Dawn Lohan & Polly Playtime vs. Kimberly Williams & Shaun Cruze

[Kemal Yilmaz]

4 RP Limit for tag

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET WEDNESDAY, April 15, 2026

[Shaun2025]

INNER THOUGHTS – OFF CAMERA

As I’d spoken of at depth, the chance to become the number one contender had come as a surprise. In my eyes, there were a raft of people more worthy of that opportunity, people that had been in SCW for a decent time, more than I had on my return. I hadn’t wanted to be spoon fed opportunities just because of who I was, and this chance had felt like that. Though, in my experience, I always taught myself that you shouldn’t ever look a gift horse in the mouth. And so, although surprise, I’d put my heart and soul into it, against people who had built far more momentum than I. I’d given it my absolute all, for a chance to get my hands on what turned out to be the new Champion Gavin Taylor. At times, it had looked like I was going to get it done as well, the contendership in my grasp… until then it wasn’t. The chance is gone, even though I’d done the best I could. I was now ten matches into my return; ring rust couldn’t be the reason why. I’d not had enough moments to seize the day, and it certainly wasn’t due to a lack of preparation. I could only come to one of two conclusions, those being either I was no longer good enough to compete at this level, or the second option something was missing. Something missing was the preferable option right now. The question was WHAT, however, what was it that was missing and holding me back from once again taking center stage? It was now my mission to find that out.

PREVIOUSLY – OFF CAMERA

(Shaun had to be true to himself, the opportunity to get back into wrestling, and create another legacy for himself was indeed tempting. Bringing back EMERGE with Drew, and being the face of the company, certainly massaged his ego, especially when it produced an eloquent middle finger towards SCW. When he’d been General Manager there, he’d intentionally been made to feel like the scapegoat, him leaving nothing like as ‘mutual’ as it had seemed. Stealing viewership from them would be an added bonus to the need to show his daughter than her father wasn’t the fuck up she’d grow to learn if he didn’t change things. And so, just a couple of days after Drew had revealed his plans, Shaun had agreed to meet with Drew at the building that would become their base of operations. He needed to see it, to visualize it in his mind, before he made his final decision. A building was important, it needed to feel like it could make a difference, the need to imagine those fans packing those seats giving him his gut feel. As such, he drives his car into the rear parking lot, next to a building that had indeed seen better days but was far removed from the village hall he had imagined. Shaun sees Drew over by the entrance, the two exchanging the pleasantries of a wave before Shaun kills the engine and steps out of the car. Drew walks over, and motions towards the building.)

Drew: What do you think?

(Shaun nods his head appreciatively.)

Shaun: Yeah… needs some work but certainly big enough

Drew: Buildings like this in Los Angeles aren’t easy to find. But yeah, a bit of work and it will be exactly what we need.

Shaun: What was it used for previously?

Drew: What hasn’t it been used for… basketball mostly. One of the local college teams used to own it but sold it off to a private landlord. Just so happens, I know said landlord and he’s willing to cut us a deal.

Shaun: Really?

Drew: Yeah, we give him shares in EMERGE, and he’ll give us the building rent free.

(Shaun scowls a little, Drew catching the look.)

Drew: Something wrong?

Shaun: Nothing in this life comes for free Drew, there will be a catch I’m sure of it.

Drew: We’ll make sure it’s all above board and in the contracts. He just knows a good thing when he sees it, and someone putting it to use is far better than it stood empty. Come, let’s go and look inside so you can get a feel for the place.

(Drew opens the door and steps inside, Shaun following him down a couple of corridors before they step into what would be the main arena. It was certainly sizeable and would probably fit over four thousand in once fitted out which was more than enough for their needs, at least to begin with.)

Drew: Way, I see it is we have the ring down there, central. Rampway from over there which is conveniently where the locker rooms are already. Already got a new logo for the brand figured out… of course if you come on board, you’ll have to authorize it. All we’ll need then are staff and a roster but even if we kicked off with some of Owen’s students, I’m sure we could still put on a decent show. But I reckon your name alone would sell a show, especially if people know you are going to appear. Then, we just build off that, it will be no different to the first version of EMERGE… we only had a couple of hundred turn up. I’ve got a whole marketing campaign planned, and to begin with, it’s all built around you. I don’t see how it can fail.

(Shaun scoffs)

Shaun: That’s the eternal optimist in you Drew… I’ve learnt that positivity is ok, until it results in over optimism.

(Drew pulls out a couple of chairs from a stack and opens then, sitting down and then offering Shaun a place. He could see that Shaun was struggling with the whole thing and rightfully so, considering the amount of money that he would be putting in.)

Drew: Look mate, I know after what happened with Angyalka, you’re not in the best place right now, and financially, I am asking you to put everything you have into this, without taking the same risks myself. But Shaun, I promise you… if I did have the funds, I’d be doing this myself. I’ve had countless people offer to come on board, and in fact… I could have literally lessened the risk for everyone. But that would also lessen the reward… I want us to be able to say that WE did this. I want us both to remind this industry who the hell we are, and what we did… and will do again.

(Drew was saying all the right things, and Shaun could see the logic in it all. If they had a consortium on board, there was no question that he would have said already.)

Shaun: I don’t know Drew, way I see it, if there were more people involved, I’d be more inclined to give it all a go. If this goes wrong, I’d literally be left with nothing. I had an acting career; I’ve written box office hits… Impact Media as well was nothing but a success. All of that, all I made off the back of those things would amount to nothing. I’m just not sure it’s a risk I can take at this point in my life.

Drew: Thing is Shaun, all those other people would ONLY come in if they were the sole investor, they had no interest in being part of a consortium.

