Taking Hold of the Flame 2026

[Kirsten Scott]

Apostasy Chapter 1

Apostasy Chapter 2

[Braddock]

Marie RP 1

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May 29th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The morning sun over Boston did not so much shine as it bruised its way through the heavy, low-hanging condensation that routinely rolled off the harbor. Inside the walls of the gym, a converted brick warehouse tucked deep within the industrial fringes of South Boston, the weather outside was entirely academic. The air in the facility was its own microclimate, a thick, stagnant soup brewed from decades of evaporated sweat, liniment oil, industrial-grade chalk, and the metallic tang of unpolished iron. It was a cathedral dedicated to the religion of physical exertion, where the hymns were sung in the clanking of weight stacks and the rhythmic, heavy thud of leather-soled boots hitting canvas. Marie Jones stood at the center of this kingdom, her boots planted firmly on the worn rubber matting that ringed the facility’s crown jewel: a slightly warped, twenty-by-twenty-foot professional wrestling ring. The Phoenix was in the absolute zenith of her physical prime, a masterpiece of functional athletics. Her hair, a vibrant, fiery shade of copper that she had inherited along with her stubborn chin, was scraped back into a series of tight, utilitarian Dutch braids that clung closely to her scalp, ensuring not a single strand would blind her during a sequence. She wore a faded, grease-stained black tank top that did little to hide the dense, compact musculature of her shoulders and upper back, and heavy-duty spandex shorts that showed off thighs built from a lifetime of squats and explosive dropkicks. Right now, her focus was entirely internal. She closed her eyes, listening to the familiar, comforting symphony of her own body. Her breath came in slow, measured expansions of her ribcage, a deliberate pacing she had spent a decade mastering to survive twenty-minute broadsides in unventilated armories across the country. Every muscle was awake, buzzing with the residual heat of a three-mile morning run through the chilly Boston mist, waiting for the next command. A few feet away, adjusting the heavy leather weight belt around her waist was Angelica Jones. At fifty two, Angelica was a monument to resilience. Her own red hair, lightly dusted with silver at the temples like frost on autumn leaves, was tied up in a messy, defiant topknot. She lacked the pristine, unblemished definition of her daughter’s youth, her skin bearing the honorable topography of a decades long career: a faint white line of scar tissue slicing through her left eyebrow, a slight hitch in her right hip when she stepped too quickly, and shoulders that looked as though they had been carved out of New England granite. Angelica didn’t move with the restless, kinetic energy of her daughter; she moved with a terrifying economy of motion. Every step was deliberate, every shift in weight calculated. She was a living relic of an era when the business was rougher, the rings were stiffer, and the road was longer.

The two women occupied the weight lifting section adjacent to the ring, a territory dominated by a massive, rusted power rack that had likely been bolted into the concrete floor before Marie was born. On the barbell rested a formidable stack of iron plates, forty-five-pound discs clotted with chipped black paint and surface rust. This was their shared sanctuary. In a world that constantly demanded they perform, preen, and project larger-than-life personas for the cameras and the screaming crowds, the gym was the only place where the weights never lied to them. Marie stepped up to the rack first. She coated her palms in a thick dusting of white chalk from a communal bucket, rubbing her hands together until a pale cloud drifted into the air, catching the dim beams of fluorescent light overhead. She stepped under the bar, settling the cold, knurled steel across the meat of her trapezius muscles. She took a deep, belly-expanding breath, gripped the bar with white-knuckled intensity, and lifted. The weights groaned in protest as she cleared the pegs. Angelica watched from a step behind, her arms crossed over her chest, her sharp green eyes tracking the alignment of her daughter’s spine with clinical precision. As Marie descended into a deep squat, her hips dropping below her knees, the tendons in her neck strained against her skin, flushing a deep, angry crimson. She paused at the absolute bottom of the movement, holding the immense pressure for a fraction of a second, before exploding upward. The plates rattled violently at the top of the extension, a sharp, metallic ring that echoed off the high rafters of the warehouse. Without a word, Marie dropped into the next repetition, her movement as smooth and mechanical as a piston in a steam engine. Angelica nodded to herself, a subtle gesture of approval that Marie caught in the reflection of the cracked, salt-stained mirror lining the wall. When Marie completed her set of ten and guided the bar back onto the safety catches with a resounding crash, she stepped back, her chest heaving, sweat glistening along the bridge of her nose and pooling in the collar of her shirt.

“You’re looking great, Marie.” Angelica quips. Marie sighs and nods her head, appreciating the approval from her mother.

“Thanks. It’s always a good idea to stay in ring shape. You know?”

“Of course.” Angelica agrees with a nod of her head. “And speaking of which, I can’t help but notice the fact that you are training and working out a lot more lately.” She arches her brow out of curiosity. “Is this a sign that you are getting yourself prepared for a return to the ring? Maybe a return to SCW?”

“Mom…” the frustration in Marie’s voice is evident but Angelica doesn’t let up.

“Seriously, now would be a great time for a return. It is that time of year; Taking Hold of the Flame.”

“Right, and you honestly think I could win?”

“I know you can win.” Angelica smirks knowingly. “I also know it’s something you really want. You are two championships short of Supreme Championship status and one of those titles you lack, that you need, is the SCW World Championship. You could be a secret entrant in Taking Hold of the Flame, win it all, and then go on and defeat the champion at Rise To Greatness.”

“That sounds like a great fairy tale, doesn’t it?” Marie shakes her head. “But fairy tales aren’t real, mom, and the idea of me entering Taking Hold of the Flame and winning it all just isn’t likely.”

“Yet still each year forty people give it a shot anyway.”

“True but not me.” Marie shakes her head. “Not this year. I’ve had a nagging ankle injury that’s kept me out of action.”

The Matriarch of the Jones Family doubts her daughter’s words but she does not question her. Instead, without needing an invitation, Angelica stepped into the vacancy. She didn't adjust the weight. Despite the two-decade age gap, the elder Jones matriarch had no intention of letting her daughter out-work her today. Angelica spit on her palms, gripped the bar, and wedged herself beneath the steel. Her face contorted into a mask of grim determination, lines deepening around her mouth as she hoisted the weight clear. Her descent was slower than Marie’s, a cautious negotiation with her veteran knees, but her ascent was pure power, driven by a stubborn refusal to let the gravity of the world dictate her limitations. After several alternating sets, the physical toll began to manifest. Marie leaned against the vertical support of the power rack, a towel draped over her head, watching her mother finish a grueling set of overhead presses. Angelica locked the bar into place, her breath rattling in her throat, a triumphant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looked over at her daughter.

“You’re a terrible liar, Marie. You know that?” Angelica says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Huh?”

“You really could take a lesson from your sister when it comes to being deceptive because you are really awful at it.”

“What am I lying about?” Marie asks, feigning innocence. Angelica snickers.

“Your nagging ankle injury.” Angelica shakes her head. “I don’t buy it. Even if you had an ankle injury, it wouldn’t keep you out of action that long. Plus you look pretty damn good this morning for someone with a bum leg.”

“Oh ok, fine.” Marie sighs and nods her head. “But I wasn’t lying, I did have a nagging ankle injury. Except I have been medically cleared to return to the ring for a long time now.”

“I knew it.” Angelica declares. “So what’s been keeping you away?”

“I don’t want to return unless I know I can be competitive.” Marie states flatly. “Fact is, in the latter days of my most recent run in SCW, I wasn’t very competitive.I was just there. I was basically taking up space. And I don’t want that to be my lasting legacy. I want that to be how the fans of SCW remember me. If I return, I want to know I can kill it again just like I used to.”

“Face it, Marie,” Angelica says, placing a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulder “you suffer from the same problem all the wrestlers in our family suffer from; namely, a fierce competitive streak. You want to be a winner and if you can’t be a winner you don’t see any point to any of it. If you can’t win you get depressed, frustrated, angry.”

“Everyone in our family?” Marie appears skeptical. “Maybe you and me. Maybe even Jess. But what you just said doesn’t describe Kimmy at all. She creates chaos with a brilliant smile on her face and doesn’t seem to have a care in the world whether she wins or loses.”

“You’d be surprised at how well Kimberly is at hiding some of her fears.” Angelica points out. “But you are right about one thing, your sister is very laid back, she is very chill, and…” she sighs as her voice trails off “...I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think it might not hurt to be more like your sister.”

“You want me to be more like Kim?” Marie asks.

“Why not?” Angelica shrugs her shoulders. “It might help you get out of this funk.”

“Well,” Marie pauses for a few moments to consider the possibility “Kimberly certainly is very free spirited and fun loving. Where’s the harm in being like that? It might be good for a change to be more fun rather than be so serious all the time.”

“There you go.”

“You know what?” Marie’s face lights up. “I think I will enter Taking Hold of the Flame.”

“That’s great. See? All you needed is a gentle push, some confidence, and now you’re ready. I can reach out to CHBK and…”

“Whoa, hold up, mom,” Marie shakes her head “I appreciate the ‘gentle push’ but I want you keep this on the down low.”

“Really?” Angelica asks. Marie nods her head.

“I want to keep it a surprise. I want to shock everyone. You want me to be more like Kim? Well she’s the agent of chaos. No one is expecting me back anytime soon. So let’s throw in that element of surprise, that element of chaos into the mix and see what happens?”

“Very well.” Angelica nods her head. “I’ll make sure to keep your secret. Still, you will need to train even more now that you are returning for Taking Hold of the Flame. Winning that will take more than just a simple surprise return.”

“I know.” Marie nods her head as she wipes the sweat from her brow. “I will train and be ready. Don’t worry.”

“Good. Speaking of training, I’m surprised my grandson didn’t want to come along. He is back in the United States, isn’t he?”

Angelica asks. Marie smiles warmly as thoughts of Sean Connor Jones, her only child, her son who recently returned from London, England and his first few months at the Braddock Wrestling School. Another characteristic Marie inherited from her mother, other than the red hair, is her overprotective streak as a parent. Marie had difficulty in accepting the fact that Sean even wanted to follow her into such a dangerous sport as professional wrestling, let alone send him overseas to England, even if he was being supported by extended family. Having Sean back is very helpful for her mental and emotional state of mind.

“Yes, he’s back, and from what he’s told me his training is progressing really well.”

“I’m honestly surprised you let him go.” Angelica states. “You and I are not that much different.”

“I know. You always were very overprotective and I guess I got it from you.” Marie sighs. “Kimberly had to convince me it would be ok, that the Braddocks are our cousins and would take care of him. And I admit, I still do get worried about him, I am nervous about the day when he finally completes his time at the Braddock Wrestling School and makes his debut. But he’s determined to see this dream through.” Marie shrugs her shoulders. “I can’t stop him.”

“You could have forced him to stay here and get trained by me, or you, or your Aunt Kayla.” Angelica smirks. “Heck, even your boyfriend is a bit of a mixed martial artist isn’t he?”

Percy Matthews, Marie’s latest boyfriend, an ex-convict trying to turn his life around, knows several moves and, yes, is a mixed martial artist. He taught Sean a few deadly strikes early on as Sean’s interest in wrestling grew. Though the name of Percy Matthews brings about a sad sigh from The Phoenix.

“Yeah, Percy…” her voice trails off. Angelica, with a maternal instinct, senses something is off.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure Percy will be able to work with Sean any longer.”

“Why not?”

“He’s, well,” Marie sighs “Percy has been staying way a lot longer lately. It has become harder for me to contact him.”

“Oh no.” Angelica gasps, holding a hand up to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I thought you two were such a perfect fit; a great couple.”

“We still are, mom.” Marie insists. “Things are just…complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“Complicated but fine.” Marie states. “Trust me, everything is fine.”

==========
June 5th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

Inside the master bedroom of Marie’s luxurious Boston home, the room was a sanctuary of soft cream tones, polished hardwood floors, and plush velvet furnishings. A sprawling king sized bed dominated the space, its silk duvet currently buried under a chaotic avalanche of discarded hangers, silk blouses, and leather jackets. Marie stood in front of a floor to ceiling gilded mirror, smoothing down the skirt of a tailored emerald green wrap dress that complemented her fiery hair perfectly. The fabric clung elegantly to her athletic frame, softening the powerful contours of her shoulders and highlighting a waist shaped by years of discipline. She leaned closer to the glass, carefully applying a touch of dark mascara to her lashes, her movements precise and practiced. Despite the bruises hidden beneath the expensive fabric, bruises earned from a lifetime on the canvas, she looked every bit the picture of refined, upper class sophistication.

