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Supercard Roleplays / Re: BEA BARNHART v HARPER MASON v AMELIA REYNOLDS - LADDER MATCH
« Last post by Andrew on Today at 08:10:04 AM »
BEA BARNHART PROMO FOR TRIPLE THREAT LADDER MATCH FOR NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE BOMBSHELL ROULETTE CHAMPIONSHIP FOR BLAZE OF GLORY XV

The scene opens at a Burger King restaurant located in Fort Worth, Texas, and we see Bea Barnhart, and her husband Bill, enjoying the food at this location. Unfortunately their English Bulldog, Iris, is not with them at the Burger King Restaurant since they don’t allow pets in their restaurant unless they are certified Service Dogs. When the assigned camera person lets Bea and Bill Barnhart know that they have their camera broadcasting so Bea can comment on her upcoming match at Blaze of Glory XV, against Harper Mason and Amelia Reynolds, Bea launched into comments concerning her upcoming match.

Bea:  The time in history has come where I, Bea Barnhart, obtains the Roulette Championship. Yes, I know, my current match is to obtain the Number One Contender position for the Bombshell Roulette Championship. The thought of me taking on the Bombshell Roulette Champion and de-throning them has the other wrestlers running scared. You can throw all your nonsense into the air and hope when it falls to the ground someone might give a damn what you think about me but that is a problem you created that you have to deal with. I will earn the number one contender for the Bombshell Roulette Championship at this event then move on to challenge for the Bombshell Roulette Championship down the way. Anything you want to add to my comments Bill?

Bill:  Not at this time Bea. You focus on your upcoming match while I focus on my food.

Both Bea and Bill laugh at Bill’s comment then Bea returns to commenting on her upcoming Triple Threat Ladder Match for the Number One Contender for the Bombshell Roulette Championship.

Bea:  First item is that I should have obtained the Bombshell Roulette Championship a long time ago. I was successfully defeating all those who were also trying to get a shot at the Bombshell Roulette Championship. I was defeating everyone I faced. There was one of the Bombshells who thought she was the best wrestler in the world and in six Hardcore Rules matches I defeated her six times. That should have sent me to the top of the rankings for the Bombshell Roulette Championship but that did not happen. It was decided that the challenger for the Bombshell Roulette Championship would be the wrestler I defeated six times and she stumbled through her match and somehow ended up obtaining the Bombshell Roulette Championship. Then she lost the Bombshell Roulette Championship two weeks later. She re-wrote the definition of the word FAILURE and PATHETIC. I am here to tell you that what happened to that wrestler I mentioned will NOT happen to me. I am going to win this match against Harper Mason and Amelia Reynolds then I will move on to defeat who ever  happens to be the Bombshell Roulette Champion and I assure you I will retain possession of the Bombshell Roulette Championship for a very long time.

Bea pauses her comments and looks over at Bill to check on him and Bea is satisfied that Bill is enjoying the food.

Bea:  At the first look you take of the three wrestlers in my match, which is myself, Harper Mason, and Amelia Reynolds, you will come to the conclusion that we are so close in height and weight that there is no advantage for any of us in this match. Oh how you would be wrong…very very wrong…and here is why. I am five feet five inches and one hundred thirty pounds. Harper is five feet five inches and one hundred twenty-five pounds. Amelia is five feet four inches and one hundred twenty-five pounds. At first glance most of you low-income morons would come to the conclusion that none of us in this match has the advantage. WRONG!!! Since Harper and Amelia are typical low-income, slow to react, and basically clowns trying to be wrestlers then they are way below me in every aspect. I mean, come on, I am a better wrestler than both of them could ever be. Also I carry a 160 I.Q. score which places me in the top category of GENIUS level people. While Amelia and Harper want to spend most of their ring time teasing the male fans by acting sexy and revealing I am inside the wrestling ring to prove I am the better wrestler and I do not need to act like a slut to get noticed by the fans.

Bea looks into the camera and she snarls and growls into the camera and her snarling and growling causes Iris the Bulldog to jump to her feet and she starts snarling and growling also. Bea and Bill look over at Iris and they are so amused with her actions that they cannot help but laugh at Iris. Iris then takes a stern look at Daddy Bill and Mommy Bea before she flops on the floor to relax and take a nap.

Bea:  Harper. . .Amelia. . .let me lay everything out in the open so that there is no confusion on your part. . .that there are no hard feelings when I defeat both of you. . .so that you two will not run to Management to make claims that I cheated you out of the Bombshell Roulette Championship. If you two were to whine and complain to Management and make claims that I cheated you in our match in order for me to win the shot at the Bombshell Roulette Championship then all you would be doing is proving to the world that you two are morons and idiots. You cannot cheat someone out of a match that is classified as Hardcore Rules with the specific way to win is to climb up a ladder and gain possession of the briefcase that contains a contract for a shot at the Sin City Wrestling Bombshell Roulette Championship. Then again. . .I cannot expect you two to go public and prove to everyone that you are too stupid to know how this match is going to work.

