusetts

The bar wasn’t loud.

That alone made it perfect.

Low lighting, wood-paneled walls, a jukebox humming something old and familiar—nothing that demanded attention. The kind of place where conversations stayed conversations, not performances.

Jackson Mikaelson sat at the bar with his jacket draped over the back of the stool, fingers loosely wrapped around a glass of whiskey he hadn’t touched yet. No ring gear. No stage lights. Just him.

Raven slid onto the stool beside him a moment later, ordering without looking at the menu. When her drink arrived, she lifted it in a small, almost ceremonial toast.

“No cameras,” Raven whispered, voice becoming a shade gentler.

“No noise.”

Jackson clinked his glass lightly against hers.

“Already better than half my career.”

She smiled at that—subtle, real.

For a moment, they just sat there. The kind of silence that didn’t ask to be filled.

“You don’t carry it with you,”

Raven said finally.

Jackson turned his head.

“Carry what?”

“The win,” Raven clarified.

“Most people do.”

He considered that, then shrugged.

“Wins fade. Nights like tomorrow don’t.”

Raven studied him, eyes sharp but not probing.

“Are you always this calm before a fight?”

“No,”

Jackson admitted.

“I’m just… focused.”

She nodded, as if that confirmed something.

“You fight like you’re listening for something,”

“Not waiting for permission. Waiting for timing.”

Jackson exhaled through his nose, amused.

“You sound like my producer.”

“I train dogs,”

Raven replied dryly.

“Timing’s everything.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him.

“Sofia won’t rush, she won’t charge recklessly.”

Raven added after a beat.

“She won’t give you space unless she means to.”

“I know,” Jackson hummed.

“That’s what makes it interesting.”

Raven took a sip of her drink, then glanced at him sideways.

“You respect her.”

“Yeah.”

He said simply.

“That doesn’t mean I’ll be careful.”

She smiled again—this time wider.

“Good.”

The jukebox shifted tracks. Something slower now.

Jackson finally took a sip of his drink.

“Do you ever get nervous before taking part in something you have no idea what's going to happen?"

Raven shrugged.

“I get observant.”

“Same thing.”

Jackson spoke with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

The bartender passed by, and Raven set some cash on the counter, rising to her feet.

“I won’t keep you.”

Jackson slid off his stool too.

“Thanks for not asking for predictions.”

Raven stared into his eyes, probing.

“I don’t need them.”

Raven took a long pause before adding “Just don’t forget—you don’t have to be loud to be heard.”

Jackson flashed a smile, the same smile he’d used on different stages throughout his career.

“Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”

They shared a look—unspoken, easy.

Tomorrow, the ring would listen.

And Jackson would answer.

As the sun crept beneath the hills behind Jackson's home a scant few hours later, he looked around to see that Daisy was nowhere in sight. Most likely asleep. Eyes drifting to the clock he murmured "11.57pm.

Almost midnight.

"Supreme championship wrestling. I'm still figuring this out. Figuring out how to be a wrestler. And that's okay. This is match number 2. My second opportunity at learning how things work here."

A light set of footsteps broke into his reverie.

"You've been awake for a while haven't you Jackson?" Daisy asked quietly.

Jackson turned to her, expression open "I've never had anything permanent in my life. Except for you. No steady paycheque. No sense of home. And now I am competing in SCW. It's not home. Not yet. But deep down I am afraid. What if I can't adapt to having a sense of steadiness in my career.?"

Daisy's features softened.

"You will. Adapt to this. Right now you are locked in a state of fear. Your entire body is telling you this is temporary. This too will be taken away. It will take time to accept permanence. Trust me Jackson. This too shall pass."

Jackson nodded, hands trembling.

"That's what scares me. Home. If SCW becomes my home. I'll do anything to keep it. How do I even begin to process that?"

Daisy (Voiceover): You start by acknowledging what you feel. That's how you begin. Sofia Soldata. Jackson respects you. I respect you. Scout respects you. But none of that means you won't be tested when the bell rings."

Scout barked once low and loud, eyes narrowed as if to say 'RUN'.

Fade to black.