(Shaun looks around the building, taking it in like he thought he would when he was on the outside. He imagines the EMERGE logo high above the entranceway, he sees the fans sitting all the way to the roof. He even imagines himself coming down the ramp, the crowd cheering as he introduced the very first edition of EMERGE. But no matter how much he can imagine it, the fact is it doesn’t pacify him. Although ninety-five percent of him knew it would likely be a success, there was still the other five percent hanging over him like a sword. Then there was Dorothea, and his need to leave her something when he was gone… what if he had nothing to give. It was all too much for him to risk, he couldn’t bring himself to the table knowing he could lose everything. Shaun gets to his feet, and biting his lower lip says the words Drew Bryant didn’t want to hear.)

Shaun: I’m sorry bro, I just can’t take the risk. But Good luck and I hope it all goes well.

(Shaun offers his hand, Drew getting to his feet with a sigh. Drew takes the hand and they shake, Drew nodding his head.)

Drew: I appreciate your time Shaun, and I do truly understand. It would have been nice to work together again but I get it. If you change your mind though…

Shaun: I know where you are, I know. I don’t think I’m going to though, I don’t think I can. See you around bud.

(Drew nods and watching Shaun walk away and out of what would be his arena. Although he had other investors, none had the industry pulling power that Shaun did, which made the whole undertaking that little more difficult. But Drew also knew that once a Cruze had made up his mind, it was usually a done deal, and what was for certain was Shaun had indeed made up his mind.

Drew: Back to the drawing board.

(Drew folds up the chairs as the scene fades.)

PREVIOUSLY – OFF CAMERA

(It had been three weeks since Shaun’s meeting with Drew, and Shaun would have been lying if he’d said with total commitment that he hadn’t considered that he had done the wrong thing. The wrestling industry had now been made aware by a single tweet that EMERGE was on its way back, a couple more since had teased Los Angeles as its base so it certainly seemed Drew was still ploughing ahead with the idea. Perhaps he’d got someone else involved, perhaps a bigger name than Shaun himself. Thus, he couldn’t help but feel like he had missed out. After dropping Dorothea back home after a trip to the Zoo, Shaun sat down with Angyalka and had a chat over a cup of coffee and the conversation had turned back towards the industry that Angyalka herself had once been a huge part of. There had been lots of times when she had considered returning, but had never fully taken the step, as such she did have some insider knowledge. And she most certainly knew about EMERGE, and the potential for its return.)

Angyalka: So, I’m guessing you know about EMERGE coming back?

Shaun: Know about it? Drew gave me the option to be a part of it

Angyalka: Really?

Shaun: Yeah… I could have been the primary investor and face of the show

Angyalka: Competing?

Shaun: Nah, done with that. I was going to be the show runner, General Manager. Bit like the role I had with SCW

Angyalka: That went well…

(Shaun laughs)

Shaun: Yeah, I know. But that place was a shit show before I took control. This was the chance for me to do things my way, without having a board telling me what to do. Drew reckoned my name would sell the show on its own, and Owen was going to let us used some of the ‘Next Level’ talent. Drew even spoke of trying to bring Owen back as a competitor.

Angyalka: Like that is ever going to happen.

(Shaun takes a sip from his coffee and witnessed Angyalka compiling a list of questions like she always did when she wasn’t sure of something Shaun had decided. It had been a private joke in their marriage that Angyalka knew the right questions to ask to put Shaun on the right path, and it looked like she was doing that again.)

Angyalka: So, hold on…

Shaun: Here we go, you’re not my wife now, I’m not sure you’re allowed to nag.

Angyalka: I just want to get this straight. Drew offered you a chance to get back into the one thing you’ve truly loved. No offence taken. And you turned it down?

Shaun: Yeah

Angyalka: I’m sorry Shaun, but I’m struggling to understand why you would do that?

(When she said it like that, Shaun could understand why she would think like that. Shaun also knew that she wasn’t going to let it go without an explanation, knowing how much he had always loved the business, probably more than Orlando or Owen ever did.)

Shaun: It was too much of a risk Angyalka. After the divorce settlement… which I was more than happy to do, I don’t begrudge it, I was left comfortable with what I’d got left. If I’d have done this and it had gone wrong, I’d have been left with nothing. I couldn’t do that.

Angyalka: Why?

Shaun: I just answered that

Angyalka: Yeah, but why is money so important to you, it’s not like it’s ever been about that in the past?

Shaun: What do you mean?

Angyalka: Well, when you started wrestling, it was because Orlando asked you to take up the legacy. Acting was because you enjoyed it. Writing was because you want to give back, and Impact Media was to give others a platform. When were any of those things defined by how much money you had? Do you think I was drawn to you because of how valuable you were? No, I was drawn to you because of who you were, and your beliefs, and work ethic. The Shaun I married would have looked at this as a way to get back doing what he loved and not how much money he could make off the back of it.

Shaun: It’s not just about me though, is it?

Angyalka: Is it not?

Shaun: No, it’s about Dorothea… and what I can leave her

Angyalka: And you think being the big shot on screen you’ve always been won’t be enough? I think you’ve forgotten the little girl we brought her up to be. And anyway… I’m sure if you put some money in a trust for Dorothea and then went to Drew and told him you’ve be putting a couple of million less in the pot, he’d snap your hand off. If I know Drew, he wants to do this with you and you alone. You’re his golden goose, and there are not many bigger names out there.

Shaun: So, let me get this straight, you think I should do this?

Angyalka: I’m saying that Shaun Cruze has never been one to live with regrets, and if you don’t do this and it becomes a success, you WILL regret it. You don’t need money Shaun, you never did. What you achieved was always for the love of it, not how many dollars it put into your account. And anyway, you always looked so handsome up there on the big screen, it was what got my attention in the first place. It would be nice seeing you on there again and I’m sure all your groupies would think the same.