<is>Bea glances over at Bill and Bill smiles and tells Bea to continue with her comments as he is withholding his comments for now.

Bea:  I will present my closing comments now. A lot of the wrestlers in Sin City Wrestling like to get in front of the camera and run their mouths until you want to whack them in the head with a baseball bat. And that, my friends, is what I feel like doing to Harper and Amelia but I have to wait until we get in the ring and our Triple Threat Ladder Match begins. At that time all hell breaks loose with me perpetrating 90 percent of the damage on you two. I will climb the latter and take possession of the Contract for a shot at the Bombshell Roulette Championship. If you don’t believe me now. . .for darn sure you will believe me when I walk away as the winner. Good luck girls…you are damn sure going to need all the luck you can find to defeat me.

Bea informs the camera person that she is done with her comments and the camera person calls into the Network to let them know that they are cutting their camera feed then the camera person cuts their camera feed and our screen goes dark.

2
Supercard Roleplays / First RP Deadline Has Passed
« Last post by Christian Underwood on March 01, 2026, 05:18:40 AM »
All roleplays posted after this message will count towards the second RP Deadline Period.
3
Supercard Roleplays / Chapter 11: Every Little Bit Helps
« Last post by Frankie Holliday on February 28, 2026, 11:56:07 PM »
I have to tell you, I've been waiting for this.

I have been giddy with anticipation. I have a new journey to go on and it starts at High Stakes.
But I'm no stranger to have to adjust course.

Because somehow or another, I always end up at my intended destination.

It will be fun to see the Captain again.

My eyes are closed.
My lips are wet with anticipation.
My fingers are sticky.
My body is ready.

Let's fucking go.

As the days went on, we became more and more apathetic to the night time stalkings, bangings at the door and general chaos of the situation. I found myself tuning it out most of the time. It was just commonplace that Mal was going to have an episode. It really was more of a shock when he didn’t. And then the next day I’d hear more stories about Levi’s family and his upbringing.  Mal was a veteran from the 2nd Iraq war. Or the first, technically. And he clearly saw some shit.

I really got invested in his war stories and how war crimes he committed pretty much because he wanted to and because he knew he wasn’t going to get into trouble. Of course, I can’t actually verify any of these things since I was a toddler when all this was going down. But Mal said he would be part of something he called “free-fire zones” where they would set up and then shoot at anybody who entered the area, no matter who they were.

Because as he put it… “They didn’t have a fucking uniform.”

Most of the time I busied myself with his books. He had books about history which I wasn’t much of a fan of, but they helped pass the time. What really sparked my interest was the Anarchist’s Cookbook which detailed how to make shit like DMT and barbiturates. It detailed how to set up proper surveillance and then how to literally make bombs.

Levi saw me reading it one day and got curious.

“You know how old some of that stuff is?”

“Hmmm?” I looked up from the book

“I said, do you know how old some of that stuff is? That’s from like Vietnam."

“I don’t think the ingredients to make anything change. They don’t change the basic recipe for cakes, Levi. You still need flour and baking soda and eggs.”

“Anything good in there?”

I looked up at him and smirked.

“You wanna make tear gas?”

Mal’s backyard was wide open. There was nothing but forest for miles around. So, we had to get some kind of shelter. But then, I realized that we didn’t need that. Mal owned the fucking book in the first place. And he was extremely anti-government. He lived on land in the middle of fucking nowhere and during many of our conversations he would repeat his staunch stances on everything.

It was like Thanksgiving with that one uncle who’s really really into politics and starts a fight and stuff.

So finally, during the day, I asked.

“Hey Mal, can we use your basement?”

Issac was not thrilled about this idea, and really, neither was Levi, but the moment Mal saw that I was interested and had the book in my hand. He was all for it.

“Oh, I started doing some of that shit at one point or another.”

Now I was intrigued. Was Mal like a guy who sent letter bombs? Trying to mess up Government workers and stuff? I needed to know. This was too good to pass up.

“We’re trying to make the tear gas.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Mal was very excited by this. “A lot of the stuff you need is already in the basement, but it’s probably old. I haven’t touched it in many years.”

“Thanks, we’ll check it out.”

Levi and I explored the basement, and pretty much confirmed the chemicals were most likely no good. Glycerin and Sodium Bisulfate would be easy enough to replace, and some of the actual equipment was showing signs of rust. I doubt Mal actually tried to make anything with them for a long time. So they’d probably have to be replaced as well.

Ordering chemicals might seem like it’s really sketchy or suspicious, but shit, you can order chemicals in bulk if you want to. Sodium Bisulfate you can order from fucking Wal-Mart or any pool supply store. Glycerin you can get at any drug store. We would need to buy in bulk, so… we simply used a local libraries computer to order the stuff and have it sent to Mal’s house. Ordering from two different places also helps.

The only thing missing were gas masks. The one thing you would think Mal would actually have. He had ring stands, alcohol lamps, glass and rubber tubing, everything we needed, just not gas masks.