[Sofia Soldata]

“Papa, I need to talk with you please.” Turning around to face her in this study, Ernesto Soldata beams with pride looking at his daughter Sofia, until he notes that something seems to be off about the youngest of his five children. Even though Sofia is 31-years-old now, her father’s voice becomes immediately protective as he gets up,goes over, and shuts the door to his office before sitting back down at his desk. “Sofia, what is troubling you? Some man you are dating, did they do something to you? Because people have forgotten who you are, but I have no problem reminding them.”

Sitting across from her father on the other side of his desk, there is something that is bothering Sofia, despite her reassurances to him. “Nobody has been, I will be ok Papa, I would not lie to you.” Sofia does her best to make sure that she seems as normal as possible, but nobody knows her the way that Ernesto knows his daughter and he knows that there is something that is not right with her. Looking at Sofia sternly and although he says nothing you get the feeling that Ernesto’s squinty eyes are peering right into Sofia’s very core. She can feel that too and even the normally unflappable Sofia is starting to crack underneath such scrutiny. “Why do you look at me like I have done something wrong or you do not believe what I am telling you Papa? I promise you that you can trust me.”

“My face is not the face of a man that does not trust you because I believe you are trying to be deceitful toward me. I know you would never do that to me, little one.” Sofia lifts up her head and the slightest little bit of a smile can start to be seen but it quickly disappears because she realizes that her father is not finished and he continues. “However, I do believe that you would omit parts of the truth so that I would not worry about you, and that is something that is unacceptable to me, because lies of omission are still lies just the same. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Sofia?” Slowly realizing that she is not getting anything past him at all, Sofia solemnly nods toward Ernesto. “Yes, I do, Papa.” Ernesto nods back, his look still stone cold serious. “Very well then, let’s try this again then, what or who is troubling you, Sofia?”

“Papa, it is just, well you know what I did two nights ago and…” Sofia's voice trails off as she is having a difficult time trying to find the words to what she is trying to say. Ernesto sees this and tries to help her out. “I wondered if this might not be too much for you and it appears as though I may have been correct in my thinking. It is alright Sofia, we do not have to continue with this.” Switching from being solemn to being confused, Sofia asks her father. “What do you mean, Papa, I do not understand?” “No, no, you don't need to feel like this is something you are now required to do, because nothing could be further from the truth. Being that I had a feeling that this could happen I have already put plans in place to make sure that this never happens again.”

Though she is careful never to do anything that could be misconstrued as being disrespectful to her father, the head of her family, Sofia also does hide the fact that she does not agree with what he is saying. “Papa, I don’t think you understand what I have been trying to say, because I never said that you should make sure that I am never to do what I did two nights ago again.” Ernesto still believes that he is making the right call here, despite the “You didn’t have to come right out and you wouldn’t if you thought that it would mean that you would disappoint me because I know that you would never want that. Besides nobody knows you better than me, I could anticipate this conversation before you ever came into my office today.”

A sly grin engulfs the face of Sofia. “Really, Papa? So tell me, when I showed up to your office, please explain to me that it was that you anticipated me wanting to tell you about what I did two nights ago. Yes Papa, I would like to hear that so much. More than you would ever realize I do believe.” Ernesto doesn’t hold back now, holding firm in his beliefs. “I apologize for sending you out. Even though you say that you wanted that task to you, we both know that you aren’t up for that type of thing. It just isn’t women's work.” Sofia tries to hide it, again wanting to be respectful of her father but she is now getting very fired up. “That is not what I wanted to say Papa, and I can’t help it if you believe that is women’s work or not. The fact remains that what hasn’t allowed me to sleep in those last two nights isn’t that I was bothered by what I had to do that night. Rather when I think about it, I can’t get enough of what I did, and the only thing that bothers me about it is how you would view me now after I just told you what I had to say regarding what I did that night .”

Ernesto seems a little taken aback by what Sofia had to say, as though this was the last thing that he ever expected to hear come out of her mouth. “So let me get this straight, Sofia, you liked going out two nights ago and doing what you did?” Sofia sighs heavily and then smiles across her fathers desk “More than anything else that you have let me do in my life. That man deserved exactly what he got that night and I was the person who made sure that he received it. Not only did I like what I did; I promise you Papa, I have never felt more alive than when I did that night and I hope you will let me do it again and again.