(The conversation then moves onto other things, but still her words linger in her mind. Perhaps she was right, maybe the risk was one worth taken… maybe the trust would be a good idea and not leave Dorothea with nothing when he was gone. Would Drew accept a lower offer though, Shaun was sure. What he did know was after talking to Angyalka, he was a lot more confident with the idea. Maybe, just maybe, she had changed his mind.)

PREVIOUSLY – OFF CAMERA

(Owen was in Los Angeles catching up with Taylor and as such it had given Shaun and Owen the chance to catch up. After some pleasantries, Shaun asking about the family etc., conversation had turned to EMERGE, Owen being the first to know about Drew’s plans for Shaun. It seemed on the grapevine, Owen had also found out about Shaun’s refusal, and although not as forthright as Angyalka, the conversation soon gets to Shaun’s reasoning. Owen however was more understanding, knowing what Shaun stood to lose, whilst at the same time, agreeing that it was a risk to take if it left him with nothing.)

Owen: So, what are you thinking right now? You think Angyalka has convinced you?

(Shaun puffs out his cheeks, knowing he would never be one hundred percent certain.)

Shaun: I think so. I mean, she’s right. None of this has ever been about financial reward, it’s always been about the love of the game. Giving Dorothea the trust that no one can touch, that makes the risk less great, but still. Plus, who’s to say that Drew is even going to accept a lower offer. Drew’s the kind of person that will have worked out the finer details of the financials down to the last dollar. If he says he needs that amount, you can bet that he’s taken out whatever he can already. Those opening months until word catches on, we are going to be taking a loss… my guess is he’s accounted for that shortfall.

Owen: So, in other words he’s a tight ass?

Shaun: Well yeah, but if he hadn’t had been EMERGE wouldn’t have gotten off the ground in the first place.

Owen: I do get what Angyalka is saying though… you always had different ideals to Dad and I. Dad it was all about the prestige and money, me it was all about being better than you both… which I was by the way.

Shaun: Of course.

Owen: You… well you just seemed to always love the shit you did, no matter what it was. And I’m sure you’d love this too if you decided to take the plunge.

Shaun: I think I’ve made up my mind… I just hope Drew accepts my offer or else I’m back at square one.

(Owen takes a drink, looking out over the coastline. He’d known he was going to say this, even before he got here today. He wanted to make sure that Shaun was as certain as he could be though, not wanting to put more pressure on.)

Owen: What if I helped?

Shaun: What… you mean, being on the show?

Owen: No, what if I put up the shortfall. Call it a loan if you want. I don’t want to be a shareholder or anything, just when you start making money, you pay me back

Shaun: What? You’d do that?

Owen: Sure. Like I said, whatever you put your mind to, it’s usually a success…

Shaun: My marriage?

Owen: OK, then… most of the time. I’ve got the money Shaun, and without sounding like Billy Big Bollocks it’s not a big deal. That way, you can put up the money Drew needs and get on with things without missing out.

Shaun: Are you sure?

Owen: Absolutely, monies there if you need it.

(Shaun shakes his head in disbelief, not sure what to say. So, he says the only thing he can.)

Shaun: Thank you… I hope you don’t live to regret it

Owen: I’m sure I won’t. So, how’s about you give him a call and give him the good news then hey, I’m sure he’ll be delighted.

Shaun: If you don’t mind, I think I will.

Owen: Not at all

(Owen smirks, Shaun getting to his feet and heading off to make the call. Owen could see the excitement in his face, a happiness he’d not seen since before the divorce, and he was glad to be a part of making that happen. Shaun would make a success of it, Owen was certain, and once again he’s put the Cruze family back on the wrestling map. Because if there was one thing missing in the industry right now, it was a Cruze. It just didn’t seem right there not being one, especially the one who cared about it most of all.)

[The Matt]

1 of 2
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April 7th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The living room barely qualified as a room at all. It felt more like a stubborn structure that had refused to collapse for just one more year, held together by habit, grit, and whatever loyalty old wood could muster. The walls carried the faded ghosts of paint jobs that were never quite finished. Patches of discoloration climbed unevenly toward the ceiling, meeting water stains that had long ago dried into pale brown shapes. The floorboards creaked with almost every step, warped slightly from age and neglect, their varnish rubbed away in places where countless shoes had passed over them. The furniture was a mismatched collection of survivors; a sagging old couch slumped in the middle of the room, its cushions slightly uneven and its fabric worn down to a soft, fuzzy texture in the spots where people sat most often. The armrests bore faint imprints of elbows and hands, and the back cushion never seemed to stay fully upright, always drooping to one side as though exhausted. A thrift store coffee table stood in front of it, scarred with rings, chips, and scratches that told a long history of hasty meals, forgotten cups, and dropped objects. A single lamp with a crooked shade provided most of the light, its bulb humming faintly. Yet, despite the cracks and stains and mismatched everything, the room felt unmistakably lived in. It felt real, comfortable, and utterly…chaotic, just like Kimberly Williams likes it. Far removed from the life of luxury certain people had been trying to pose upon her.

Along the far wall sat a small metal hamster cage perched on an old side table. Inside, Caligula the hamster ruled his tiny kingdom with wild eyed enthusiasm. His bedding was freshly changed, though some of it had already migrated into a messy little nest tucked into one corner. The wheel squeaked loudly every time he used it, making a rhythmic chirping sound that echoed through the otherwise quiet house. A few chewed cardboard tubes and half buried pellets completed the proud chaos of his domain. Beside the couch, leaning partially against it, sat the absurd and unmistakable presence of Kimberly’s beloved, yet deadly, plushie pal Wasley. The enormous penguin plushie looked like it had once been intended for a child’s bedroom but had long ago been claimed by a grown woman with questionable priorities and even more questionable ideas about self defense. The plushie’s bright black and white body, wide eyes, and cheerful stitched beak masked the fact that it was absurdly heavy. The lead weights Kimberly had discreetly inserted gave it both a surprising heft and a comedic air of danger. Its soft flippers rested against the floor like limp arms, and its large body slouched lazily against the couch, as if also living out its days in this beat up home by choice.