But, luckily, the cookbook told us where to find them.

Those wonderful Army-Navy surplus stores. Only $40 each. I bought three since Mal was very much into the experiment. Once we got that, Mal was really, really excited. He actually bought a mini-shelter for us to use. Now we had a place to test it.

“You sure you know what you’re doing, babe?” Levi asked.

“It’s just chemistry. I took it in high school. It can’t be that hard.”

Following the instructions of the cookbook, we got the mixtures as close as possible. The warning was to don’t make too much at one time, so for about a week, we would make the maximum amount.

 And then it was finally time to test it.

We went to the shelter and released most of the glass containers we had. And then, we went in, gas masks on. And then we took them off.

And for a few seconds, seemingly nothing happened. My eyes itched and the air smelled weird, but it wasn’t the end of the world…
Until that first inhale. All of sudden, we were coughing. My eyes were burning and mucus was coming from my face. Not just my nose, but holy shit my face. It burned.

We ran out, coughing, gagging, spitting and rubbing our faces. Luckingly Mal had the hose and the water made it a little better. And after 15 minutes, we were pretty much okay.

“I think the tear gas was successful.” I said after we had all cleaned up.”

“Gonna have to air out that shelter though. I mean, we really just made a gas chamber.” Levi added.

We really had, but we weren’t planning to use it.

Yet.

But it was a good thing for us to know how to make it.


But it couldn’t be all fun and games. While we stayed there, we had to come up with some way to make money. And to do that, I kinda needed to have my G.E.D. I wasn’t going to get far for long without one. So, I began going to the library and studying and taking multiple practice G.E.D. tests.

It’s amazing how much you forget in a short amount of time.

For really the first time when it came to school work, I had forgotten a lot of the math portions. I never liked math anyway, but like, basic ass algebra was kicking my ass for a little bit. But eventually, being able to read up and actually practice helped. Soon enough I was acing the practice tests. I would be ready. All of it was coming back to me now. I always loved science so that was never an issue. English was always whatever, I was never going to write a fucking paper in feminist lens, and I liked history enough. So this became normal again after 4 practice tests.

Levi though thought of something different.

Again, there was a shit-ton of land where Mal lived. So… why not use it. We were in a big open field about a mile away from the house. Levi was looking at it and I was kind of confused as to what we actually wanted to do with it.

“Well, what do we do?’

“Farm it.” Levi said with a smirk.

“Farm it?” I asked. I never pictured Levi as a farmer, but hey, the thought of him shirtless and bailing hay crossed my mind and that was hot. But that was not what Levi meant.

“Yeah, let’s grow some weed. We can sell it.”

“You want to run a weed farm? Levi… that’s a terrible idea. There’s actually like… companies who grow weed on highly sophisticated farms. We have the two of us and nothing. We don’t have the equipment or means to do that.”

“Who says we need them?” Levi said with a shrug. “We grow it, we sell it.” Just to people who want to buy some weed.”

“Levi, the shit is basically legal, and probably better from the fucking neighborhood weed man!”

Levi was kind of crushed that I shot this down, but the mere idea would have been cool in like the early ‘90’s or even the early 2000’s or whatever, but not 2020. Things were different. I explained this to him, but he just didn’t want to give up on it. But I wore him down enough to where he finally conceded. We would have to find some other way.

Isaac of course wanted nothing to do with our experiments and really disapproved when we started reading the cookbook to make explosives. We really only blew up some land that Mal owned, but he was certain someone was going to complain. We just thought it was harmless fun. The only thing we managed to hurt were a few birds and what looked like a coyote but it was blown to bits so… I dunno.

So, we were kind of running out of ideas. Working normally wasn’t going to really work. The fact was, we were criminals. Maybe nobody knew that. But we did and the whole idea of working a 9-5 job somewhere wasn’t really appealing.

“You know, I stole some coke from that one guy’s house. We could sell that.”

“Uh, yeah… I guess. That’s at least going to get us some money.”

It wasn’t a lot of coke, but hey, somebody would buy it and somebody would give us some money for it. Also having a brick of cocaine to sell got it out of our hands and that way, nobody could put the finger on us.

We went out late at night, and it was a weekend. There were many people out, and we had to look like the two biggest idiots. We were just standing around, looking fucking suspicious as all hell offering people cocaine for whatever they wanted to give us. For hours we stood out there, walking back and forth, pacing, checking our phones. And once in a while, someone would roll up and wonder what we were doing, and then… maybe buy.

We were not professionals in the slightest.

“How come this always looks so cool in the movies?” I asked, growing impatient. We were pretty much alone and it was nearly 3am.

“What? It doesn’t.” Levi answered.

Finally a man in a brown jacket walked up to us. He certainly didn’t look any different from any of the other people we tried to sell to, wouldn’t be able to pick his face out of a crowd or anything. But something was just off. He looked… too clean. He certainly wasn’t homeless looking, or perhaps he cleaned up pretty well. But I was still kind of on edge from it.