Sitting cross legged on the bench at the foot of the bed, watching the transformation with a look of mild amusement, was Kimberly. Kimberly was drowning in an oversized, faded gray flannel shirt that looked like it had been salvaged from a construction site, left completely unbuttoned over a plain, threadbare black t shirt. Her legs were encased in a pair of baggy, oil stained cargo pants that bunched up over the tops of a pair of scuffed, heavy tread work boots. While Marie’s long hair was styled into soft, elegant waves that framed her face, Kimberly’s identical red locks were a wild, untamed mane, hastily brushed but left to fall wherever they pleased, creating a stark contrast against her aggressively casual, almost defensive wardrobe. She sat with her elbows resting on her knees, her posture wide and entirely unbothered by the delicate luxury of her surroundings.

“You’re boring me, sis…” Kimberly feigns a yawn which Marie ignores.

“Hush, you.” Marie states. “We’re just going out.”

“And you look like you’re getting ready for some kinda gala.”

Marie reached for a pair of gold hoop earrings on her vanity, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood as she shifted her weight. She glanced at her sister's reflection in the mirror, watching Kimberly idly pick at a loose thread on her cargo pants. The room was thick with the scent of high end perfume clashing directly with the faint, stubborn smell of pine industrial cleaner that seemed to follow Kimberly everywhere.

“I’m surprised you’re taking me out.” Kim winks. “Aren’t you ashamed to be seen with me?”

“No, never.” Marie shakes her head. “In case you forgot, you’re my twin sister and I love you, you dope.”

“Awwww!” Kim folds her hands over her chest, acting as if the love Marie just declared melted her heart. “Buuuuuut c’mon, Marie, you can relax and chill once in awhile, y’know? You don’t have to be such a…”

“Prude?” Marie asks, turning to face Kim, placing a hand on her hips. Kim instantly nods her head.

“Yeah. A prude.”

“Well this prude has been cooped up inside for far too long and she needs to get out and enjoy herself.” Marie smirks.

“You only have yourself to blame for being cooped up.” Kim states. “Or you can blame your boyfriend for being a no-show lately. Or blame yourself, you could be on tour with SCW. It is Rise To Greatness season, Taking Hold of the Flame is coming up!”

It takes all of Marie’s will power not to blurt out that she is actually going to enter Taking Hold of the Flame, that she is going to try and shock the world and win the whole thing. But The Phoenix keeps her cool and composure. She shakes her head.

“Maybe another time. Besides, why talk shop when we can party?” Marie grins knowingly. Kim claps happily.

“That’s the spirit!” Kim says gleefully. “Maybe there’s a bit of a rebellious spirit in you after all! Now if only I can do something about your clothes…”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Kimmy. I’m just trying to enjoy myself, that’s all. Like I said, I’ve been staying inside far too long. I need to get out and have fun. I can’t just sit around and wait on Percy…” her voice trails off.

“Hey, speaking of your old ball and chain, where is he?” Kim asks curiously.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Marie shrugs her shoulders.

“Oh yeah?” Kim frowns. “That isn’t a good sign, Marie. Wasn’t he staying here with you?”

“He was…” Marie sighs “...still is, I thought…”

“Exactly.” Kim states. “He’s been gone for how long now?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Marie insists, shaking her head. “Everything is fine between me and Percy.”

“You think.”

“I know it’s fine.” Marie says, growing frustrated with having to defend herself and her mia boyfriend. “I just…”

“Look, you don’t have to pretend with me.” Kim places a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Trust me, I get it. I’ve been there myself in his situation, worried that I would fall back into my old criminal ways.”

“Percy isn’t falling off the wagon.” Marie insists. “He’s reformed…”

“But you’re worried that he might not be reformed.” Kim states, totally serious, devoid of her usual humor.

“I admit, I am concerned.” Marie shakes her head. “I’m concerned that his past may have come back to haunt him.”

Kimberly held her sister’s gaze, the playful teasing completely evaporated from her face. For all their differences in lifestyle and wardrobe, the shared intuition of a twin was impossible to mask. She squeezed Marie’s shoulder gently, the heavy fabric of her flannel shifting as she offered a rare moment of grounded, silent solidarity.

Marie took a deep, shuddering breath, letting the facade of her pristine composure slip for just a second. The elegant emerald dress suddenly felt like armor she was wearing to protect herself from a reality she wasn’t ready to face. The mention of Percy’s past, combined with the secret burning in her chest about entering the grueling Taking Hold of the Flame battle royal, created a heavy, suffocating pressure.

But as quickly as the vulnerability appeared, Marie blinked it away. She smoothed down the front of her skirt, straightened her posture, and forced a soft, determined smile back onto her face. There would be time to worry about Percy later, and time to worry about the ring tomorrow. Today was about survival of a different kind. Grab her designer purse from the vanity, she signaled that the heavy conversation was officially over. It was time to leave the sanctuary of her home and step out into the Boston night.

=====

Marie RP 2

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June 5th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

The neon glow of the bar washed over the packed crowd in a haze of electric blue and crimson, casting long, vibrating shadows across the wood paneled walls of the South Boston dive. The venue was a local institution, a place where the floorboards were permanently sticky and the marine memorabilia hanging from the rafters had a thick coating of dust. Tonight, the usual low hum of sports commentary from the television sets was completely drowned out by the amplified, screeching feedback of a sound system that had seen far better days. Deep in the center of the chaos, tucked into a vinyl booth that had a prominent piece of duct tape patching the seat, Kimberly sat with a half empty pitcher of cheap amber ale between her elbows. Her oversized gray flannel shirt was pushed up to her forearms, and her heavy work boots were resting comfortably on the footrail of the table. She looked entirely in her element amid the smoke and the shouting, a stark contrast to the refined, pristine energy of her sister. But right now, Kim’s attention was entirely fixed on the small, elevated plywood platform at the far end of the room that served as the bar's makeshift stage. Up under the harsh glare of a pair of mismatched spotlights, Marie looked completely out of place and entirely mesmerizing all at once. The emerald green wrap dress that had looked so demure and sophisticated in the quiet luxury of her home now shimmered like a beacon under the cheap bar lights. Her fiery red hair, still styled in those elegant, perfect waves, seemed to catch every ounce of illumination in the room, making her stand out against the dark, grimy backdrop of the stage like a classical painting dropped into a garage sale.

She held the scuffed black microphone close to her lips, her knuckles pale against the plastic casing. For someone who made a living executing high risk maneuvers in front of thousands of screaming wrestling fans, the intimacy of a small neighborhood bar crowd was a completely different kind of pressure. It was just Marie, a handful of lyrics scrolling across a pixelated monitor, and a room full of strangers holding lukewarm pints of beer. The intro to a classic, soaring eighties rock anthem began to pump through the blown out speakers, the bass vibrating so intensely that it rattled the framed pictures of local sports legends on the wall. Marie took a deep, centering breath, a movement that tensed the powerful muscles of her back and shoulders, stretching the silk of her dress taut. When she hit the first note, any lingering doubt about her presence in the room vanished instantly. Her voice didn't just carry; it commanded the space. It was a rich, powerful alto that possessed a surprising amount of raw, gravelly edge, a testament to the grit that ran deep through the entire Jones family lineage. She didn't sing with the fragile precision of a studio pop star; she sang with the explosive energy of an athlete, utilizing her incredible lung capacity to hold notes that made the patrons at the bar stop midway through their drinks to look up.

As the song built toward its crescendo, Marie’s initial hesitation melted away entirely. The stage presence she had cultivated through years of performing in packed arenas took over. She began to move with a fluid, natural confidence, her heels clicking in time with the driving drumbeat, one hand gripping the microphone stand while the other gestured to the crowd. She wasn't just performing a song; she was owning the room, channeling every ounce of the frustration, anxiety, and secret ambition that had been building up inside her townhouse all week into the lyrics. Down in the booth, Kim watched the transformation with a massive, triumphant grin stretching across her face. She raised her plastic cup high in the air, letting out a piercing, two fingered whistle that cut through the musical arrangement, earning a few startled glances from the patrons in the neighboring booths. Kim didn't care. She knew exactly what it took for her sister to let her guard down like this, to step out of the rigid, protected bubble of her professional life and just exist in the messy, loud reality of the world. Marie caught her sister’s eye from across the smoky room, a genuine, radiant smile breaking through her performance. For a brief few minutes, the mystery of Percy's whereabouts, the looming pressure of the Taking Hold of the Flame battle royal, and the weight of everyone's expectations didn't exist. There was only the driving beat of the music, the warmth of the spotlights, and the undeniable thrill of a Boston crowd roaring its approval.

As the final, soaring note of the anthem echoed off the tin ceiling, Marie held the microphone high, her chest heaving as the entire bar erupted into a genuine wave of cheers, whistles, and the rhythmic thumping of pint glasses against wood. A flush of pure, adrenaline fueled color coated her cheeks as she offered a breathless bow, stepping down from the plywood stage with the practiced grace of someone used to navigating unstable platforms. Navigating the crowded aisle of the dive bar felt like walking a gauntlet of sudden celebration, with strangers nodding in approval and leaning out from their stools to offer enthusiastic high fives that she accepted with a radiant, uncharacteristic grin. By the time she slid back into the vinyl booth opposite her sister, the sophisticated, guarded exterior she had worn all morning had completely dissolved, replaced by a raw, glowing energy. She grabbed her condensation chilled glass of water, taking a long, grateful swallow before looking across the table at Kim, her green eyes bright with the lingering thrill of the performance.

“Look at you!” Kim exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. “You inherited mom’s vocal chords!”

“I wasn’t that good.” Marie insists, shaking her head.

“Sure you were. Just ask Wasley.”

“Your boyfriend?” Marie shakes her head. “He isn’t here. Or did he sneak in unannounced?”

“Not THAT Wasley.” Kim reaches underneath the table and produces her penguin plushie Wasley, dropping him on the seat next to her, causing a thud due to the lead weights within the penguin. Marie can’t help but laugh.

“You brought your penguin?!”

“Of course!” Kim exclaims. “I never go anywhere without him!”

“Well, since you brought him,” Marie leaned in close, “Wasley, did I sing well tonight?”

Marie pauses for a moment, as if listening intensely to what this penguin plushie has to say. Kimberly, for her part, is enjoying this; she isn’t used to her sister letting loose like this. She is singing karaoke, she is even talking to the plushie. The usually prudish Jones is actually enjoying herself.

“What did he say?” Kim asks, eager to see what Marie will do next. Marie winks playfully.

“He says I should quit the wrestling business and become a singer.”

“He’s got a point!” Kim declares. “Mom almost did that!”

“Yeah, well, she does have three records out from her very brief singing career, but I think when you compare three records to thirteen world titles, it’s obvious that mom fits in better with the professional wrestling. Hell, she’s doing good as a manager, specifically yours.”

“Someone has to keep me on a leash.” Kim snickers. “Now why don’t you get up there and sign up for another, tiger?”

“Oh no way.” Marie shakes her head. “Not tonight. You and I have to leave.”

“What? Why?!”

Kim sounds disappointed. The truth of the matter is that Marie Jones knows what is coming up; Taking Hold of the Flame. It is one of the toughest challenges a wrestler can endure. It is very difficult to win. The Phoenix wants to be ready and she cannot rest on her laurels by wasting time in this bar singing karaoke all night. She wants to get home early so she can get plenty of sleep and wake up tomorrow, rested and refreshed so she can continue her training and preparation for one of the biggest nights on the SCW calendar.

Unfortunately she cannot tell that to Kimberly. Jones wants this to be special. She wants everyone to be surprised when she returns to SCW as a participant in Taking Hold of the Flame and that everyone includes Kimberly herself. Marie just hopes she can come up with a lie good enough that Kimmy, a master manipulator herself, will believe.

“What can I say, Kimmy? I am a prude.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a prude alright.” Kim smirks. “And a party pooper.”

Well the lie worked. Technically, it’s not even entirely a lie. Marie knows that she is a bit of a prude, but she is actively working to be different. She is trying something new. Her mother encouraged her to try being more like Kimberly and that is precisely the purpose of the karaoke night. No one would have expected Marie to put herself out there like this; but Kim? Definitely. And so Kimberly Williams rises out of her seat, followed by Marie Jones. The identical twins methodically make their way through the crowd and out of the bar.