Kimberly Williams fit the room perfectly, almost as if it had been designed around her spirit of chaos rather than the other way around. She wore jeans that had been through hell and back, the fabric softened with age, the knees faded and lightly frayed. Her shirt was an oversized heather gray long sleeve shirt, the kind that swallowed her frame a little and hung loosely off one shoulder with accidental charm. Her red hair was uncombed, falling around her face in disorganized waves. Her feet were bare, toes curled slightly against the cool floorboards. Her boyfriend, Tommy Wasley, stood a few feet away, surveying the room with that familiar mix of resignation, affection, and amusement that seemed to define his relationship with Kimberly’s lifestyle choices. He was taller than her by a noticeable margin, lean with a bit of wiry strength in his build. He wore old basketball shorts and a faded Boston sports tee that had clearly been washed so many times the logo barely resembled itself anymore. His dark hair was tied back in a small knot at the base of his neck, not because he cared about style but because it kept the strands out of his eyes. They both looked strangely right in the room, as if wealth and luxury had always been a costume they wore for the rest of the world. Here, Kimberly’s shoulders had dropped, her breath came easier, and even the chaotic glitter in her eyes seemed brighter. Tommy looked at ease in a quieter way, the kind of comfort that came from letting go of expectations and simply being where he was wanted.

“You certainly seem to be in a much better mood.” Tommy says as he approaches The Woman Scorned, who happens to be laid out on the sagging couch. A wild smirk is etched across her lovely face. When he reaches the couch and notices Kimmy still not moving, he chuckles. “May I?”

“Since you asked soooo nicely!” Kimberly swings her legs over the side and sits up, giving Tommy room to sit down next to her, which he does and then wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“But seriously, Kimmy, you have been in much better spirits ever since Lucian disappeared. But now you’re practically beaming.”

“Hush.” Kim states sternly. “I don’t beam. But yes, I am very happy to be back here in something more grounded. More real. More…ME!” She declares happily. Tommy chuckles.

“I won’t try to pretend that this is my first choice and I gotta admit, this is a rather rough neighborhood, but I’ll adapt, because I just want to be wherever you are.”

“Awwww how sweet!” Kimberly exclaims. “But you are making Caligula jealous. Right, Caligula?”

“Shaddup ya hot piece of ass!” ‘Caligula’ says, but in reality it is Kimmy speaking on behalf of the hamster. Kim feigns shock.

“How rude of you, Caligula!”

“Yeah, right, I’m sorry….ya moron.” ‘Caligula’ remarks…but again, it’s just Kimmy. Tommy can’t hold back his laughter.

“Yep, you’re definitely back to normal.”

“Hey!” Kim shakes her head. “Never EVER accuse me of being normal. That is insulting.”

“Ok, you got me there.” Tommy smirks. “I mean, most people would think choosing to live here rather than that enormous Floreschu estate is crazy. And come to think of it, attacking both Dawn Lohan and Selena Frost on the same night might be pretty insane too.”

“See? Now you’re getting it!” Kim says, grinning from ear to ear. “But seriously, they asked for it.”

“Becase of Deanna?”

“Deanna Frost is my fellow Revenger and we Revengers gotta stick together! Revengers Resemble!”

“Isn’t that Revengers Assemble?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head “it’s like I told Dawnie on social media, I can’t risk being sued. I can’t afford to pay the royalties to you know who.” She winks playfully.

“You probably could…”

“Yeah but I don’t want to. Just like I don’t really want to have to maim Dawnie on Breakdown.” She sighs. “I mean, it’s fun when her sister Abi and I maim each other. But Dawnie is different. I don’t think she likes that kind of fun. And then of course I have to listen to Polly for the umpteen-millionth time try to explain that I’m a nepo baby despite the fact that I had already broke into the business on my own under a different name and won titles while my mom still thought I was dead.” She grins from ear to ear. “May I murder her please?”

“Polly?!”

“Yes!”

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “I can’t have you going to prison, babe. Just win the match, ok?”

“Awww you’re no fun.” She sighs. “Oh well…maybe Shaun Cruiserweight will let me murder them?”

“You can talk with Cruze about that when the time comes.” Tommy says. “But maybe avoid all the murder talk, eh? For now let’s just focus on the good. The positives. You are happy again. You are yourself again.”

“I am.”

Kimmy sighs with a sense of relief. The entire situation involving Lucian Floreschu had been getting to her. As much as she tries to hide it, the pressure was getting to her. Lucian had been slowly but surely influencing her. She needed to get rid of him but she didn’t want to murder him. Despite her tough talk, she does not want to murder ever again. Lucky for Kimberly, her mother did the deed for her. Angelica Jones got rid of Lucian Floreschu and hid the body where no one will ever find it. They concocted the story that he returned to Romania. Lucian already partially set himself up for this fall; he had already legally named Kimberly as his heir so nothing would look suspicious if and when he ever disappeared, so that she could take over everything from him, including control over the Floreschu Estate.

“I’m glad you found a good use for that great big mansion, though.” Tommy says, referring to the Floreschu Estate. “I mean, I know you didn’t care for it very much, but it was a beautiful place and it would have been a shame to see it go to waste.”

“Uh-huh, but if I’m being totally honest here, I’m just doing it to keep The Other Kim happy.”

“The Other Kim…” Tommy looks confused for a very brief moment before the sense of realization hits him “...oh, you mean the real estate agent?”