“What ‘cha got?” The man asked, looking around, fidgeting nervously.

“What do you need?” Levi

“I need some… uh… sugar.” The man said, the verbal wink and nod thrown out there.

“Yeah? Well let’s take a look at what we got here.”

The man followed Levi to the car, where Levi opened the trunk, just like in a movie. We had actually taken the cocaine out of the brick form and put it in smaller baggies. But… still not the most professional. They were in an actual sugar bag so as to not arouse too much suspicion. Levi let him have a baggie and a sample of its contents.

The man seemed to enjoy, smacking his lips as he licked the powder off his fingers.

“Damn, that’s good shit. How much?”

“Well, I tell you what, right now, it’s $100 for one of these baggies.”

“Shit, alright.”

The man hurriedly opened his wallet and handed Levi a crisp Ben Franklin. Levi looked it at and nodded.

“Maybe you can come back next week?”

“Maybe.”

And then… we left. I was sort of expecting that to be a cop or something. But it wasn’t. We drove away having sold 10 baggies, making a smooth thousand bucks.

“Maybe there’s something to this.” I said, kind of relieved, but my adrenaline was wearing off from the sales.

“Every little bit helps.” He said.

Yeah. Every little bit helps.



Well hey there Captain!

Fancy seeing you here again. Small world and all that, you know?

How does it feel, Captain?

Do you feel like some kind of conquering hero? Like you’ve taken your rightful place back at the top? I mean, you must be very proud. I am proud of you, in fact. We are right back where we fucking started. I’m sure for you, that must feel great. You did it. You worked hard, fought your back up and won the Bombshell’s championship yet again. Hooray for you, my dear Captain. Back where you belong.

I just have… one little question.

What the fuck took you so long?

What happened? I took that title from you in…. September of last year or something. Why did it take you six months to get the title back? I don’t get it. You’re supposed to be the best. Shouldn’t you have mowed through the competition? Shouldn’t you have been first in line after I lost? What happened?

Oh, wait, wait I get it. This is the part where you tell me you took a step back and you were just observing, right? Waiting for the perfect time to strike, right? Biding you time, and making the most impact. Or some horseshit resembling that right?

We’ve been intimate, Captain. You might be able to fool all the others, but you can’t fool me.

You can try and tell people that you were “ready to move on” and “let someone else have the spotlight.” But you and I both know better. You were right there, at the bottom, and you were in the very tournament that Crystal won. That was you. You were facing Victoria Lyons and…

You fucking lost.
In the 1st round.

You were out of the picture, and that… that right there is when you could say that. That’s when you could have said “Yup, taking a vacation.” But you didn’t. You stuck around. You had every opportunity to leave and move on and do everything you said you were going to do, but you didn’t. Not because you “needed to” stick around, but because you know what defines you.

That championship belt.

You need it, you need it for validation. You need it because it makes you feel secure. It defines you as a person. Without the title belt, you are just another face in the crowd. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Had you left, things would have continued and you would have been long since forgotten about. So, you need this place. You need that title belt. And when you got your chance you poured your heart out.

 Because you wanted this moment to try and make yourself out like you’re John fucking Wick. You’re feeling like you're back now, right?

Where were you when I was champion, Captain? Why did you not come after me?

Oh, that’s right…. Because you knew better.

I know that you knew better because you didn’t think I was paying attention and you just happened to mention my name like you were going to not get a rebuttal. And then I mentioned your name and you promptly shut the fuck up. Only to then walk it back.

Now all I’m hearing is excuses.

“I allowed Frankie Holiday to have a grace period to prove herself.”
“They’re protecting Frankie from me!”
“I wanted to leave, but I’m going to save the division because it’s the worst it’s ever been.”
“I’ve got to come back to put this division where it used to be!”

No. No you fucking don’t. Don’t you even try to slip this weak shit past me. You called me a “prodigy” in the same breath as saying I wasn’t legitimate. You don’t get to play that game. You really don’t.

You came back, and scratched and clawed your way to the top again for two big reasons.

The first, is because the company needs you there. Not because you’re special, or a big name, or some kind of a franchise player. No, it’s because you play the game.

You are their pawn.

You are the person they trust the most.
And they obviously want you to get rid of me. They want me as far away from the top of the division as possible.

Because I am the biggest threat to the status quo there is. And you are the ultimate status quo.

You see, when I lost the title, I was out of the way. I played by the same rules I set. I don’t just get automatic title shots or rematches. I put myself at the bottom. And then, I clawed my way back to the top.

Because as I’ve already told you, Captain:
I am inevitable.

But, because for some reason this company likes to think they are owed one because they hand out championship matches like fucking candy… that I was indebted to them.

I tweet the truth about Crystal using the title to prop up her family, like I said she would from the fucking jump, and they threaten to…take a title shot I earned away from me.

“Well I can just take this title shot I have scheduled for you away.”
“Cool, I’ll earn another one.”
“Well, you earned this one.”

So if I earned it, taking it away seems like a shitty thing to do. Don’t you agree, Captain?