The cool, damp night air of Boston hit Marie like a physical slap. The alleyway alongside the bar was illuminated only by a single, flickering halogen security light that buzzed like a trapped insect, casting long, fractured shadows across the damp asphalt. The laughter that had been bubbling in Marie’s throat froze instantly. Just past the shadow of the commercial grease dumpsters, crumpled on the wet ground like a discarded jacket, was a figure. Marie’s breath caught in her lungs as she recognized the dark leather jacket, now torn and smeared with city grime. It was Percy.

“Oh my God! Percy!”

She dropped her designer purse without a second thought, the expensive leather splashing into a puddle as she sprinted forward and dropped to her knees on the cold, gritty pavement. Her emerald green dress pooled around her in the dirt as she reached out with trembling hands. Percy was breathing, but his respirations were shallow and ragged, his chest rising and falling in erratic, painful hitches. The harsh overhead light caught the severe damage to his face: a deep, jagged laceration split his left eyebrow, swelling his eye completely shut, and a dark smear of crimson trailed from his nose down across his split lips, staining his collar.

Kimberly was right behind her, the playful, rebellious energy completely wiped from her demeanor. She squatted down on the opposite side, her heavy work boots grounding her as her sharp green eyes instantly scanned the alley for threats, her body language shifting into a defensive, protective posture. Her hands stayed steady, but her face grew incredibly grim as she took in the severity of the beating.

“He’s certainly seen better days.” Kim remarks.

“Tell me about it.” Marie answers back. She turns back to Percy. “Percy? Are you ok?! What the hell happened?!” She looks back at Kim. “Call the police!”

“On it!”

Percy groaned, a low, guttural sound of pure agony, as Marie gently cradled his head, her manicured fingers coming away slick with his blood. The very thing she had spent the entire evening trying to outrun had just caught up to them in the dark, and the fragile peace of the night was shattered completely.

“No…” Percy barely manages to speak, but the word was clear.

“What? Are you crazy? You need help!”

“Yeah. Even I know you need the cops and I’m supposed to be the crazy one.” Kim quips.

“No, don’t get the police involved.” Percy says, almost pleading. Please don’t.”

Kim, with phone in hand, looks over at Marie, ready to do whatever she asks, waiting on an answer. The Phoenix knows what the right thing to do is; call the police. But something is off here. She doesn’t feel right about getting them involved; not yet. She sighs.

“Alright, fine.” She says. “Let’s get you out of here.”

==========
June 6th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera
==========

The camera begins to roll and we immediately see “The Phoenix” Marie Jones with her striking, wavy red hair parted down the middle, sitting gracefully on a polished hardwood floor. Jones looks directly at the camera with a calm, composed expression. Her elegant gown features a deep V-neckline and a stark contrast of colors and textures, combining structured cream-colored fabric across the shoulders and bodice with sheer, dark dotted mesh sleeves and a matching flowing skirt. A cream fabric belt with a distinctive gold clasp cinches her waist, while a delicate silver necklace and several rings on her right hand add a subtle touch of shimmer to her ensemble. The Phoenix is positioned indoors just before a threshold leading to an outdoor in her home of Boston, Massachusetts separated by an intricate, dark metal railing. Beyond the balcony rail, vibrant green foliage and leafy trees are visible.

“Surprise!” She starts grinning from ear to ear. “I know, I know, is it really a surprise? I mean, how many times has The Phoenix made a grand return to SCW? How many times have I declared that I would rise from the ashes much like the mythical phoenix and make history once again in SCW only to come up a little short? Hell, if we’re being completely honest, just about everyone says that from time to time. And especially around this time of year, Taking Hold of the Flame, the one night when you can single handedly make history, this company tends to have several people crawling out of the darkness, making secret deals and signing secret contracts, making their surprise return in Taking Hold of the Flame. And by the time you see this, you’ll probably have noticed that I have become one of those many making her own grand return in the legendary battle royal. And the same question has to be asked, the same question I have often asked all the other surprise entrants in the past…” she pauses for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.

“Why now? What makes this time different? My absence from SCW has been longer than usual. I had been dealing with a nagging injury that forced me to stay sidelined. Ask any wrestler worth their salt and they’ll tell you that they hate being sidelined. They want to be in the middle of the action. But I am woman enough to admit that I have been medically cleared for quite some time. So why haven’t I returned sooner? Why haven’t I been right there in the midst of the action fighting side by side with my sister Kimmy?” She sighs and shakes her head. “I was scared that SCW had passed me by, I was scared of returning only to be useless, just taking up a space in catering because I couldn’t hack it. Yes, I was suffering from a bit of a crisis of confidence. But then one day, while working out with my mother, the great Angelica Jones, matriarch of our family, I realized that I cannot and will not allow fear to govern my life. I refuse to let fear dictate my actions.” The Phoenix stands up.

“I am choosing to stare fear right in the eyes and fight back. I choose to spit in the face of fear itself. I choose to return to Supreme Championship Wrestling and have the run I know I am capable of having. I choose to return to SCW because I have a sister who I still want to raise hell with. I choose to return to SCW because I want to fight for what’s right. More importantly, I choose to return to SCW because there is a hell of a lot more left for me to do; I still have a ton of unfinished business. Namely, I am two championships shy of becoming a Supreme Champion. All I need is to win the Adrenaline Title and then the big one, the SCW World Championship.” She snickers knowingly. “Oh and what a coincidence! The winner of Taking Hold of the Flame will be in the main event of Rise To Greatness challenging for the SCW World Championship!” Jones shakes her head.

“And there is no bigger proving ground than Taking Hold of the Flame. If I want to prove to myself, to my fans, and to the locker room that The Phoenix can still go, that The Phoenix is still a threat, and that The Phoenix belongs in the main event of Rise To Greatness than this is the event I need to win. I need to show up and show out with the very best performance I can muster. I need to run the gauntlet of Taking Hold of the Flame. That’s why I choose to return here and now. Returning at a random Breakdown would be just too easy. Taking on thirty nine other competitors in the toughest battle royal in the business today?” She nods her head. “Now we’re talking!”

“This isn’t going to be a flash in the pan. This isn’t going to be a nostalgia run. And I can guarantee you that this time everything will be different. I promise each and every single one of my fans who have never stopped believing in me, I promise all of my supporters, especially Kimmy and our mother, that this run will be monumental, it will be one of the very best runs of my career. Don’t be surprised when you are watching this, post Flame, and you realize you are hearing the words of the WINNER of the 2026 Taking Hold of the Flame and the NEXT SCW World Champion!”

[SnowQueenSCW]

OOC: Here are the roleplays (in order) for Selena and Deanna. Sorry it took so long to get these up, guys. Been a hell of a week.

Frost No More

”Deal with the Devil”

Breakdown
Capitol One Arena
Washington, D.C.
June 4th, 2026

The hallway outside Frank Delatosso’s office felt too small the moment she had stood in front of the man... Which was saying something, considering she had used the space throw Dawn Lohan around. But as soon as he had come forward, it all had just become... too bright, too loud, too small. She wanted to run. To change her mind and flee. Forget about Enigma/Veil, this man was corrupt and powerful on a level that made the former SCW ‘resident monster’ look like some two-bit magician performing at children’s birthday parties!

Yet, for all of that, it only took Deanna a millisecond – conjuring a specific image of Selena into her mind – for her to stand her ground.

Flowing white...
A tiara of vines...
Sapphire eyes full of hope and unshed tears...
A smile brighter than any star in the sky...

The sounds of Breakdown carried on throughout the concrete walls, but all of it felt muffled beneath the weight pressing against her chest.

Five weeks... Five weeks since Hubris. Five weeks since everything had shattered...

Seeing Frank’s eyes register her before him, then travel down to her shoulder then waist, it didn’t take a genius like Ravyn or Selena to see what he was searching for – what she had left in her changeroom. The Adrenaline Championship... Once, carrying the championship had made her feel proud.
Now it felt like another responsibility piled onto a mountain of them: Champion. Mother. Wife. Searcher. Failure.

The last one was the one she couldn't escape. Every morning began the same routine:

A text.
No response.
A call.
Straight to voicemail.
Another message.
Another silence.

Then another day wondering where her wife was - Wondering if she was safe, wondering if she was hurt, wondering if she was angry, wondering if she was alive – the whole process making her stomach twist in knots over and over again.
Deanna squeezed her eyes shut. No. Not now. Not here.

She had stepped in before the thoughts had gotten too loud – and before her nerves failed her. The office was larger than most dressing rooms. A temporary executive space converted from one of the arena suites – it all fit Frank Delatosso’s MO – all glitz to hide the crap underneath..., Deanna thought darkly. What I wouldn’t give to... she stopped the thought before it could even fully be formed. There was a fine line between brazen and stupid. Jumping Dawn and shoving Ericksson? Brazen. Attacking the man that had orchestrated a basic ‘takeover’ of SCW and could eliminate her with a snap of his fingers? Stupid.

Speaking of which, as she took the room in, Deanna saw the ‘acting COO’ or whatever new title he had given himself tonight, move to sit behind a polished desk. She also spotted Eriksson and Dawn Lohan off to one side.

As for Delatosso, he merely offered a smile to the redhead – one that immediately irritated her.

"Deanna Frost."

“Mr. Delatosso...” she almost swallowed her tongue trying to get that name out of her mouth as she felt all eyes on her. Give me fifty to sixty thousands eyes of the fans over the few in this room... she thought nervously, pushing that one image, again, to the forefront of her mind... for courage.

She watched the suited Frank lean back, a confident smirk plastered on his face. "Congratulations on your title defense."
The remark threw Deanna off a little. “What title defences?” she asked.

“Exactly.” in an instant, the smirk had disappeared to be replaced by the coldest expression. “Almost three months without a title defence...” he gave a tilt of his head. “Rest assured, I’ll be reviewing that. A supposed ‘defending champion’ needs to defend said championship. I understand CHBK gave you a bit of ‘wide-berth’ given... recent events-” she heard the scoff escape at the inference. “Certain... failures of certain people... but that ends as of now.”

Deanna had to bite her lower lip to prevent from mouthing off. To tell him to take his veiled threats and shove them where the sun didn’t shine. Instead, she inhaled a strong breath in and out of her nose, centrering herself. “You book it, I’ll defend it.” she answered.

“Splendid.” Frank grinned. “Just want to make sure you’re... ‘properly motivated’.”

In other words, that she wasn’t going to be a thorn in his side for his plans. “I am glad we are both on the same page regarding the well-being of SCW.” he added with finality. “And speaking of well-being...still looking for Selena, I see."

The room immediately became noticeably quieter, Deanna's jaw tightening amidst its increased pressure.

Frank noticed. Of course he noticed. That was exactly why he'd said it. The man practically fed on discomfort.

"Yes." Deanna answered.
"Interesting." Frank replied. "Because after what happened at Hubris, I have to admit... I'm surprised."

Deanna already knew where this was going - and she hated that she knew.

"Surprised?" she asked, playing along.
"That you care."

Silence. She would give him nothing to that bait, even if he didn’t need anything to continue.

Frank tilted his head. "No, really." he added, his fake tone of incredulous-nature on full display. "She forged your name." Deanna's fingers tightened around the armrest of the chair she sat in. "She stole your title shot." He leaned forward, never taking his eyes off of Deanna. "She betrayed you."

Every word landed like a hammer: because they were true. That was the worst part.

It had taken her weeks to be honest with herself about the platinum-blonde’s actions, but when she had... she remembered the realization. Remembered the shock. The disbelief. The hurt. The feeling that the floor had disappeared beneath her feet. The memory still hurt every day.

She saw Frank watching her carefully – waiting... Looking for a crack or a weakness. Some kind of reaction.

Instead Deanna straightened her posture. "It's none of your business." she answered as strongly as she could. "My relationship with Selena is none of your business." She spoke again, a bit stronger. “What happened between us is none of your business and why I still care is none of your business."

She saw Frank's smile fade slightly. Good. It wasn’t much, but it felt as incredible as winning the damn SoA tournament. She wasn't there to entertain him or to explain herself. "I want to find her." she stated with finality. "I don't care what you think about that." She hated the next part – the true part. "I just need your help."

There was silence for a moment, making the redhead more and more uncomfortable... only to be broken as Delatosso laughed. Loudly and with zero hesitation.

"Now that's interesting!" he shook his head. “And how, pray tell, would I be able to assist you in finding that blonde needle in a haystack? I don’t suppose there’s an ice castle you could visit where-”

"Selena is still owed a tag title rematch."