“Yeah, her.” Kim nods her head. She was all panicky about losing it and…”

Before The Queen of the Death Match can even finish her thought, a knocking at the door interrupts. Both Tommy and Kimberly turn towards the sound and they frown, both look confused. Tommy speaks first.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

“Nope…” she shakes her head “...but it’s probably my family.”

“How do you know?”

“Because none of the booby traps were set off and they are the only ones who know where they are located.”

“Wait…you put the traps back up?” Tommy asks. Kim snickers and nods her head.

“Yep!”

Tommy sighs with disbelief. Kimberly leaps to her feet first, eager to go see who she expects to be one of her sisters, or maybe her mother. She quickly speeds away while Tommy rushes, but fails, to keep up. The Woman Scorned is already out of the living room, down the short hall, and to the front door and has the door opened before Tommy can even catch up. Kimberly is shocked at what, or rather who, she sees. It isn’t a sister and it isn’t her mother. It isn’t family of any sort.

It is a man who looks like he belongs in a neighborhood like this; rough and sketchy with a stained green army t-shirt, denim jeans that have been torn and faded over time, and simple plain sneakers. He has short brown hair and despite appearing to be young, perhaps in his thirties, his hair is already thinning on top.

“Good afternoon.” He says politely. Kimberly tilts her head to one side and frowns.

“Ok, I admit, I am impressed because you are the first crook to get past my booby traps.”

“I am not a crook…” he pauses “...wait, traps?”

“Yes, traps, and you are a crook. I can see it in your crooked eyes.”

“I had several eye surgeries as a kid.”

“Oh.” Kim shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I have a penguin inside and I know how to use it!”

“Uh, maybe I should come back later…” the man laughs uncomfortably. But before he can leave, Tommy steps forward to be an intermediary of sorts.

“Don’t mind my girlfriend. Kimmy here is fun once you get to know her.”

“I’m a barrel of laughs!” Kim insists, grinning from ear to ear.

“My name is Tommy. Tommy Wasley.” He extends his hand and the man reluctantly accepts the handshake. “And this is Kimberly Williams.”

“It is nice to meet you both.” He says. “My name is Shane Ball.”

“Baldy!” Kim exclaims randomly.

“I am not bald!” Shane insists, placing a hand on top of his head self-conciously.

“I never said you were.” Kimmy snickers. “It’s just a nickname I gave you. You are Baldy now.” She winks playfully.

“Oh…” again Shane laughs uncomfortably.

“So what can we do for you, Shane?” Tommy asks.

“Well, for starters will you…either of you…answer this question; why would someone as wealthy as you want to live in a rough crime ridden neighborhood like this?”

“Who said we were rich?” Kim asks curiously.

“I’m not as dumb as you think.” Shane says. “I know you, Kimberly, and not just from your career as a professional wrestler. Your story is an incredible one…no outside help from your family, hell, you were practically abandoned by your family, yet despite it all you managed to make a successful career for yourself. You are now using real estate to help provide nicer housing to poor people who need it. It’s a noble thing you are doing and, let’s face it, you two can easily afford better than this neighborhood.”

“You’re right, I could afford to live somewhere else.” She nods her head. “And I tried. I tried living in an upper scale yet still somewhat modest place in a nice little community. I ended up going to war with the Homeowner’s Association. Most recently I tried living in a mansion. It made me feel like a fake, like a fraud.”

“So what brings you here?” Shane asks.

“This place keeps me grounded. It reminds me of the reality of what most people have to live with outside of the protection of wealth.”

“Wow, that’s deep.” Tommy says.

“Thanks, babe!” Kim exclaims happily.

“Anyway…” Shane chimes in “...unlike you, who CHOOSE to be here, I live here because I have no choice. I cannot afford to live anywhere else.”

“Oh. Well I could help with that.” Kim states. “I could talk to my partner in real estate and…”

“No.” Shane shakes his head. “I’m not asking for charity. I’m fine living here. But it IS a high crime area and despite what you may think, you may not be ready for life in this tough area.”

“I used to live here, Baldy.” Kim winks playfully. “I’m ready. Besides, I have tons of traps out here in my yard. I dare anyone try to break in. They likely won’t make it out alive.”

“She doesn’t mean that.” Tommy says, laughing lightly. He then turns to Kim. “You DON’T mean that, right?”

“Maybe we should let Baldy test that theory?”

“I don’t want to test your traps.” Shane says nervously. “I’m sure they are quite…impressive. I just stopped by because I want to form a neighborhood watch and I think both of you would be great for it.”

“You want me? Crazy Kim? To be part of a neighborhood watch?” Kim snickers knowingly. Tommy rolls his eyes.

“Oh Lord…”

“You got it!” Kimmy jumps up and down playfully. “Kimlock Holmes, the world’s greatest detective, is back on the case!”

“Kimlock Holmes?” Shane asks nervously. Tommy chuckles.

“You really did it, Shane-O.”

==========
April 8th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

Night had settled unevenly over the rough edge of Boston, casting the streets in a patchwork of shadows that stretched long and uneasy across cracked pavement. The neighborhood always felt different after dark. Old streetlights flickered in half hearted attempts to stay alive, their cones of light weak and trembling, leaving most of the sidewalks in a murky haze. Trash bins were lined along the curb, many dented or missing lids entirely. Amid all of this, Kimberly Williams walked with the kind of chaotic confidence that belonged only to her. She moved down the sidewalk with a bounce in her step, as if she were strolling through a theme park rather than a neighborhood with more crime reports than streetlights that actually worked. She wore a pair of loose cargo pants with frayed pockets, the fabric faded from years of use. Her boots were scuffed and sturdy, the soles thick enough to handle whatever the streets threw at her. On top she wore a sleeveless dark hoodie, the hood down and the zipper partially undone to reveal an old tank top beneath it. Her red hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail that swayed behind her with each step, wild strands escaping to frame her face. But the most unmistakable part of her ensemble was snug on her right hand. A thick dark brown glove, reinforced at the knuckles, each finger tipped with a sharp metal blade that glinted in the faint streetlight. Kimberly had named this nightmare creation Betty White for reasons known only to her. Each movement caused the blades to flash in quick silver arcs, delicate and deadly at the same time, and she flexed her fingers periodically as if warming up her unusual companion. There was no malice in her expression, only an amused anticipation, the kind of mischievous spark that made it hard to tell whether she was ready to stop trouble or cause it.