Staring around the room for a few moments while he tries to process what he has been told which he wasn’t expecting, Ernesto turns to Sofia and smiles brightly. “You liked it, and would like to do it again?” “Yes, Papa, more than even I could have expected for my first time. As for doing it again, whenever you decide to send me out, I will guarantee that you will not be disappointed by the results. I am your soldier now.” Ernesto reaches face over and kisses Sofia on either cheek. “Yes, yes, you are, my Soldier.”





"One match. One win. But thirsty for more.
(We are in a random locker room with a large, middle aged, Italian man dressed in a tuxedo. On the wall behind the man is a wrestling logo, though we can’t get close enough to be able to tell which wrestling company this is from. As the camera pans in closer we realize that the Italian Man is someone that we already recognize though we can’t quite put a name to his face yet.)

Italian Man: “Ladies and gentlemen, once again, my name is Fat Joey Graziotti, and my guest at this time is the one and only, Sofia Soldata!”

(The camera pans over to the immediate right of Fat Joey the stunning image of Sofia Soldata who is all smiles while looking to address everyone.)

Sofia Soldata: “My, my, my Joseph, aren’t you just a picture gentlemanly before us on this evening?”
Fat Joy: “Why thank you Sofia for saying that, it is much appreciated. But I really doubt that you want to use your interview time to talk about how good looking I am even though that is apparent to everyone.”
(While shaking her head emphatically no, Sofia starts to laugh looking at Fat Joey.)
Sofia Soldata: “Hey there Joseph, let’s not get a head of ourselves too much alright? You might start to believe you own hype. And as you well know, there are other things that I would like to address.”
Fat Joey: “And what would those things be, Sofia, tell us all about it, please?”
Sofia Soldata: “Well I need to correct myself Joseph because there is one thing that I feel obligated to address, but there is also one person, Jackson Mikaelson, who I face at Night 1 of Supreme Championship Wrestling’s Shattered Reality. I have a lot of respect for Jackson, but more on that in a few minutes. What I need to address first is that thing I was talking about is Diamond Steele.”
(Fat Joey is almost confused by this.)
Fat Joey: “But you won the match between the two of you Sofia. What else could there possibly be left for you to say?”
Sofia Soldata: “Just that I heard a rumor that Diamond was saying to people that I was lucky the night that I beat you and you kept running around the locker room saying that I had beginner's luck and nothing more. That was beginner’s luck though, Diamond, that was a lot of skill, skill that you don’t have and if you want to keep running your mouth? I will be happy to show you even more of that skill to shut your mouth yet again.”
Fat Joey: “It sounds like she really has you fired up, Sofia!?”
Sofia Soldata: “I just can’t stand when whether I do it, or someone else does, someone else gets put in their place but rather than just accept it they make excuses. But enough about the diamond that will never shine as brightly as I do. Now it’s time to talk about an opponent who deserves my attention, isn’t that right, Jackson?




See, a few weeks ago, I stepped into an SCW wrestling ring for the first time against Diamond. People called me the underdog; they said I was just a fresh face in the 'Front Office' looking for a lucky break. But I proved them wrong. I didn't just survive—I won. And that feeling? That's a drug I’m not ready to stop taking.”
(Fat Joey gasps aloud)
Fat Joey: “Oh my Gosh, you are taking the drugs Sofia?! Your father, he will kill me!!”
(Sofia swats Fat Joey upside the head and takes the mic)
Sofia Soldata: “I love you like the Uncle that I never wanted Joseph, but you need to stop being such a coward. I am not doing drugs; I was speaking metaphorically!
But now, back to the ring and I see the name across from me: Jackson Mikaelson.
Jackson, I’ve watched you. I’ve seen the way you command the crowd like you’re back on center stage with a guitar in your hand. You call yourself “The Frontman” and honestly? You’ve earned the title. You have a style that’s pure theater, and a 'Vibe Check' that has put better veterans than me on their backs. I respect the hell out of the intensity you bring to this business.
You’re out here trying to make the crowd feel something they’ll never forget. I get that. But Jackson, while you’re busy conducting the audience, you might forget that I’m not here to be part of your backup band.
I’m 1-0. I’m confident, I’m hungry, and I’m studying the room just as hard as you are. You might have the experience and the 'Final Note,' but I have the momentum of a woman who has nothing to lose and everything to prove.
This isn't just a performance for me, Jackson. This is my life. I respect you, but at the next show, I’m going to be the one taking the bow.
See you in the ring."