Frank's eyes narrowed slightly at Deanna’s interruption – actually thrown off, if only by the smallest of margins, all pretenses of humour and jovial nature gone. "Continue." he said sharply.
"Xander Valentine is injured." Deanna explained.
"Unfortunately." The sarcasm dripped from every syllable.
Deanna pressed onward.
"CHBK said he would honour Xander's rematch clause."
Frank leaned back in his chair. "He did."
"He said he would allow Xander to choose a partner."
Frank nodded slowly. "And?"

Deanna took a breath. This was it. The idea she'd spent days building. Days hoping might actually work...

"Do the same thing for Selena."

...

The room shifted. Frank's expression didn't change. But she saw the spark in his eye - the interest. The calculation. The businessman emerging.

"Explain." he ordered calmly, his tone never rising.

"Selena is owed a rematch." Deanna moved around the point carefully."I want to propose a rematch...” she gulped at the next part of her idea. “Immediately after the World Championship and Tag Team Championship match at Taking Hold of the Flame. No delays. No excuses. No waiting...” Deanna took another breath.

“And...” Delatosso gave another tilt of his head. “Why do you think I would honour that?” he asked. “That puts Amelia and Luz at an incredible disadvantage. Hardly be fair if I allow Selena to swoop in and steal the tag-team titles from the rightful champions.”

It was at that moment that Deanna notices the television on in the room. Before her eyes, she saw the very episode of Breakdown she was in playing before her, specifically Light in the Darkness fighting against Hollywood. Her eyes softened in worry at the sight of her friends, Luz acting every bit the amazing wrestler that she was.

But Amelia...

Deanna was not blind – she could see it. The same steps, small, but still there. The same descent... but she couldn’t worry about that now. Her own partner needed to be found. She watched as Amelia sucker-punched Gina (or was it Gia?) in the jaw before mouthing off at Luz, the discord between the newlyweds beyond clear with the world title in the picture.

“Seems as if the Glimmers are getting under your world champion’s skin.” Deanna stated, turning her attention back towards Delatosso, who was also watching the match.
“Amelia won her match, didn’t she?”
“Perhaps... but from a former tag-team champion who teamed with their wife? I recognize discord when I see it.”

“Your point?” Frank asked darkly, his eyes narrowing, which almost made Deanna flinch and gulp but she herself, albeit barely.

"My point is that if The Glimmers win the World Championship..." She paused. "Then Selena won't stay away."

That statement landed and everyone in the room understood why: The rivalry. The history. The obsession. The unfinished business.

“I’m not saying that Light in the Darkness won’t prevail.” Deanna pressed a little. “But you know as well as I do that they are playing the Glimmers’ game and by the Glimmers’ rules.”

Frank nodded once. "Maybe."
"Not maybe." Deanna's voice hardened. “And with your new ‘order’ just emerged, how is it going to look if THEY get the world title off Amelia AND hold the tag-team titles at the same time?”

Frank studied her, his eyes narrowing again. It was clear the man did not like the idea. It was one thing to have the Glimmers running around in the tag-team division. That could be semi-controlled. But with the world title? And their egos? After he had just made such a big deal about the new direction of SCW?

No one would take him seriously... and he knew it.

"And her partner?" There it was! The moment!

Deanna swallowed, the words felt heavier than she'd expected. "She can choose one." she offered.
"And?"

With one last, deep breath, Deanna looked him directly in the eye. "Me."

...
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even Delatosso seemed surprised.

"Me." She repeated it. "The House of Frost."

The words hung in the air. House of Frost - Former champions. Former partners. Formerly inseparable. A team built on trust. On friendship. On marriage. On love...

A team shattered by the very woman Deanna was trying so desperately to save – the woman that had betrayed everything the name ‘House of Frost’ stood for. Yet here Deanna was... offering it anyway.

Because none of that mattered if Selena was gone:

Every argument.
Every betrayal.
Every hurt feeling.
Every ounce of anger.
All of it came second to one question. Where are you?

Frank stared at the redhead for far too long than Deanna liked... only to smile again. Except this time, it wasn't amusement. It was curiosity.

"You'd do that." he asked, almost in disbelief. Had... had she really surprised him?
"Yes." Deanna answered.
"After everything?"
"Yes."
A soft, amused chuckle came from the runner of SCW. "Fascinating." he remarked. “Truly, utterly fascinating.”

From the corner of her eyes, Deanna spotted Dawn shift slightly, as if ready to speak. Eriksson did too. Frank raised a hand without even looking their way. Both superstars immediately stopped. The message was clear: Not now.
The silence back in play, Delatosso focused entirely on Deanna. "You love her that much."

The statement felt less like a question and more like a challenge. As if he was trying to disprove what he just heard through sheer fact.

Deanna met his gaze strongly. "I said it's none of your business."

For a second she thought he might push. Instead he smiled - A shark's smile: Predatory, thinking, and calculating. Looking for angles. For a moment, her simply tapped a finger against the desk.

"Interesting proposal." Deanna waited for him to continue. "Financially-speaking... House of Frost sells merchandise." His finger tapped the desk again. "House of Frost moves tickets." Tap. "House of Frost gets attention." Tap. "Selena Frost gets ratings."

There it was: The truth. The thing he cared about.

Not Selena.
Not Deanna.
Not their family.
Not their pain.
Not their marriage.
Ratings. Money. Revenue. Power.

That’s what it came down to and Deanna hated him a little more for it. So many people had been hurt, cheated, and betrayed because of this man’s greed...

"So, yes." he continued, unfettered. "It has merit."

The redhead felt hope flicker in her chest, though it was faint.

Then Frank immediately crushed it. "But."
"But?" Deanna asked.
"I'm not making a decision." Deanna felt her stomach sink all the way down to the floor. "Not until Selena shows up."

The words hit hard, almost taking the breath out of Deanna’s lungs.
"Mr. Dela-"

"No." the man interrupted, his voice sharpened and the room instantly becoming tense.

"You want me to commit resources? You want me to commit airtime? You want me to commit championship matches?" He spread his hands. "Then I need Selena."

Deanna clenched her jaw. " But that's the problem."
"I know."
The answer came too quickly. Too casually, and Deanna mentally cursed herself for not seeing it sooner. Frank knew exactly what he was doing and he enjoyed it.

"You need to find her." he stated.

Deanna looked away.

The words stung because she'd been trying – Gods, had she'd been trying. Every lead. Every contact. Every friend. Every family member. Nothing!

“Or...”The most powerful man in SCW leaned forward.
"Or?" Deanna hated that word.
Frank’s grin returned. "There are other ways."

Her stomach twisted, her mind immediately conjuring up a dozen horrid scenarios over what he could mean. "What...” She tried to keep her voice from shaking. “What are you suggesting?"

Frank's eyes glimmered. "Taking Hold of the Flame."

Deanna couldn’t stop her eyes from widening. Not in intrigue... but in terror.

The battle royal - The winner earning a World Championship opportunity at Rise to Greatness. The biggest stage. The biggest prize. The biggest spotlight.

Frank let the idea sit. And it only made Deanna’s nerves fire off in more panic. “N-no...” she replied shakily.

"Why not?” he shrugged. “If Selena is hiding... Maybe give her a better reason to come out."

The implication was obvious to everyone in the room: Win the royale. Challenge for the world title and offer it to Selena. Force the Snow Queen’s hand. Create something she couldn't ignore either by becoming world champion or miss the main-event the platinum-blonde had owned for five years straight!

But either way... Delatosso won. And he knew it.

"Unless you're worried she still won't care." he dared and Deanna immediately glared.

There it was: The bait. The pressure. The deliberate attempt to exploit every emotional wound she had.

“It’s not that simple.” Deanna stated.
“Oh?” Delatosso asked knowingly. “You went undefeated in that stupid tournament...” He eyed, looking for a reaction but got none, despite the heat burning deep within Deanna’s chest. “Are you saying you can’t win a royale?”

Deanna didn’t hesitate in her honesty. “That’s exactly what I am saying.” she stated. “I’ve never been in the royale before – at least not to win it.” She admitted. Last, and only, time she had entered in it had been to dismantle and hurt Enigma/Veil, immediately eliminating herself to do it. That royale had been merely a means to get to her enemy, not try and win and headline Rise to Greatness! Not to try and become World Champion!

She had no place in it! Her EOY shot had proven it! She wasn’t good enough to last against 39 other wrestlers! It’s why she had avoided this match every other year she could have entered. What the hell did she have against such winners like Cid Turner and Xander Valentine and Josh Hudson and gods knew who else? When entrants like Asher Hayes, Syren, and Kimberly Williams – people that had beat her before – were going to be there?

There was no way... the odds were almost as massive as her turning the corner and RUNNING into Selena Frost then and there!

“So...” Frank pressed. “You’re saying you’re not good enough to win?”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply for a moment, before lifting her head to eye the SCW power-figure. “There isn’t anyone in SCW that believes I am.” Deanna answered. “It’s just a fact.”

“Well...” he shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “I guess that means you don’t love Selena enough to even try.”

She almost hissed at him! Of course the bastard would play that card! He was a heel in a suit. A goddamn snake! Gods, I want to piledrive HIM into the ground!

But again... she couldn’t. Anymore than she could win the royale.

With a shrug, Frank turned his attention away from the champion. "I'll think about your proposal." he stated distantly. “Thank you for stopping by, MS. Frost.” he added.

The words sounded empty – corporate and meaningless.

Deanna stared at him but said nothing. Arguing wouldn't change anything. The meeting was over.

Without a sound, she stood from her chair and turned, walking past Lohan and Eriksson, and opening the door. The hallway felt colder somehow and the uncertainty felt endless.

As she walked towards... towards... she wasn’t even sure where, her thoughts immediately began spiralling again.

What if Selena was hurt?
What if she was sick?
What if she'd simply decided she didn't want to come back?
What if she'd decided she didn't want Deanna anymore?

That thought hurt most of all. Because she couldn't dismiss it like Selena’s actions.

Not completely.
Not after Hubris.
Not after the lies.
Not after the betrayal.
Not after the silence.

A silence she couldn’t explain to their children. To Elsianna trying to act brave. To David trying to understand. To Amiliah simply asking where her mother was.

The memory tightened her chest – constricting. She stopped walking and for a moment she simply stood there, simply trying to breathe. Around her, people were rushing past, seemingly headed to the ring because of some kind of chaos going on... it all paled in comparison to what was going on inside her heart.

The royale – not even Selena, with all her abilities and all her resolve and all her angles – had managed to win the royale. Not even Syren! One of the greatest of all times had done it – failing more than any other person in SCW!

And she had just been told to do what they couldn’t! To do the... the... the impossible...

All for a woman that had betrayed her and abandoned her! WHY?! she almost screamed the question, but what question she was asking... she wasn’t really sure.

A championship match felt easy compared to this. A tournament felt easy. An entire career felt easy! This? THIS?

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she nearly ignored it, only by instinct pulling it out of her pocket.

But as the screen lit up, Deanna froze...
The name immediately caught her attention. ‘Selena’... Her pulse quickened and she almost fumbled the phone, desperately trying to connect to the call. “Selena?! Selena, is that you?!”

There was nothing at first, only silence. But just as Deanna was about to say her name again, she heard someone’s voice on the end. "This Deanna?"

Something about his tone made her stop breathing. “Y-yes.” she whispered, rushing into a corner in the hallway to hide from prying eyes and ears. “This is Deanna. Who is this?”

“It’s Liam, kid.” came the voice, only by name making it recognizable to Deanna. Liam Jacks – Selena’s adoptive uncle in Nome. "Look, I uh... I need you to come here.”
“Come where? To Nome?” Deanna asked. Her mind reeling.
“Yeah.” came the voice again. “She’s here.”

The words hung in the air, almost driving the oxygen out of Deanna’s lungs. “S...Selena?” she asked, too rattled to allow any hope to foster.

“Yeah.” Liam answered. “She’s been here for months but... whatever happened the last time she left here..." she heard him exhale slowly. "...it's worse than any of us thought."

Deanna barely heard the next few words, her mind racing! Nome. Selena. Alive. Found. But not okay.
The uncertainty remained.
The fear remained.
The questions remained.
Yet for the first time in weeks-
There was a direction.

And somewhere thousands of miles away, hidden in Alaska, Selena Frost was waiting...

Whether she wanted to be found or not.

[SnowQueenSCW]

Scars of a Fascade

”The Queen in Exile”

Liam Jacks' Bar and Grill
Nome, Alaska
June 4th, 2026
10:57 PM

The television flickered in the corner, never ending its airing of sports on the same channel. Nobody was watching it. At least nobody except her.