Tommy Wasley walked beside her, a steady contrast to her unpredictable energy. His build was broader, more solid, like someone who could hold his ground even when everything around him fell apart. His thick beard framed his jaw, giving him a rugged look that fit the neighborhood better than he ever admitted. He wore a simple pair of dark jeans and an old hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hands were tucked into the pockets, though the swing of his shoulders and the slow way he scanned their surroundings made it clear he was alert. His gait was calm but deliberate, a quiet guardian presence at Kimberly’s side. A black knit beanie covered most of his hair, and the dim glow of the streetlights revealed lines of worry etched faintly into his expression. He was not nervous in a fearful way. It was the kind of concern that came from watching someone you cared about wield sharp objects with enthusiasm while wandering into places where sharp objects were sometimes a necessity.

“I’m still surprised you wanted to be a part of this neighborhood watch, Kimmy.”

“You should know better than to be surprised at anything I do.” Kim says with a wicked grin on her face.

“Good point. But still, wouldn’t you rather be training for your tag match on Breakdown? Maybe even reach out to Cruze? I mean, you and him are tag partners and yet you don’t have great history with him.”

“Now you sound like my mom.”

“Hey, it’s sound advice.”

“Trust me, Shaun Cruiserweight and I will get along wonderfully!” Kim insists. “Besides, this is sorta like training…”

“How?” Tommy asks incredulously. “How is any of this like training for a match against Dawn and Polly?”

“If we see someone sneaky or shady, I’ll fight them first and ask questions later!” Kim declares joyfully. Tommy sighs.

“You DO realize that is NOT what a neighborhood watch does, right Kimmy?”

“I know but I don’t really care.”

Their breath formed faint clouds in the cool night air as they walked, their footsteps echoing in the empty street. Occasionally they passed a house with a porch light on, the glow soft and tired, illuminating rails with peeling paint and steps that had not been repaired in years. In other yards, barking dogs announced their presence from behind chain link fences. Despite the roughness of it all, Kimberly seemed completely at ease. This was her comfort zone, far from polished walls and expensive floors. She thrived in chaos, and the dark streets of her neighborhood felt almost welcoming to her. Tommy stayed close, ever the grounding force, the quiet one keeping pace with the storm beside him. Together they made an unusual pair for a neighborhood watch. But in this part of Boston, unusual was exactly what worked.

“Wait…” Tommy says, pointing “...see that?”

“Huh?” Kim looks. She spots a figure in the shadows sneaking around in someone’s yard. “Yeah! A crook! He’s trying to break in!” The noise Kimberly makes accidentally startles the would-be-thief, sending him running for the hills.

“We should call the police.” Tommy says.

“Yeah, YOU do that.” Kim says, a wicked grin forming on her face. “I’m gonna take a more direct approach!”

“Kimmy, don’t…”

His cries fall upon deaf ears. Kimberly runs off, chasing after the mystery man, all the while waving Betty White menacingly. The Woman Scorned cackles nastily.

“Run, run, as fast as you can! I’ll catch you I’m the Gingerbread man!” She waves her razor glove in the air. “I’ll get you my little pretty, and your little dog too!”

[Jay Gold]

Season 7 / Episode 31 / Too Much (Part 9 - Aching)

[The Matt]

2 of 2
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==========
April 9th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

Kimberly Williams was thrilled to become a part of a neighborhood watch; not only did it give her the opportunity to give back to her community but it also gave her an opportunity to enjoy herself and have some fun, perhaps even encounter some action on an otherwise dull night. Her boyfriend, Tommy, had hoped that they would not run into any action and yet last night they did run into some action. They witnessed an attempted break in. While Tommy Wasley called the police The Woman Scorned gave chase. Unfortunately for the self-proclaimed Queen of the Death Match, the perpetrator got away. Her brief return as “Kimlock Holmes” the world’s greatest detective has not started off too well. Now instead of preparing for an upcoming tag team match pitting The Woman Scorned and her unusual tag partner for the evening, Shaun Cruze, against Dawn Lohan and Polly, Kimmy and Tommy are stuck at the police station talking to a detective about everything they saw the night before.

The detective’s office looked as though it had been assembled from mismatched decades. A tall metal filing cabinet stood in one corner, its paint chipped in long uneven streaks that revealed the older colors beneath. Papers were stacked on top of it in precarious piles, some curling at the edges, others clipped together with old binder clips that had lost their shine. The walls were a dull beige, the kind that might once have been warm but had long since faded into a tired, muted shade. A framed certificate hung crookedly beside a bulletin board cluttered with pinned notes, sketches, and photos. The overhead lights buzzed faintly with a constant hum. The detective’s desk dominated the room, a heavy wooden thing scarred by scratches and rings left from countless coffee cups. Open folders spilled across its surface, intermingled with loose sheets of paper, pens, a dented stapler, and a small cup half filled with pens that did not match. A mug of coffee sat near the detective’s elbow, steam curling up faintly, suggesting it had been freshly poured even if he had not yet touched it. Behind him, the blinds covering the narrow window were bent in a few places, allowing slanted rays of afternoon sunlight to filter through and cast striped shadows across the room. Detective Alvarez sat behind the desk, leaning back slightly in a well worn chair that creaked every time he shifted. He was a man in his fifties, his once dark hair now streaked with silver at the temples. His suit jacket rested over the back of the chair, leaving him in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tie hanging loosely at his collar. His expression was thoughtful but alert.