So now, they’re very happy you’ve got the title belt back. Because they are banking on you.

They need things to be controllable. Stale. Boring. That’s why you and Crystal were in the middle of the title picture. Things that are familiar and comfortable. Think about it. How the fuck do you figure Seleana was in the title picture as this point? They want safe. They want familiarity. Crystal did the exact same story arc she’s been doing for nearly 20 years. And that’s why you’re here as well. Same story. Kayla Richards: big scary woman grrr! And then by proxy, you get to sling the title on your shoulder and proclaim you’ve saved the division again, and you’re back where you belong and yada yada yada.

At least, now, right?

I mean, you got the belt back and everything. Old lady Mercedes was nice enough to give it back to you. Do you feel like a champion now? Is everything all perfect for you? Do you feel safe? Do you feel in charge of things now? At face value, you might. And maybe you are trying to convince yourself of everything being okay.

But we both know that’s just not true.

There’s something different isn’t there?

Well, there is, but even they’re trying to hide it and help you out.

I’m fucking insulted that whomever is writing up the previews to these matches on the SCW website that sit there and write that I am your… “most infamous stumble”

Stumble.

FUCKING STUMBLE?

I lit you on fire.
I took your title.
I BEAT you.

No excuses, no questions. It fucking happened.

No, Kayla, you did not stumble. I knocked your ass off the god-damn mountain and you know it.

And both you, and the SCW brass got very nervous and scared when they saw what I was trying to do. So, rather than accept it, and because you had already failed…

They sent Crystal.

Just understand Captain, you are replaceable. With Crystal Whateverherlastnameisthisweek. Just let that sink in.

A bigger name. A bigger star. And you just can’t stand that. That’s what really drives you up a wall. That you don’t get looked at like that. This is why you keep mentioning people like you do. You keep bringing up names from the past like “I’m better than them, love me! Pay attention to me!”

But at the end of the day, no matter how hard you try, or how many titles you win… you’re just a stooge for a company that loves to make you feel important because you play the game. It’s not because you are special. It’s because you are who you are.

How many times do we have to have this talk, Captain? You’re boring. You’re white bread. You are Kayla Richards: good wrestler and that’s it. You’re a charisma vacuum that even old lady Mercedes didn’t even want to play a game with. She took the belt. And you pouted and said “give it back” and she did. Like, you took all the fun out of it. 

That’s who you are. We need to just give you a belt, because that’s what makes you happy.

Oh my god.
Oh my god, wait.

That’s fucking perfect.

You know what we should do? We should make you your own title! Yes! The “Kayla Richards memorial” title or something. Or the “Kayla Richards super mega bad ass” title. Then you can be a champion forever! We can solve all these confidence and insecurity issues you have. We can give you a security title. You can carry it around, and every match you have can be a “title defense”

Come on, you gotta admit that would be so you. You can be the forever champion and everything. You can be the forever captain with your own belt and everything! Just think about it, that’s all I’m saying. You know it's a good idea!

I want to give you something for all the things I’ve taken away from you, Captain. I feel almost like a bully for coming onto your turf, coming into your domain, and then just beating you and taking away the things that make you feel special.

The aura.
The mystique.
The title.
The spot.

I took it all away and it’s one of the driving forces behind you not walking away.

That’s what’s different. There is no aura of Kayla Richards. I fucking took that away. I shattered it. I beat the unbeatable, unstoppable ruler of the division and I did it without massaging your fucking pussy like this company does. This match is just to ensure that you understand where you stand in this game.

I destroyed the myth that you are some kind of boogeyman of this division. All you did was maintain a drab, boring status quo. You Captain, much like Crystal, are a nostalgia act at this point. A woman trying to cling to one of the few things that makes you feel important. While you were in the background, nobody was clamoring for you to get back to the top. No one was thinking about you. The air was clean. The mood was brighter and there was a sense of freedom.

And that’s the second reason you stayed around.

You’re trying to get that old feeling back.

But, I’m sorry, there’s no putting the air back in the balloon. The levee already fucking broke. We can’t put the genie back in the bottle. It’s gone, and you will NEVER get that shit back. You can win whatever match you want, you scream it from the top of your lungs for here until the end of time. It will not change the fact:

 I beat you.

You never seemed to understand this point despite how many times I tried to tell you and explain it to you. The title belt was not what I was after. I liked carrying it and I understand its uses as a prop. It’s a tool. Much like I wouldn’t expect a teacher to show up to a school without their curriculum, the title has its uses.

But that was secondary to simply beating you.

I beat you at your best, Kayla. I did that and there’s nothing you can say or do about it.

I beat you, at your peak. And took everything away from the “best wrestler in the world.”

So… what’s that gonna make me when I beat you again?

Because I suppose I could then say… I’m better than you. Right? I am better than the “best wrestler in the world.” Not even a year into my career, and I can lay claim to being the better than the best. And I’ll be champion again, but again, we can get you your own belt.