A handful of fishermen occupied one table near the front windows – she could smell some the salt and worms and fish scents coming off them. Two mechanics sat near the far end of the bar discussing truck parts. An older couple shared coffee and pie near the entrance.

A Thursday night.
A normal night.
A quiet night in Nome.

The kind of night Selena Frost had spent most of her life running away from – decades of her life wanting nothing more to than to escape these smells, these people, and the hatred so many of them had carried for ‘The Crazy Miner’s Daughter’.

Now... now she couldn't imagine wanting anything else...

The platinum-blonde sat alone at the far end of the bar, a half-empty glass in front of her. Half-empty?Half-full? She supposed it depended on perspective.

That thought almost made her laugh - almost.

Instead she simply took another drink. The whiskey burned just like she remembered all those years ago. Gods, how had she gone so long without it? The burn was familiar, comforting, and predictable.

Unlike everything else.

The television mounted above the bar continued its show - airing Breakdown live from Washington DC. Occasionally, her eyes would move towards it to take it in, watching the show, as she did every week at this time since she had hidden here.

SCW: Her home. Her kingdom. The company she had spent years carrying on her shoulders... The company she had nearly destroyed.

The irony wasn't lost on her. It was as bitter as the whiskey was burning, maybe more so because she still felt the bitterness despite the drink. The woman once called the Face of SCW was hiding in a bar nearly four thousand miles away while the company moved on without her.

No announcements.
No explanations.
No triumphant returns.
Nothing but a few small questions from people here and there.

The world kept turning.

That realization hurt more than she expected. Because once upon a time, she'd actually believed SCW couldn't survive without her. Or, at least, couldn’t hold a semblance of integrity or truth to its name without her.

How arrogant... she thought in her growing brain fog. How stupid.

The company had survived before Selena Frost. It would survive after her.

The camera on the television focused briefly on Amelia and Luz, causing Selena's sapphire eyes to drift, once more, upward. The sight immediately twisted something inside her chest.

How could she had said any of those things about Amelia? That the young woman wasn’t ready. That the woman didn’t have what it took to become World Champion. But seeing her on the television, world title on her person, didn’t make Selena feel anything but dread. Dread for Amelia – for Luz – for the marriage of Light in the Darkness... and then it was gone. The concern. The care. All buried deep with another swig of whiskey.

The world would just keep moving forward. Only Selena had stopped.

With a sigh, the platinum-blonde, reached into her pocket and pulled out a small orange bottle, eyeing it for a moment.

NX.

Her fingers turned the container over slowly, reading the label despite knowing every word already. She hated the bottle. Hated what it represented and hated what it meant. Even so, she unscrewed the cap anyway, pulled out two pills and dry swallowed them.

No hesitation. No guilt. Not anymore.

The guilt belonged elsewhere. The NX, like her drinking, was simply another way to stop feeling. Another way to make the hours pass. Another way to survive until sleep finally arrived.

If sleep arrived... she thought dryly. It didn't always come - not lately.

Because every time she closed her eyes... Hubris waited. Always waiting. Always replaying.

Again.
Again.
Again.

The memory appeared so vividly she could practically hear the crowd and feel the canvas beneath her boots. She could go back and relive that moment of pinning Gavin Taylor to the mat, the hand of the official coming down for a third time! Milliseconds from victory!

She'd had it. Gods help her, she'd had it. The match was won. She knew it. Everyone knew it!

Everything had finally aligned: The title.
The redemption.
The future.
The fix.
All of it.

She remembered that moment there, the hand drawing closer to the mat – like time was slowing to allow her to savour this feeling. Allow her to believe. ACTUALLY believe! Believe everything would be okay!

She would become World Champion! She would fix SCW! She would stop Delatosso! She would stop the corruption! She would make things right!

And after that...

After that she would go home! She would sit Deanna down! Tell her everything! Every ugly detail! Every selfish thought! Every fear! Every mistake! Every reason!

She would explain.

Then she would spend the rest of her life making it right. Making up for it. Making up for forging her name. Making up for stealing her opportunity. Making up for every broken promise. Every lie. Every betrayal. She would earn forgiveness! Not ask for it. Earn it like she had every other thing she had gained in this life!

That had been the plan. And it would come true! Just as soon as the official’s hand slapped the mat for a third time!

Selena blinked as a yell came from one of the fishermen, asking for another drink. Her reality came crashing down on top of her, her delusion gone.

She wasn’t in SCW – she was watching it. She wasn’t in Manhattan or Washington DC, she was far from it. And she wasn’t world champion. She was... she was nothing...

One moment.
One split second.
One unforeseen variable.

Just like the Battle Royal last year with Cid returning and eliminating while her back was turned and focused on eliminating Xander.

Just like Rise to Greatness. Cid sneaking up from behind and catching her just as she was about to unhook the world title!

Just like every other moment she'd reached for destiny only for destiny to laugh in her face.

And just like it... it was all gone. Everything was gone: The championship. The redemption. The future. The purpose. All stolen in an instant.

In the blink of an eye, she had gone from pinning the world champion to be choked out by Amelia, her mind, too confused to process what was happening, acting in two different ways – one trying desperately to reach the ropes and the other trying to keep some part of her, any limb or body part, on Gavin to get the ref to keep counting, her mind just screaming, Count the pin! Count the three!! over and over again until it had all gone dark...

The glass tightened in her hand, but she didn’t throw it like she had other occasions like this. Part of her still wanted to blame someone. Gods, it would be easier if she could!

Blame CHBK.
Blame Frank Delatosso.
Blame the contract.
Blame the politics.
Blame the match structure.
Blame the fact she'd been promised one thing and given another.

Hadn't that happened before? Hadn't Rise to Greatness stolen her moment the same way? Hadn't she been manipulated? Hadn't she been screwed? The arguments were there on the edges of her mind – ready and waiting and... and... and convenient.

Because every single one collapsed beneath a single fact. A fact she couldn't escape. A fact she saw every time she looked in a mirror. A fact more devastating than losing any championship.

The fact that she didn't belong in that match in the first place. Not really. Not after what she'd done. Not after how she'd gotten there.

The title opportunity had belonged to Deanna, not her.

Deanna. The realization hit just as hard now as it had five weeks ago, causing Selena to just stare into her drink. The reflection staring back looked unfamiliar – Older. Tired. Broken. Ashamed. Warped. The woman in the glass wasn't the Snow Queen and wasn't the Face of SCW. Wasn't the icon and wasn't the leader.

She was a thief.
A liar.
A fraud.

The whiskey suddenly tasted bitter – and she drank anyway.

I deserve bitterness.

That was the only honest thought that kept coming her. What she deserved. It wasn’t a world title. It wasn’t a main-event spot. It wasn’t a nickname like ‘Face of SCW’ or ‘Snow Queen’. It was just that she deserved bitterness. Bitterness and so much worse...

A large hand settled another glass nearby. Selena didn't look up – she didn’t have to. She knew who it was.

"That's your fourth."

“Going for a new record.” Selena half-laughed as she gazed up at the man standing before her.

Liam Jacks. The man who had looked out for her most of life. Her father’s old friend. The man who had saved her life more than once... and the man currently watching her destroy herself.

“Not something to be proud of, Frosty.” Liam remarked, moving the glass a little beyond her immediately reach. Selena’s sigh was immediate – heavy and tired.

They’d had this conversation for weeks – just like the next one she knew was coming.

"You haven't eaten." Liam started.
"I'm not hungry." Selena responded knowingly. “And there are calories in the whiskey.”
"That's not an answer."
"Sure it is." Selena shrugged. “I also drank that water you gave me a minute ago.”
“That was an hour ago.” Liam corrected.
“Time flies when you’re having fun!” Selena laughed, though she wasn’t sure what was so funny.

Liam remained standing there: Patient, stubborn, infuriating... Family. The worst combination imaginable for the platinum-blonde.

"You're killing yourself." he stated.
"If I was killing myself, you'd know." Selena sighed. “It involve a big balcony on the tallest tower of a castle about the clouds! I’d just... fewwwwooooo.” She made a sound like sailing – or falling – through the air. “Just let myself fly, you know? Like Grandma taught me...”

The statement wasn't entirely untrue, but Liam didn’t have to know that.

"Don't joke about that." he warned.
"I'm not." Selena shrugged, resting the side of her head on her hand. “I’d fly away from all of this! No one would have to look up... or care.”

Silence immediately followed as the television continued playing.

The crowd roared somewhere thousands of miles away as the wrestlers continued going on without any thought about where she was.

The large man before her folded his arms over his keg of a body. "You need help."

She scoffed at the word. Help. She hated it.

“Help implies I deserved saving.” she answered, shaking her head against her hand. “Help implies there was something left worth saving. Help implies redemption. Forgiveness. Recovery.” she turned her eyes away from the television to gaze at her uncle. “I don’t believe in any of those anymore.”

"Selena..."
"Nope." Selena shook her head again, which felt heavier. “Zero belief!” she stated. “I never should have left her to begin with! Everyone ends up back here, right? Can’t escape the frozen hell that is Nome, Alaska! I didn’t escape!” she laughed. “I just took a thirteen-year vacay, right?!”

She saw Liam’s jaw tighten. "You can't keep doing this." His eyes shifted to the NX bottle sat beside her drink. Both of them noticed it but neither commented. The silence said enough.

Liam looked away first. "You got your kids. You don’t think they miss you."

The words landed hard and painfully. Because unlike the rest of the world... That wound still bled.

Elsianna.
David.
Amiliah.

Three names. Three reasons she should have gone home, and three reasons she hadn't.

Because what would she tell them? What explanation existed? How did she explain becoming the villain? How did she explain betraying their other mother? How did she explain choosing ambition over love? How did she explain destroying everything she'd spent years teaching them?

Selena merely shook her headn. She couldn't. There wasn't an explanation. All she had left were excuses and the memory of her eldest child slapping her across the face.

"You need to call them." Liam pressed, seeing the memories fly across Selena’s eyes.
"No."
"You need to talk to Deanna."
"No."
"Why?"

Selena finally looked up. The answer was so obvious she couldn't believe he had asked.

"And say what, Liam?” she glared at the man. “Say I’m sorry for the millionth time? That I’m sorry for screwing up for the millionth time? Sorry for hurting her again for the MILLIONTH time?” she refused to look away. “Malcolm Scythe didn’t FUCK things up as badly as I did, Liam!” she all but yelled that last part. “He’d be let into heaven with open arms before I was given another chance!”

There was a silence between them, Liam’s eyes flitting over to his other customers before returning to Selena, which was enough for the Snow Queen to quiet herself to avoid causing a scene. “She deserves better." she finished with a mumble, returning to her drink.

"That's not your decision." he whispered.
"She deserves someone better than this." Selena replied with no further emotion, the decision already set in her mind.

"Kid-" he tried, his tone softening.
"I betrayed her, Liam.” she sighed. “What part of that is too complex?”

The words came faster now – raw and unfiltered.

"I forged her name. I stole from her – something she rightfully earned. I lied to her." with every confession, she felt the weight increase on her heart. Another breath. Another drink. They all failed to suppress the truth. "I became everything I hated."

The television continued playing as she said there. Nobody in the bar paid attention to them or the television. Nobody except her. Nobody except the woman falling apart one sentence at a time.

For a moment, the thought came to her and she chuckled softly at it.

"Do you know what's funny?" His face suggested he didn't. "All those years... All those years talking about integrity." Another laugh. "I talked about doing things the right way." Another laugh, more bitterness. "Standing up for people. Being better." The final words emerged barely above a whisper. "And then I wasn't."

The silence afterwards felt endless. The television cut to another segment: another match, another story. Another future that no longer included her. And she didn’t care.

Liam eventually spoke. "You made a mistake."

Selena actually smiled -  a sad smile. "A mistake?"
"Yeah."

"A mistake is forgetting an anniversary. A mistake is missing a flight. A mistake is burning dinner." The smile disappeared. "What I did was a choice."

The distinction mattered far more than anyone seemed willing to understand. She had chosen:

Chosen ambition.
Chosen obsession.
Chosen desperation.
Chosen the title.

And now she had to live with that.

Because if she blamed anyone else... Anyone other than her – the person that had willingly made that choice.

Liam sat beside her. For a long moment neither spoke. The clock continued ticking past eleven. The bar remained generally quiet beyond the rabble of the those talking in their booths and chairs.

Outside, darkness consumed Nome, not so different from the darkness that consumed Selena.

Eventually Liam spoke again. "You know this isn't what your father would've wanted."