Kimberly Williams sat across from him, perched on the edge of a visitor’s chair that had lost most of its firmness years ago. Even in a police station, she did not look subdued. She wore a pair of relaxed jeans with frayed hems, her usual choice for days when she did not feel like impressing anyone. Her blue T shirt was soft and slightly oversized, the fabric stretched from years of wear. Her red hair spilled around her shoulders in unruly waves, still unbrushed from the night before. Her posture was restless, her leg bouncing lightly, her fingers tapping the arm of the chair. She carried the lingering energy of someone who was trying to sit still for the sake of formality but had no natural ability to stay calm for long. Tommy Wasley sat beside her, steadier in presence and demeanor. He wore a plain gray hoodie and dark jeans, simple and comfortable, the kind of outfit that made him blend into most crowds without effort. His heavy boots were planted firmly on the floor, and his hands rested calmly in his lap. His thick beard and broad shoulders made him appear intimidating at first glance, but the quiet steadiness in his eyes softened him. He leaned slightly forward, attentive, supporting Kimberly in the way he always did when her natural restlessness threatened to overwhelm the moment.

“So tell me one more time Ms. Williams, Mr. Wasley…

“Tommy.” Kimberly chimes in.

“Excuse me?”

“You said Wasley but he’s not here. Wasley is my penguin. This is Tommy, my boyfriend.”

“Right…” the detective’s expression remains unchanged despite Kimberly’s eccentric attitude “...anyway, what were you and…Tommy doing last night?”

“Well we were just doing our part as upstanding members of a not-so-upstanding community.” Kim says cheerfully. “We were out and about doing a patrol for the neighborhood watch.”

“A neighborhood watch?” Detective Alvarez says as he starts making notes. Kim nods her head enthusiastically.

“Yep! It was organized by Baldy!”

“Baldy?” He arches a brow curiously. “Is that a nickname?”

“No, no, detective.” Tommy Wasley chimes in, chuckling. “Well, it kinda is a nickname, but not one he gave himself. Kimmy here likes to give people nicknames instead of calling them by their real name.”

“I see.” The detective nods his head. “So what is his real name?”

“Shane Ball.” Tommy answers.

“He seems like a nice guy despite being kinda shady.” Kimberly states.

“I’m sure.” The detective continues to scribble notes. “So, tell me everything you saw.”

“Well it wasn’t much to be honest.” Kim shrugs her shoulders. “We were out, stalking, patrolling, looking for bad guys, and we happened to notice this guy in dark clothing in the shadows creeping around someone’s front lawn. It seemed like he was trying to break in to someone’s house. He got startled and ran away. Maybe he was scared of Betty White?”

“Who is Betty White?”

“Nothing.” Tommy says quickly, not giving Kimberly a chance to blurt out that she had a lethal weapon with her.

“I tried to chase him down but alas he got away.” Kim sighs and shakes her head. “I apologize detective, as Commander in Chef of the neighborhood watch I should have been better prepared for a foot chase.”

“Don’t you mean Commander in Chief?” Tommy asks. “And who made you Commander in Chief, uh Chef anyway?”

“Caligula.” Kim insists.

“And who is this…Caligula?” The detective asks.

“My pet hamster!” Kim says cheerfully.

Tommy’s face goes beet red in embarrassment. Kimberly doesn’t seem to care on iota. She is enjoying herself. Detective Alvarez finishes making his notes and then leans back in his chair.

“Well you two should consider yourselves lucky.” He says. “Running down a criminal is dangerous.”

“Danger is my middle name!” Kim says defiantly. “Actually it’s Francis but don’t tell anyone.”

“What I mean, Ms. Williams, is that you and your boyfriend should be more careful. There have been a string of break-ins recently in your neighborhood. We are not yet sure if it is one individual or gang related but it is likely the same perp or perps.”

“Thank you, detective.”

Tommy stands up as does Kimberly. The Woman Scorned playfully salutes.

“Commander in Chef Kimlock Holmes at your service!”

Tommy gently takes Kimberly by her arm and takes her out of the detective’s office. As they walk down the hall, looking for the exit, they whisper to each other.

“That certainly could have gone better.” Tommy says.

“I think he likes us!”

“Maybe.” Tommy chuckles. “But you need to be careful. I mean, were you really about to tell him about…well…Betty White?”

“No, I’m crazy but not stupid.” Kim snickers. “But admit, we helped the police. We gave them good, solid information. That has to feel good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does feel good to be helping the community, especially a community like ours that really needs it.” He looks directly into Kim’s eyes. “But you need to get your mind on SCW Breakdown. You have to find a way to work with Shaun Cruze. You have to defeat Dawn Lohan and Polly. AND on top of that you likely have Selena Frost wanting your head on a platter.”

“Ol’ Frosty can just be mad.” Kim smirks knowingly. “My focus is on where it needs to be; Breakdown, beating Dawnie and Polly. Besides, do you really think those two can get along? Dawn basically cost Polly the Adrenaline Title.”

“And am I supposed to expect you and Cruze to get along after the grief you put him through when he was Commissioner?”

“Good point.” Williams states. “Maybe I should address that…”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Just a peace offering for Shaun Cruiserweight.” Kim says, feigning innocence. “Nothing more.”