But make no mistake, I saw what it did to you, Kayla. I saw the doubt. I saw the confidence drop. I saw it all because I was the one who did that to you. And now that I know that I’m that deep under your skin, I just wonder what this loss will do to you.

Will it drive you to retire?
Will you break down and cry?
Will you hang your head in shame for the rest of time?

Holy shit…

I just realized that I no longer want to just beat you, Kayla. No no no no.

I want to break you.

I saw the crack after I beat you the first time. Now… now I want all the fucking walls to come down. I want to take everything from you, a second time and leave you with nothing. I want to take the very essence of what you are and destroy it. I want you to be a god damn shell of what you are today.

And the best part?

You know I can do it.

Oh, I can’t wait. I’m all giddy now. Just thinking about the scene of your mental breakdown afterward? Fuck that would be so good. Well shit. Now I have so many ideas! The possibilities are fucking endless, Captain! This is going to be historic!

We are going to have so much fun at Blaze Of Glory.

Trust me.
4
Supercard Roleplays / Re: CRYSTAL ZDUNICH v MERCEDES VARGAS - JAPANESE DEATH MATCH
« Last post by Crystal Zdunich on February 28, 2026, 11:54:17 PM »
Los Angeles, California
Zdunich Home

A few weeks had gone by since Crystal Zdunich had lost her World Bombshell Championship to Kayla Richards. The former World Champion just sat at home on her couch as she held a remote controller in her hand and she kept cycling through her match from a couple of weeks ago. She kept playing through the last moments of her match with Kayla as Richards locked her submission on her and Crystal clawed and fought her way to the ropes but to no avail. There it was on the screen in front of her. The referee checking her arm on three different occasions and her arm going limp for all three of them, Crystal quickly turned the television off but it wasn’t without her fifteen year old daughter Aurora walking into the living room with her pajamas on. The teenage Mexican girl sits down next to her mother as she gazes over into her eyes and overs a grin.

“Mommy, I just want you to know that I am so proud of you…”

Crystal slowly turns her attention over to the girl as she looks down into her joyful little eyes.

“Proud of me, why are you so proud. I honestly feel like a loser. I wasn’t able to beat Kayla and now she is walking around with the World Championship. On top of that I had the biggest chance to really set the tone of how things are going to be with Seleana and I, and I feel like I let both her and Zenna down in our trios match. I proved to be among the biggest fraud in all of SCW, and it won’t be that long until Mercedes exposes me and she takes me down in our Japanese Death Match…”

Crystal just sighs as she lets out a long deep breath and she tries her best to look away but Aurora quickly shakes her head as she continues to smile. She looks deeply into her mother’s eyes as she places a hand on her leg.

“I don’t see you as a fraud at all. I know you may not be the champion anymore but in my eyes you are the biggest winner in the entire world…”

Crystal rolls her eyes as she slowly gazes back into Aurora’s eyes.

“I am a winner?! In what way do you see me as a winner…”

The girl can only keep her huge smile going as she looks back at her mother.

“I know you didn’t leave with the title and that does suck but I find more important than that is the fact that you were able to bring our family back together. Mama Seleana has been happier since we all moved back in. Our family just wasn’t complete without you. Elijah is happier and this is how I feel that life should be. I know there are going to be bad days but I think the good far outweighs the bad. As long as we have each other we will be able to do anything…”

Aurora points at the television before glancing back at her mother.

“That also includes your wrestling career. So what if you lost the title, this should just give you even more motivation to go out to that ring and win the title back. If there is anybody in this company that possesses the ability to rise back to the top of the fray I know it’s you…”

Crystal raises her eyes in return as she lets just sighs in return.

“Do you really mean that?!”

Aurora smiles passionately.

“Of course I mean that!!!”

Before Aurora could say anything else that is when we the tall and slender Swedish Blonde Seleana walk into the room. Seleana looks down at her wife as she smiles at her.

“Yes, Aurora would not like Chickie. Christina when you put your mind to something you always have a way of getting what you want. You are a woman who works hard and are one of the toughest in the entire world. With your family supporting you there’s nothing to stop you from accomplishing all of your dreams…”

Just hearing her wife talk to her meant she truly was home. It had been a while since Crystal had heard a motivational speech from her wife, but the thick accent was enough to get Crystal to stand up and look at her wife in the eyes.

“You don’t think I am a failure?!”

Seleana quickly shakes her head as she looks back at Crystal.

“Why would I ever think that, Christina you might be a lot of things. I would use words such as passionate, determine, headstrong, and confident to define you… Failure is certainly not one of them. If you losing your title but making sure that your family is intact defines you as a failure than I would wish to be labeled as a failure as well. I know you are going to hold this lost over you for a lifetime but remember that the comeback story is always greater than your initial journey to get to where you wanted to be. You are by no means a failure or even a letdown for that matter…”

“You don’t understand, Kayla beat me in the middle of the ring. Everything that she said about me, I can’t help but maybe accept the fact that she was telling the truth. Perhaps I was making the title a mockery of what it was meant to be by having it be involved in our family feud. It was no longer about being the best but it was about…”

Seleana holds Crystal’s hand as she looks at her in the eyes.