Her father, Donovan Frost. The man that became Jonathan VanHohenheim when he had lost his memory. The man that, in his days as a Frost, had taught her compassion. Taught her forgiveness. Taught her how to keep working and striving to achieve what you believe in. The man that had believed Selena could become something extraordinary.

Selena stared at her drink.

"Donovan Frost died years ago." Selena remarked. “Jonathan VanHohenheim doesn’t know what to think of me.”
"You know he wouldn't want this." Liam tried. “No matter what he may or may not remember.”

She was about to say something when she looked up and spotted the flash of red on the screen as Deanna was attacking Dawn Lohan. “Oh that’s funny!” Selena laughed, genuinely. “My ex and my ex fighting each other! If it’s over me, I’ll be flattered!” she teased, not meaning it. However, when she saw Deanna step into the office after Frank Delatosso, she couldn’t help the spike of worry that penetrated through her whisky-fuelled fog. “Why is she talking to him?”

“About you it seems...” Liam remarked, having watched the same show and, seemingly, invigorated in his argument. “You know she’s been looking for you.”

“I know.” Selena sighed. She had lost count over the number of text and voicemails she had gotten from Deanna in the last few weeks. They’ll stop soon enough... she had reasoned each day.

"You know she wouldn't want this." She mentally cursed at Liam’s remark. Of course he was right. Deanna wouldn’t want to see Selena like this. Deanna would, flat-out, hate this: the drinking, the pills, the isolation, the surrender.

Selena could practically hear the lecture and see those emerald eyes glaring at her. Could hear the stubborn insistence that things could still be fixed.

That there was still hope. That there was still a path forward.

The problem was that Deanna still believed in people. And Selena didn’t. Not in people, SCW, or herself.

Another roar erupted from the television. The camera showed Breakdown continuing without her. Without the woman who had once stood at the center of everything.

And yet, now, the realization felt strangely peaceful. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe SCW was better off. Maybe Deanna was better off. Maybe everyone was.

Maybe disappearing had been the most useful thing she'd done in years!

The thought should have frightened her. Instead it simply made her tired - so very tired.

Selena stood up, feeling her spine crack and pop with her movements, surprising Liam.

"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Bathroom."

He nodded, watching her carefully, as she stumbled her way over the familiar path towards the ladies’ room. In truth, she hated making him worry. But what could she do about it? It was just another thing to add to the list. Another debt she'd never repay.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the bathroom and felt the room sway slightly - Not much. Just enough. Thank the whiskey, the NX, the exhaustion, and the depression...

It took her longer than she would have liked to do her business, but as she washed her hands and saw her reflection in the mirror, she suddenly paused...

Not because she had an epiphany. Not because hope suddenly appeared, but because she felt a strange feeling. A fleeting thought – a memory...

White fabrics...
Red mane of hair...
Emerald eyes...
Sunlight...
Home...

The image appeared so suddenly it almost stole her breath. And for one dangerous second she considered turning around and going back. Calling the number that had called her so many times. Sending a reply text to the many she had ignored. Something. Anything! Something to fix-

Like her delusions of Hubris... Reality returned. The betrayal returned. The shame returned. And the moment vanished. Destroyed in a second.

Selena lowered her head at her own reflection, unable to look at it again. Instead, she reached for her NX bottle, only to realize she had left on the bar counter with her phone.

“Right...” she muttered. “Lose my own wife if it wasn’t attached to my shoulders.” she tried, not caring how wrong she had gotten the saying as she stumbled out of the bathroom.

Liam would give her a ride home, he always did, well simultaneously discouraging her from sleeping in a cave, but she was half out of it by now anyway, not like she’d care.

Nope. For the first time in her life, Selena Frost wasn't caring.
Wasn’t fighting.
Wasn't planning.
Wasn't chasing destiny.
Wasn't chasing championships.
Wasn't trying to save anyone.

She had simply...surrendered.

And somewhere deep down, beneath the guilt and shame and exhaustion, a terrible question lingered in the darkness.

Not whether she could come back. Not whether she could be forgiven. Not whether she could fix what she had broken.

But whether she even wanted to try anymore...

[SnowQueenSCW]

Frost No More

”Taking Hold of Hope”

The Frost Gold Mine
Outside Nome, Alaska
June 6th, 2026
8:13 PM

The truck disappeared down the dirt road behind her, and for several moments, Deanna Frost simply stood there, letting the cold, night air flow past her. The wind rolled across the Alaskan landscape, carrying the scent of pine, stone, and distant ocean water. The evening sky glowed northern twilight. It was beautiful... especially considering the almost jaw-like entrance that stood before her.

The Frost Mine.

The sight made her feel equal parts relief and frustration.

"Oh, you idiot." The words escaped her before she could stop them, but she refused to take them back. Of course! Of course this would be where Selena went.

Deanna rubbed her free hand across her face in frustration. Weeks! Weeks she had spent searching - Calling everyone. Following every lead. Checking every possibility.

And somehow she had never seriously considered this place. THE MOST OBVIOUS PLACE TO LOOK!

But maybe that was what it seem obvious now. Because it didn't make sense... Not emotionally. Not for Selena. Not for the woman who had spent so much of her life trying to escape Nome. Trying to escape being ‘The Crazy Miner’s Daughter’. Trying to escape the loneliness and cruelty she'd endured here.

Even as she stood there, a mix of hope and fear gripping every part of her, the idea that Selena would willingly come back... that she would stay... that this place – of all places! - would become her sanctuary...

It felt completely backwards! Which was exactly why Deanna hadn't thought of it.

But it was the place nobody would expect. The place nobody would understand. The place where the world couldn't reach her.

A humourless laugh escaped Deanna. "You really are impossible, minx." she sighed, the wind offering no answer to her assessment. Only silence.

Yet, Liam had known. And Deanna trusted Liam. Casting a glance back, she managed to just see his truck pull up and down a hill and disappear from sight. The bar owner had called a few days ago, prompting her to make get to Nome as fast as she was able – not so easy consider Selena was the one with the private plane! Still, she had made it and Liam had taken her to the cave, explaining everything that he couldn’t say in the brief time he had had Selena’s phone.

What he had said? Deanna couldn’t remember it all: drinking, NX, every reveal was a punch to the gut for the redhead, the idea of Selena – HER Selena – falling so far, faster and faster with each day. But more importantly... Liam had sounded scared.

Not panicked.
Not terrified.
Just scared.
The kind of scared that came from watching someone slowly disappear.

The memory tightened her chest. For a moment she almost turned back toward the road – almost. Then she thought of Selena...

Not the woman from Hubris.
Not the woman who had forged her signature.
Not the woman who had stolen her championship opportunity.
The real Selena.

The woman who had taught Deanna what courage actually looked like. The woman who had stood beside her through every nightmare imaginable... The woman she loved.

A white dress
A tiara of vines and gems amidst platinum-blonde hair
A smile of love and hope...

Deanna adjusted the camera hanging from her shoulder before she picked up the lamp and started walking. She kept her eyes forward, only catching glimpses of light that made the shadows dance across the cave walls. Before she knew it, she had pressed the lever and switch to activate the old elevator, hearing it creak and groan as it pulled itself upwards towards her. She stepped in before she could overthink it, hitting the down button down to the only floor available.

She hated how quickly the memories returned. The last time she had been here. Killjoy...

The name alone made her stomach knot: A face identical to Selena's. A smile utterly different. The same voice. The same features. The same sapphire eyes. Yet those eyes had held something Selena never could – or Deanna had thought so until this past year...

Malice.
Cruelty.
Murder.

Deanna remembered standing in these tunnels - Remembered the fear and uncertainty. The realization that one wrong decision could get her killed. Remembered how every instinct had screamed at her to run.

Instead she had stayed - because Selena had needed her. Because some things mattered more than fear.

The elevator shuddered as it came to the stop and the doors opened, the cold air greeting her. Stepping out, she gazed into the depths. The darkness seemed endless, the mine stretching far beyond what her lamp could illuminate - massive tunnels that disappeared into blackness. Ancient support beams that vanished into shadows. Stone walls that glimmered faintly with traces of mineral deposits.

She had forgotten how enormous this place truly was. Had Donovan carved all of this? Or had it been the miners before him? Or maybe nature itself? She honestly didn't know.

Maybe nobody does now... she thought. Time had a way of erasing the so much of the past...

Continuing to walk, Deanna eyed the large cavern she, eventually entered, her own steps echoing through the tunnels and up towards – she wasn’t even sure where.

"Selena?" Her voice echoed with her steps, then disappeared.

Nothing answered, making her heart sink a little. Still, she kept walking - boots crunching against gravel and the lamp swaying gently beside her.

"Selena?" she called again. And again: only silence. The mine felt impossibly large. Large enough to hide a hundred people – a whole village in case of emergencies. Large enough to swallow entire lives. Large enough to lose yourself inside forever.

But Deanna continued deeper, determination carrying her forward. Of course, fear walked right beside determination... Mostly because part of her knew that if Selena truly wanted to hide... She could.

That’s what Nome was good for. Disappearing from the world... forever.

"Selena!" she called out more urgently, the name echoed through stone corridors. Once more: No answer. No movement. No sound. No sign.

Yet Deanna refused to believe she wasn't here

She could feel it. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was stubbornness. Probably stubbornness. she admitted.

Eventually, she reached a large cavern. One she vaguely remembered. The ceiling rose high overhead. Natural stone columns stretched upward into darkness. Ancient mining equipment sat abandoned nearby.

This will work.

Decided, the redhead set down the lamp and began assembling the camera.

Tripod.
Camera.
Lighting.
Recording settings.

Deanna handled it all. “I know you’re there.” she called out. “Even if you don’t want to come out.” she stated. “That’s fine.” she sighed. “You can just listen to what I’m about to say...”

Eventually she finished her assembly and checked the power on the camera. The red recording light blinked and she quickly moved into position, took a breath...

Finally she looked directly into the camera.
_____________________________________________________________

The camera opens up to a dark cave, illuminated only by a bit of lighting. The cave wall is a dark stone, but standing in front of it, dressed in a sweater, coat and a mane of red hair is the SCW Adrenaline Champion, Deanna Frost.

With a shrug, she keeps her eyes on the camera, her voice echoing a little amongst the stone walls.

So... where do we start? she gives an honest shrug, letting the question sit before speaking.

People have asked me why... Her voice echoes softly through the cavern.

Why am I doing this? Why am I spending so much time trying to find Selena. Why am I spending so much time when... I’m the SCW Adrenaline champion and I’ve... I’ve not been able to get through a match in weeks. I’ve not been able to defend the championship like I wanted to because of everything that happened...

And I... I can’t deny it anymore. she gazes at the camera.

It’s the worst kept secret in SCW. And I can’t deny it’s existence. I was... I was hurt. Yes, Selena forged my name. Yes, I then allowed her to go through with it and take the championship shot for herself. And yes... she sighs, running a hand through her hair. Yes, I would do it all again...

She looks away from the camera for a moment, as if to compose herself. I’d make the same choice, knowing what it meant. Knowing what it could do and what it would cost me. But I’d do it again if I had to. Because it’s... she sighs, unable to find the words. I suppose it’s the same reason I’ve been looking for Selena this whole time. And why... why I am announcing here and now my intention to enter into the SCW Taking Hold of the Flame royale...

She bites her lower lip hard, trying to control her own warring emotions.

And again... probably a ‘why’ in there. Why enter Taking Hold of the Flame? She folds her arms over her chest.

Honestly? I've been asking myself the same question... and questioning the same reason that came to mind... The sadly-amused smile fades from her features. Because think about it! Forty competitors. Forty!

Former world champions.
Hall of Famers.
Future Hall of Famers.
Past winners potentially
People who've accomplished things I'll probably never accomplish.

She shrugs her shoulders. And then there’s me... and all the names that came along with me... "The lesser Frost." or “The poor person’s Selena”. Maybe they're right. She glances away briefly, then returned her attention to the camera. Maybe all of this is because I can’t exist without Selena around in some capacity. Maybe I can’t be what Selena was or what the Frost name should be about or I can’t do the same good in SCW that she did – I don’t know!

Her voice echoes a bit stronger throughout the cave, bouncing off the walls as she calms herself. But this isn't about proving them wrong.
This isn't about becoming World Champion.
This isn't even about main-eventing Rise to Greatness!

For a moment, the cave is absolutely quiet as Deanna lets her words settle.

This is about you.

And you know exactly who I'm talking to....