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

The camera begins to roll and immediately we are met with Kimberly Williams. The Woman Scorned is seated casually on the floor with her legs crossed, her posture relaxed yet carrying a quiet sense of eccentricity. She has long, straight red hair that falls freely past her shoulders, catching the warm light and giving it a coppery glow. Her facial expression is that of mischief, a chaotic grin as though she’s lost in a moment of contemplation of what insanity she might cook up next. The Queen of the Death Match is dressed in a plaid flannel shirt in muted tones left partially unbuttoned at the top for a relaxed fit. The shirt looks well worn and comfortable, with slightly loose sleeves that she hasn’t rolled, leaving them to bunch softly at her wrists. Her jeans are similarly casual and slightly faded across the knees and thighs, with subtle signs of natural wear. She pairs them with brown lace-up boots that have the scuffed, slightly distressed look of footwear that has seen real use. Her hands rest loosely at the center of her lap, fingers intertwined, adding to her calm demeanor. The setting around her is simple but striking due to the lighting. Kimmy is sitting on a smooth, gray colored floor inside of a studio. The background is an unfocused gradient of soft grays and beiges, smooth and untextured, which allows the warm tones of her hair and clothing to stand out vividly. Resting next to her is beloved yet deadly penguin plushie pal Wasley.

“Do you people like movies? I am a huge movie buff. Wasley is too. And I know all of my Kimmymaniacs are big movie fans. Well here’s a great movie quote that I love and it is a line that I have made a career off of and, in a way, it relates to certain people in my life today Dawnie Lohan, Polly Pinhead, and Juneau McFrosty, because they are schemers. Schemers trying to control their little worlds. I'm not a schemer. I try to show the schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are. Juneau McFrosty scheming her way to yet another SCW World Title Match by taking her own wife Deanna’s title shot away from her. Polly Pinhead trying to scheme her way to relevancy by shoving her puny little lips onto Franky’s ass. And Dawnie Lohan, scheming her way to the SCW Adrenaline Championship to complete the Supreme Championship.” Williams claps her hands.

“Congratulations! Congratulations to Polly Pinhead for proving that you really cannot do anything on your own. You couldn’t do anything with your pals the Playgirls. You even walked around with a collar and leash as someone’s pet. You got rid of the collar and leash but you didn’t ditch the idea of being someone’s pet; you just decided to be Franky’s pet. He has you do a trick and he gives you a treat, he gives you a shot at the Adrenaline Title but oh, wait, it seems as if your new master doesn’t have all that much faith in you, that or he never truly cared for you at all in the first place, because he sent Dawnie to the ring as a backup plan.” Kim laughs maniacally.

“What the hell kinda backup plan is that, Polly Pinhead? I mean, if you’re buying his drivel then you really are an idiot. Here’s the reality, Polly Pinhead…he doesn’t care for you. He doesn’t want you to succeed. He sees you as a tool. You are not a person to him. You are an IT. You are a thing. You are someTHING he can use to get the Adrenaline Title away from Deanna Frost. IF you don’t believe me, why was Dawnie even involved? Because he didn’t have faith you could get the job done. So here comes Dawnie.” Kim waves playfully at the camera.

“Hiya Dawnie! Now me and your sister are still really good friends despite your really bad judgment call in siding with Franky. I know you really want to become Adrenaline Champion and complete the set, to become Supreme Champion. It is the one thing you are missing and Deanna has it, which means you and Franky have a similar goal. I get the logic but Dawnie, the same lecture I gave to Polly Pinhead is the one I’m giving to you. Franky doesn’t give two shits about you. Just like Polly Pinhead is not a person to him, neither are you. You are a THING. SomeTHING he can use to rip that title away from Deanna Frost. The instant he doubts you both, the moment he finds someone else who can dethrone Deanna, he will turn his back on the both of you. He will cast you both out like lepers in favor of the next flavor of the month.” She shakes her head.

“But I like you, Dawnie. Truly I do. Your sister and I go way back. We maimed and mutilated each other for years just for fun. Damn near killing one another is how your sister and I became so close. I look forward to befriending you in that same manner, Dawnie.” She winks playfully. Then she points a finger at the camera.

“But YOU, Polly Pinhead, I simply just don’t like you. I tried oh so hard to show respect but you’re either too ignorant or too dumb to listen. So, to be perfectly honest, all bets are off come Breakdown. With Dawnie I maim out of love but for you, I just want you to go away. I want to cripple you and send you away so no one in SCW has to suffer through any of the same old shit out of you. Go ahead, Polly Pinhead, use the same tired old nepo baby logic that you use all the time. You can’t think of anything original so use it against everyone else but especially me despite that it really makes no damn sense. So go away. You may as well, because Franky will grow tired of you eventually. Franky will grow tired of BOTH of you at some point.” Kimmy smirks knowingly.

“Therein lies the rub…both of you want the Adrenaline Title but you both can’t have it. And both of you can’t be Franky favorite pet doggie so which one of you will it be? Will it be Polly Pinhead or the girl who, one could argue, cost her the title at Retribution?” She shrugs her shoulders. “What I do know is that I can get along with my tag team partner Shaun Cruiserweight.” She nods her head.

“Yeah, yeah, me and Shaun Cruiserweight have our history. I wasn’t exactly a good girl back when he was commissioner. But the difference here is that he and I know where each other stand. There’s also a mutual respect there because while I might not have agreed with all of his decisions as commissioner, I damn sure respected him as a competitor and I respect the hell out of him even more now because he recognized that Franky was trying to turn him into his personal bitch and Shaun Cruiserweight said no way. He turned and walked away from it. He stood on principle.”

“Now here we are, a tag team match pitting me and Shaun against Dawnie and Polly Pinhead. Some might call it strange bedfellows but me? I just call it good old fashioned chaos and as THE ONE TRUE QUEEN OF CHAOS in all of professional wrestling you know damn well that I thrive in this environment. So ladies, get ready because The Queen of the Death Match and The Impact Player are coming for their pound of flesh.”