“It was about trying to win me over and fight hard so we could have this…It was about proving that you aren’t that same woman that is addicted to drugs but a woman who is on the mend and is looking to do better for herself…I know I can tell you over and over again but at the end of the day the only one who needs to believe in any of this is you…What do you think my shining Star?! Was all of this worth it?!”

Seleana looks over at Aurora who is looking at them from the couch. She looks at all of the family photos on the wall and looks over in the direction of Elijah’s bedroom, before wrapping her arms around her wife’s neck and gazing down into her eyes.

“Was I worth fighting for?!”

Crystal thinks about it for a few moments as she takes a long deep breath. Her eyes never leave Seleana’s. She follows up by wrapping her arms around her waist in return as she begins to speak back to her.

“It was worth every single moment. Some things, the most important things are what are truly worth fighting for. Truth be told when I won the World Championship from Frankie I felt a certain emptiness about the entire ordeal. I felt like something was missing. Normally when I win a World Championship and I get to the top of the world you know as well as anyone that I would love to gloat about the entire ordeal, but this title win just felt different…”

Seleana raises her eyes in return.

“How different?!”

Crystal nods her head as she speaks some more.

“It just felt different. Even though I shattered the record and did what no person has ever done by winning a sixth title it just felt weird not being able to celebrate with you. On top of that as much as I enjoyed being a champion I just felt it was a tainted victory. I only won the title because of Mercedes and Zenna fighting at ringside. It was the distraction that gave me the win in the first place, and had there been no distractions I don’t even know if I would have even won the title. The reign was bad from the get go and if I could do things differently I definitely would have…”

Seleana just shakes her head as she smiles back at her wife.

“Like I said before, just let it go Christina, you aren’t in a position where you can undo the past, and you shouldn’t be at a place where you should want to hold onto it either. Instead why don’t we focus on the future and on what’s happening right in front of us. As it currently stands you have me which is what you didn’t have before. You also have the children and we just want to support you to the best of our abilities. I also want you to be at a place where you are focused to the task at hand. You will get your World Championship back and I have no doubt in my mind you will go on to win it for a seventh time…”

Seleana smirks.

“But as of right now your main concern should be what’s in front of you and that’s this big match with Mercedes Vargas. Mercedes has always been a snake from the beginning and if there is anybody to blame for what happened you should place the blame solely on her. She is the reason why we were at war with one another. She is the one who almost ruined our marriage and she did all of this because she wanted to be in the spotlight. She is a selfish individual and the moment that she wasn’t the focal point of your team is the moment that she was quick to stab you in the back so that she could be in the limelight. We have had our share of problems but we were able to work it out… Now you need to point all of your frustrations at her…”

Seleana begins to swear in Swedish but Christina nods her head as she looks at her wife.

“Listen, I hear you Seleana… She may have gotten the better of me in our match but come Blaze of Glory I will be prepared for her. I won’t let her be my downfall and I certainly won’t let her get the best of me again. Whatever happens I am going to come at her with everything I got. This long story between us will be finished one way or the other. Mark my words on that…”

Seleana just slowly nods her head.

“Of course it will be because I have reinforcements to help you get ready for your big match. I know you may not like it but I think it is in your best interest if you listen to my sister…”

“You really want me and Zenna to talk to one another, especially after the way she pretty much was against us getting back together…I doubt that…”

Before Crystal could finish her statement that was when the redhead walks into the room. Crystal’s sister in-law just walks over to Crystal and shakes her head at her.

“You doubt what exactly, that I wouldn’t be here to check on you… Listen Christina I know that the two of us don’t really get along with one another and there is still a piece of me that doesn’t truly know if you are good enough for my sister or not. One thing I do know is as your sponsor it’s my job to make sure you stay on the right track in all aspects of your life. I know that any slip might be a chance to relapse and lose all the progress that you made. So if I have to be here to make sure that you keep up on your training so be it… You ready to finally take this match seriously?!”

Crystal laughs as she glances back at Zenna.

‘Only if you are ready to get your ass kicked. Even though we had that tag team match with one another I believe we both got arrested in New Orleans for fighting one another. Why don’t we take this to a wrestling ring and get all of these issues out of our system…”

Zenna can only look back at Crystal with a nodding of the head as they are going to train with one another, and it’s on this image that we slowly fade out on.








It won’t be long until Blaze of Glory is upon us and honestly there are so many thoughts going through my head right now. First and foremost I believe I should address everybody that might be watching this right now. It was about a few weeks ago when I lost the World Bombshell Championship to Kayla Richards. To be honest I could sit here and make up all the excuses on why I lost but truth be told Kayla got the better of me. I wasn’t prepared to be in the ring with a woman such as her and she made sure to pick me a part and she ended up taking the World Championship from me.