Her emerald eyes never leave the lens. Five years. You've main-evented Rise to Greatness for five consecutive years. Pride of SCW. Face of SCW. Snow Queen. Legend.

Her smile vanishes. And now? Pain flickered across her expression. Now you're hiding.
Now you're running.
Now you're trying to convince yourself that none of it mattered.

She shakes her head. No. she speaks a little stronger. No!

No, You don't get to do that! You don't get to erase everything you've done. You don't get to erase every life you've changed. You don't get to erase every person you've inspired. You don't get to erase yourself!

Deanna’s voice trembles a little as the emotion rips through her - barely restrained.

Because whether you believe it or not... I remember!

She pauses for only a moment.

I remember the woman that took me out of Kentucky and who taught me integrity!
I remember the woman who taught me courage when she faced stables and monsters and villains that would terrify anyone else!
I remember the woman who believed people deserved second chances! People like Regan! Like Kelcey! Like Kennedy! Like me!

A bitter smile crosses her features. I remember the woman who believed everybody deserved saving. I remember the woman that was too afraid to chase the world championship because she didn’t believe she was deserving or ready. And I remember the woman that refused to let anyone do wrong in SCW without them being held accountable...

The words hang heavily as Deanna takes a slow breath.

You made mistakes. Gods know you made mistakes. I know that better than anyone. But you're not the only one responsible... Deanna lowers her eyes briefly. I am too... I helped create this.

Her voice becomes quieter. [color=red]I helped put expectations on you.
I helped convince you that you always had to come back and be perfect.
I helped make you believe the world needed you to carry everything.
Even when you warned me... I kept pushing you to come back and save SCW... even when we knew what the SCW Universe thought of you...

She shakes her head. That's on me too. But that doesn’t mean you get to run away and not be accountable! That’s not how we do things! That’s not what our name stands for! That’s not... that’s not what we taught our children!

The redhead takes a deep breath, steadying her shaky nerves. You owe us all so much... me, Amelia, CHBK, even Syren and Xander! You don’t get to just hide away and leave us to clean up that mess!

So... here’s my offer...

She takes another breath. If I win Taking Hold of the Flame...
If I somehow survive thirty-nine other competitors...
If the impossible happens...

Her gaze hardens. I'll give you the opportunity. I'll hand you the main event.


Silence. She doesn’t even break it for a few seconds as the cave seems to absorb the declaration.

You want Rise to Greatness? I'll give it to you.
You want another world championship match? I'll give it to you.
You want your place back? I'll give it to you!

She points directly into the camera. But you have to come back!

The challenge is unmistakable but Deanna presses on.

You have to stop hiding.
You have to stop running."
You have to fight!
Not for a championship.
Not for SCW.
Not for redemption... a slow breath. For yourself...

Her eyes glisten slightly. Because if I can face forty wrestlers with integrity and honor – things YOU taught me! – then so can you! Whether you believe you can or not!

Another small bought of silence as Deanna composes herself. You always taught me that people are worth fighting for. Well congratulations.... Because now I'm fighting for you.

A long pause followed as Deanna exhales. And yes... I'm terrified!

Have you seen who's in this thing? Syren, Kimberly, Evans, Grant, Hayes, Cruze, Polly... Former world champions. Elite competitors. People who could throw me over the top rope before I finish introducing myself!

She shakes her head. I know what I am saying! I know it’s impossible! I’ve avoided this royale for so many years because I know how impossible it is! Because if you couldn’t do it! If Syren couldn’t do it! If none of them could do it... what chance does the ‘Lesser Frost’ have?

The honesty isn’t a show to boost attention and belief. It’s as real as the terror Deanna feels at the overwhelming odds. After everything... holding titles for over a year... going undefeated in a tournament... coming back from mental breakdowns... and I still don't know if I'm good enough. I still don't know if I belong. I still don't know if I'll last ten minutes.

Another breath as she steadies herself. But I know why I'm trying. Because this means more than a title shot. More than a main event. More than a championship...

Her eyes never waver. This is about the most important person in my life... which makes this the most important match of my life...

A final pause.

I'm coming for the impossible... she declares with finality. And if I find it before you do... she gives a genuine smile. I'll save your seat.

The recording continues for a few seconds longer more before Deanna steps forward and turns it off, sending the video to black.
_____________________________________________________

The cavern fell silent...

No audience.
No applause.
No reaction.
No catchphrase at the end this time...

Just darkness. Just stone. Just her.

For a moment, Deanna merely stared into the shadows. Waiting, hoping, listening.

Then her composure cracked - Not completely, but just enough.

"Okay." Her voice sounded smaller than it had when the camera was recording... more vulnerable. "I'm done pretending I’m alone." She looked deeper into the darkness.

"Selena..." Nothing answered. Still she continued. "I know you’re here."

It wasn’t a question this time.

"I know you are." Her throat tightened. "I don't know where. I don't know what you're thinking. I don't know what happened after Hubris." The next words nearly broke her. "But I know you're hurting."

Silence. Her eyes burned.

"You idiot." A shaky laugh escaped. "You absolute idiot." Tears threatened to fall but who would see them in this dark cave. Despite that truth, she fought them.

"I've spent weeks looking for you." The admission emerged quietly. "Weeks. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't think." Another breath. “Every phone call..." Her voice cracked. “I kept wondering if it would be someone telling me..."

The sentence wouldn't finish. She couldn't make it finish. Instead she swallowed hard.

"I was scared..." The words echoed. "I am scared. Because I didn’t want my last words to you to be something that I didn’t mean..." her mind flashed back to that moment. Staring into Selena’s eyes in their ‘Forever Home’, telling the Snow Queen that she should, maybe, keep her date with that balcony after Rise to Greatness...

Keep that date and jump off it...

Deanna looked around the cavern. “I didn’t mean it...” she said. “I couldn’t... I wouldn’t...” she took a slow breath again, drawing that image to her mind again.

White dress
A tiara of vines
Sapphire eyes of hope and love...

"Elsianna tries not to ask anymore." A weak smile. "Which somehow makes it worse." she kept going. "David keeps pretending he understands." Another pause. "Amiliah still asks where Mommy is."

Silence followed, which caused Deanna to lowered her head. "I don't know what to tell her. I don't know."

She released a trembling breath. "I don't know how to explain any of this... Please."

The word emerged barely above a whisper. "Please talk to me."

Silence answered. Only silence.

The mountain remained still. Ancient. Unmoving.

“SELENA!” her voice suddenly cried out, ripping through the cavern like the blast of a bomb! Ringing in its pitch up and through every corner and crack of stone before slowly, the ringing stopped and silence returned.

I think the strongest ending is not another plea. You've already exhausted Deanna emotionally. The scene's final movement should be acceptance of uncertainty and commitment to action. Deanna came here looking for Selena and leaves without answers—but with purpose. Meanwhile, Selena is affected precisely because Deanna *stops begging* and starts moving forward.

Something like:

The echoes slowly died.

The cavern returned to silence.

No footsteps.

No voice.

No platinum-blonde woman emerging from the darkness.

Nothing.

Deanna stood there for several seconds, chest heaving from the force of her own scream. The sound of Selena's name still seemed to linger in the stone around her, refusing to completely disappear, but eventually even that faded, leaving only the mountain, silence, and reality.

The redhead closed her eyes.

For a moment, disappointment threatened to overwhelm her. The little spark of hope she had carried all the way from Washington, all the way from Manhattan, all the way to Alaska wanted desperately to break apart.

She had found the place. She had found the mine. But she still hadn't found Selena.

A shaky breath escaped her. Then another. Then more and more. Still, she did not shatter... she did not break there and then in the cave.

Slowly, she simply bent down and picked up her camera, folded the tripod, gathered the lamp, and collected every piece of equipment she had brought with her. Because there was nothing else to do - not tonight.

"Fine." The word echoed softly - Not angry or bitter or even defeated... Just tired. "You always were stubborn."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite everything. She adjusted the camera strap on her shoulder and looked one final time into the darkness.

"If you're listening..." Her voice was quieter now, but far steadier. "...then listen carefully."

The emerald eyes that had spent weeks filled with fear now held something else...Resolve.

"I meant every word." she paused. "I am entering that battle royal. And I'm going to give it everything I have."

The words hung in the air, the promise hanging thickly within it.

"You don't have to believe in yourself." Her throat tightened. "But I still do."

Her smile disappeared. "And if that's stupid..." she gave a small shrug. "Then I guess we're both idiots."

With that said, she turned towards the tunnel. Towards the elevator, the glow of the light shining against the vast darkness of the mine. The mountain was silent once more as she exited the elevator and re-entered the world of Nome.

Yet somewhere within that silence, hidden deep among the stone and shadows, one final sentence remained.

Not Deanna's scream.
Not her tears.
Not even her promise of Rise to Greatness.

Just four simple words that meant everything she had just said.

You don't get to disappear...

And for the first time in weeks, those words hurt far more than any loss within SCW ever could...

[SnowQueenSCW]

OOC: Royal Letter is sent to one person and only one person...

Scars of a Fascade

”The Heart in the Cavern”

The Frost Gold Mine
Outside Nome, Alaska
June 6th, 2026
8:57 PM

Selena Frost sat motionless in the darkness. She hadn't moved since she'd heard the elevator. The old machinery had groaned through the mine nearly an hour ago, carrying its passenger down into the depths.

She had known who it was immediately. Because nobody else would come...

Nobody else would be stupid enough.
Nobody else would care enough.
Nobody else would still be trying.
Except one person...

Deanna. Of course it was Deanna!

Even now, sitting in the darkness, Selena could still hear her voice bouncing through the tunnels - Calling her name. Searching and refusing to quit or leave. Refusing to let her just disappear.

Just like almost a year ago on that damn balcony... She should have just let me go... Selena squeezed her eyes shut. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. Because she had heard every word.

Every single one.

The announcement.
The challenge.
The offer.
The confession.
The scream.
All of it.

And she had sat here in the dark and listened to it all, hating herself through every part. Not for the first time, she was grateful for the darkness’ concealment. It kept anyone from seeing the tears she felt stinging her eyes – which was only beaten by the ones that had already fallen. Not that anyone would see ‘The Great Selena Frost’ cry.

That was the point.

She’d finally realized how to make SCW better – how to make everything better and fix everything. For longer than she cared to check – years it felt like – she had taken on the persona of The Blue-Eyed Devil, taking on the hate of the SCW Universe while still trying to do what was best for SCW. To fix what everyone was too afraid to fix.

Well... she had failed. Time and time again she had failed. What was worse – no matter how much she succeeded, she only made things worse in the process. Every choice, every call, every plan, she had been driven to near obsession to be just give the same chances everyone had been given, yet she had been judged and booked differently than the rest. Told she had to ‘earn it’ over and over again by CHBK and then by that scumbag, Frank Delatosso.
And the spiral downward continued, with her just wanting to do the same thing: fix SCW...

Until... until she had realized the only to fix it... remove the biggest problem to SCW.

The person stealing main-events with rematch clauses.
The person attacking contenders because they had been picked.
The person stealing her own wife’s title shot to insert herself into the world picture.

In short... the biggest problem in SCW... had become her.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat as she pressed the back of her head against the cold stone wall. She had finally done it. Done something right for SCW.

She’d stopped making things worse...

Right. she sneered at the excuse. How many times had she told herself that?

How many bottles ago?
How many pills ago?
How many sleepless nights ago?

The answer had long since stopped mattering.

In the dark, she felt her fingers tremble slightly. Whether it was from the exhaustion, alcohol, withdrawal, or fear, she honestly couldn't tell anymore. Maybe it’s all four.

Around her, the mine smelled like dust and stone... And failure. Yes, apparently, failure had a smell - she knew that now. It smelled like stale whisky, sweat, old blankets, and hopelessness.

Like sitting in darkness because you couldn't stand the idea of seeing yourself anymore.

A sharp breath escaped her and she pressed her palms against her eyes.

No. she told herself, but the thoughts kept coming. The words wouldn’t stop. Because Deanna's voice wouldn't stop:

You don't get to erase yourself.

The sentence struck again. And again. And again.

Selena swallowed hard. How? That was the question she couldn't answer. How?

How could Deanna say those things?
How could she believe them?
How could she possibly still look at Selena and see anything worth saving?
It didn't make sense!
Nothing about it made sense!!

Not after Hubris. Not after the forgery. Not after the lies. Not after all the manipulation. Not after everything I did!!

A shaky laugh escaped the former champion. Maybe Deanna really was insane. That would actually explain a lot, including their marriage, divorce and reconciliation and then... whatever this was...

Because what sane person would still be standing here fighting for me?! What sane person would spend weeks searching? What sane person would willingly hand over a Rise to Greatness main event? What sane person would stand in front of forty competitors and say—

I'm fighting for you.

Selena's stomach twisted. No. No! Don't think about it. Don't! her mind roared in whatever haze of drink and drug it was under. Don’t think about it because that hurt more than anything else!

Love was infinitely worse than anything! Because Selena knew what to do with anger. She knew how to survive hatred. She knew how to carry blame.

Those things made sense. Those things were deserved.

But love? After all this?

No.

That wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Deanna still believed, just like it wasn't fair that Deanna still remembered the woman Selena used to be. Because Selena barely remembered her anymore!

The Snow Queen.
The Face of SCW.
The woman who stood for integrity.
The woman who gave speeches about accountability.
The woman who fought villains for SCW.
The woman who preached second chances.
The woman who believed people could become better...

“What a joke...” her voice rasped in the darkness, a humourless smile touching her lips. She had become everything she hated long ago. No, worse than everything she hated.

Syren at least knew who she was.
Grant embraced what he was.
Delatasso never pretended otherwise.

Every villain she'd ever fought had one advantage over her... They had been honest.

She hadn't.

She had wrapped herself in ideals. In morality. In virtue.

And then when the moment came... When she was scared and desperate? When she couldn't handle losing? When she couldn't handle being forgotten?

She had cheated.
She had lied.
She had forged Deanna's name.
She had stolen.

Not because she was forced. Not because she was manipulated. Not because she had no choice...

Because I wanted to...

Because somewhere deep down, under all the speeches and principles and promises... She had wanted it. The World Title. The power. The respect... Everything!

The realization still made her sick, causing her to lean forward, elbows on her knees. The darkness remained absolute. Good. she thought. She deserved the darkness. Because if Deanna could see me now...

She didn’t have to see them in the dark to know they were there...

The bottles.
The pills.
The shaking hands.
The hollow eyes.
The pathetic wretch hiding underground.

She wouldn't be saying those things if she saw Selena as she truly was now. She couldn't. Nobody would. Not if they saw the truth.

A sudden image flashed through her thoughts.

White dress.
A mane of red hair with a veil behind it
Emerald eyes.
Hope.
Love.

Selena inhaled sharply. Why was she thinking of that now?! The memory hit like a physical blow.

The wedding.
The promises.
The future.
Everything they had built together.
Everything she had shattered.

More tears slipped free, causing the Snow Queen to lower her head. The cave remained silent except for the sound of her breathing, the redhead long gone from this place – a place not meant for someone as good as Deanna. And somewhere deep inside Selena, another thought emerged. One she had been desperately trying not to think.

Deanna was entering the royale...

Forty competitors. Selena knew exactly what that meant. She knew who was in it. She knew what those matches became: The desperation. The chaos. The violence.

And Deanna -  Sweet. Stubborn. Terrifyingly courageous Deanna - was walking into that alone. Because of her.

Again...

Everything kept coming back to that! Because of her. Because she had broken. Because she had run. Because she had hidden. Now Deanna was trying to carry everything.

The same thing Selena had spent years doing. The same thing that had destroyed her! The same thing that was going to destroy Amelia!

A bitter laugh escaped. The irony was almost impressive.

The woman who spent years warning everyone not to become her had somehow managed to convince Deanna to do exactly that.

Perfect! Absolutely perfect. She wiped angrily at her face. “Conceal...” her voice burned. “Don’t...feel! Don’t....don’t feel...”

You don't have to believe in yourself.
But I still do.

The tears came harder. Damn her! Damn Deanna. Damn every stupid, impossible, beautiful thing about her!

Because Selena wanted to believe it. That was the worst part! She wanted desperately to believe them.

And that terrified her. Because hope was dangerous. Hope got people hurt. Hope convinced people to keep trying. Hope convinced people to stand back up. Hope convinced people they could still be saved.

And Selena wasn't sure she deserved that anymore. Maybe she never had...

...

Minutes passed. Or was it hours? The mine didn't care and neither did she. She had spent days down here without even realizing it. Time worked differently underground. Eventually the silence returned completely.

Selena remained where she was. Alone. For a long time she simply stared into the darkness.

But then, slowly, she reached beside her, not entirely sure what was guiding her hand. Her fingers found cold metal - the old lamp.

She hesitated for only a moment, hand resting against the switch because the darkness had become comfortable. Safe.

The moment the light came on, reality would come with it: The bottles, the pills, the mess... Herself.

A laugh escaped. As if she didn't already know what she'd become.

Finally she clicked the switch and light exploded into existence. Enough to reveal everything. The empty whisky bottle, the second bottle beside it, the orange prescription bottle – NX – with a few pills remaining, the blanket, the sleeping bag, the food wrappers... The cave she'd convinced herself was a home.

The prison she'd called sanctuary.

And there, reflected faintly in the glass of the bottle once again... Her.

Selena stared at the reflection. For a moment she genuinely thought she saw Deanna instead. Thought she saw the redhead standing there: Watching and waiting. The image lingered just long enough to make her heart jump.

Then it vanished.

Just another trick. she thought.

Her gaze settled on the phone lying nearby. The same phone carrying weeks of missed calls, missed messages - missed everything.

She stared at it for a minute. Then another. The mine remained silent - just like it always had.

Finally Selena reached forward, her hand shaking, whether from fear or something else, she couldn't tell.

The phone unlocked and the screen illuminated her face. She swallowed... Then opened the camera. Her thumb hovered over the screen...

Over the red button.
Over possibility.
Over consequences.
Over hope.

For a long moment she couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Then, very slowly...

Selena Frost pressed record.
_______________________________________________________________

The Royal Letter

The video jolts and moves a little, sloppily moving until it is placed in front of a ragged, haggard face with platinum-blonde hair. Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are hollow and her skin is pale. Far from the elegant, poised ‘Snow Queen’ she once was, this is a Selena Frost that looks... so much less.

Hey... old man... she whispers, sniffling a little as she runs a hand through her matted mess of hair. Bet I look a sight, don’t I? she offers a sad smile.

I don't actually know if I'm sending this. A weak laugh follows. I guess that's not true. Her eyes lower. If you're watching it then obviously I did.

She takes a moment to shake her head.
You were right... she whispers, almost in a cry. You were right all along and I didn’t listen. You said SCW was changing and I didn’t listen. You said I needed to change with it or bad things would happen and I didn’t listen.

I thought... she sighs. It doesn’t matter what I thought, does it? Doesn’t matter what my intentions were or what I tried to do or wanted to do... I know you’ve been watching... it’s still your creation after all...

She lets a cry escape her. I can’t... I can’t fix this, O.... she whispers, her voice hoarse. I can’t go back like Deanna wants me too. I can’t go back to SCW and undo what I did. This isn’t something that can just be ‘fixed’. I... I ruined so many people’s lives. I held back careers. I destroyed dreams... all because...

All because I didn’t think anyone could help SCW but me...

The tears flow freely in the barely illuminated cave and Selena lets them fall. Why didn’t I listen to you? Why didn’t I listen to Deanna? Or anyone else that tried to help me? Even... Even Xander...

All I wanted was to keep SCW wonderful. Keep it about what it stood for and I... I don’t know when it happened but I... she sighs again, angrily rubbing at her eyes with her free hand.

...I stopped caring about the people inside it. The words leave her mouth and immediately seem to horrify her. She freezes and her eyes squeeze shut. A sound escapes her throat somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Gods... She lowers her head. I think that's the truth, isn't it? Her voice is barely audible. Not all at once. Not intentionally. Not because I wanted to hurt anyone... A shaky breath escapes her. But somewhere along the way I stopped seeing people and started seeing responsibilities. Problems. Pieces on a board.

Another tear falls.

This person could carry a division. That person could elevate a championship. This person could be trusted. This person couldn't. This person needed protecting. This person needed saving...

Her lips tremble.

And eventually I convinced myself that because I was trying to help... because my intentions were good... because I loved SCW... that somehow made it all okay... Even if I slowly lost piece after piece until... until I believed I was the only player left on the board that could win the game...

She lets out a bitter laugh. You know what the funny part is? Her eyes finally lift toward the camera. I used to hate when people said that.

A weak smile appears. "My intentions were good." She shakes her head. I used to tell them intentions didn't matter. Results mattered. Consequences mattered. Accountability mattered. For everyone that kept calling my goals and dreams for SCW ‘fake’ and ‘false’ and ‘all a lie hiding evil’... I let my actions prove them wrong... until they didn’t...

The smile vanishes. And when that happened? When that the moment became me... suddenly I wanted everyone to understand my reasons. She pauses, chuckling dryly. Funny how that works.

The cave falls silent again. Eventually, Selena wipes at her face again.

Deanna came here tonight. The sentence emerges quietly - almost reverently. I didn't see her. Not really. I heard her before she got close and I just... stayed where I was in the dark. Her voice cracks. Like a coward.

She stares at the floor. Ashamed of me yet, boss? You wouldn’t be the first. she sniffles a little, resting her head against the stone wall.

She stood maybe a few hundred feet away from me and I couldn't move. Another bitter laugh escapes her. The woman who spent years running toward every fight she could find, fighting every monster and stable she could... couldn't walk a few hundred feet.

She presses a hand against her eyes. And then she started talking.

Silence.

At first I thought she was talking to SCW. Then I thought she was talking to herself for a promo. Then I realized she was talking to me... Her shoulders shake. Do you know what she offered me?

The question isn't really directed at O. – and both she and the viewer know that. It's directed at reality itself.

She offered me Rise to Greatness.

Disbelief - raw and genuine – fill Selena’s voice.

If she wins the royale... if she survives thirty-nine competitors... if she somehow accomplishes something I’ve never managed to do... she wants to hand it over to me.

A tear slips down her cheek. To me. Her voice grows smaller. After everything.

She shakes her head. I don't understand her anymore.

A pause fills the cave, broken only by a whisper. Maybe I never did.

The tears continue running down Selena’s face. I spent years teaching people that they were worth fighting for. A weak laugh breaks free. And now she's using my own words against me.

The worst part? She swallows hard. For a second... just a second... I wanted to believe her.

The confession hangs in the air.

I wanted to believe I could walk out of this cave and somehow make things right. Her eyes close. But that's not how this works, is it?

Selena shakes her head. Some things don't get fixed. Her voice becomes hollow. Some things just break.

Another silence settles - longer this time. When Selena speaks again, she sounds exhausted.

I keep trying to figure out when it happened.

Her gaze drifts toward the darkness beyond the camera.

Was it after that Trios cash-in by Kimberly? My loss to Kandis? Was it after everyone started calling me the ‘Face of SCW’? Was it after they started hating me?

She laughs quietly.

Maybe I’ll never know the answer. She slowly shakes her head. Maybe you knew and were trying to warn me about it before it was too late...

For the first time since the recording began, she looks directly into the lens. Not through it - into it.

As though the old man is sitting right in front of her – smiling that ‘all-knowing’ smile he always had.

Tell me something. The words are fragile. When you left... did you know this would happen?

She pauses.

Did you look at me and see this coming? Her expression tightens.Because if you did... She swallows. I wish you had been louder.

The sentence breaks - not angry - Heartbroken.

I wish I had listened... she repeats with a quiet sob. But eventually, the cave grows quiet again. Only the distant hum of the lamp remains.

Selena lowers her eyes. Then, almost too softly to hear-

I'm scared, O.. she gazes back up. Not of SCW. Not of the fans. Not of what people will say. a trembling breath leaves her. I'm scared she still believes in me.

Tears well up again within the young woman.

Because if Deanna's wrong... then she's going to get hurt chasing someone that doesn't exist anymore. Her voice cracks completely. And if she's right...

A long silence - the longest of the recording.

When Selena finally speaks again, she barely manages the words. ...then I don't know who I've become.

She gazes at the camera for a moment longer before sighing. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m sorry for wrecking your company. I’m sorry I let you and everyone else down. I’m sorry for... for...

She bites her lower lip, letting a few more tears fall before shrugging her shoulders. I’m sorry for all of it, O..

More than you can ever know...

It is all she manages to say before she reaches forward and ends the recording, as sudden and swift as it had begun.

[Jay Gold]

These were held for a reason, but big hints have been dropped, so may as well let the extra legs out of the bag.

The "Jay 1" Mystery... A R ...




1 - Erected From The Creek

2 - Who I Am