I fought as hard as I could. I gave Kayla the fight of a lifetime and I poured everything out into the confines of that ring. I thought I was going to pull it out but once Kayla put on that Ghost Lock my body just gave out on me. Even though I didn’t quit and I fought to the very end, I just didn’t have it in me to win at the end of the night, and the better woman was able to get her hand raised.

Kayla you deserve to be the World Champion and I will give you, but before you continuously stand on your high horse and act like you are the best damn thing in the world. Even though you have that title which basically gives you the right to feel that way, I am going to make something very clear to you.

I will rise back up, the rose will indeed blossom, and by the end of all of this I will make my way back to you and I will take back what you took from me. That’s not a threat, but that’s a promise and I live to make sure that it will come to pass.

Now I could sit here and cry over the spilled milk that was losing my championship but to be honest even though I sulked over losing the belt, I feel like when I beat Frankie for that title I had emptiness from the very start. I would have been gloating and would have been feeling larger than life but I just felt incomplete. My title win was tainted and the only reason why I won the championship is because Mercedes and Zenna caused a distraction.

It’s not like I flat out beat the champion. I only won because I saw an opening and I made the most of a moment. I broke the record for winning the most World Championships ever in this company and it was built on a lie. A lie that wasn’t fought through will and determination, but something built on the concept of a lie.

For far too long people have called me a fraud and a fake, and I don’t want that to be the case anymore. If I am going to do something I want people to acknowledge me for how determined I am in that wrestling ring. I don’t want to get by skating by or being handed something but I want to earn it…

That is why I have issues with this entire ordeal and I am placing the blame solely on that of Mercedes Vargas. This story between Mercedes and I goes back to years well beyond that of SCW. Our journey starts back to a company named Divas Unleashed back in 2008 or so, and continues onward to a company named 3WL shortly after that.

Vargas and I have always been in the ring with one another. We have been enemies and we also stood tall as tag team champions together. Our careers have run parallel to one another and I wouldn’t even be in SCW if I didn’t follow her to this company. As much as we have constantly fought one another I always thought there was a certain level of respect that the two of us had shared for one another.

Last year I felt like I was down on my luck and I will admit that I was grateful that Mercedes was there for me. She wanted the best for me and she helped revitalize my career. I didn’t have much and I know that everybody saw me as the same old flake from the last few years.

Yet Vargas didn’t see that, instead she saw a woman in need and she was willing to take my by her side, or at least that is what I thought. I mean when I look at things now maybe she only saw me as an insurance policy to help her keep the Internet Championship.

However as I started to become more active I started to find my place in the ring again. I started to find my passion in that ring and I started to become consistent. I had shown shades of the old Crystal Hilton and I was well on my way to striving to get back to the top. As soon as the rush for the gold tournament was upon us that is when the script started to flip. I had positioned myself for a World Championship match and Mercedes had basically lost her Internet Championship and lost all of her relevancy.

Harper Mason tried to point it out to me that Mercedes would never let me have the spotlight. She would never be in a position where she would be able to share it but I didn’t listen to that. Mercedes was also in my ear and I let her negative influence cost me my marriage.

I thought that Seleana was overacting when she questioned if I was on drugs and I even got more upset when somebody questioned if I was sleeping around with Mercedes. Why couldn’t people just accept that I was happy to have a woman who I considered a best friend at my side?

Little did I know that everything that everybody was telling me would turn up to be truth, Mercedes was simply plotting for a chance to stab me in the back! When I won the World Championship that is when things started to change. Without the Internet Championship to her name Vargas just wasn’t relevant anymore. People started to talk about me. I was on top of the world and the focus was solely on me.

I thought that she was happy for me but deep down that wasn’t the case. She was biding her time and looking for the perfect opportunity to stab me in the back. She escalated things with my wife and I slowly started to see how things really were. I could see the writing on the wall but I tried my best to ignore it. At the last Super Card she tried to end my wife and I just couldn’t let Seleana go through any of that.

As much as Seleana and I might have been at odds and were separated from one another, it still doesn’t change the fact that Seleana is the mother of my children. She is my wife and is the best thing to have happened in my life. When Vargas was going to end her I made the save and that is when Vargas showed her true colors and she attacked me instead. She gave me a concussion and I was forced to sit on the sidelines for a few weeks.

Maybe it was foolish for me to come back after getting a concussion. Maybe it was even more foolish to step in the ring with Kayla but despite what people might think about me, I am not going to let Vargas tarnish my career. She tried to ruin my marriage, she tried to ruin my career, and it’s all because she was jealous of what I had around my waist?!

Vargas you are truly pathetic, and at Blaze of Glory I am going to end you. In your head you really thought you had the greatest idea didn’t you?! I thought you and I truly had something together. I thought we had a friendship and we would help elevate one another to new heights but that was never the case with you. The only thing you ever wanted to do was fuel your own ego so that you could be elevated. It’s a disgrace and honestly it didn’t even have to come down to this.

Last year was by far one of the greatest years that you have ever had in a very long time. I have watched you reinvent yourself and emerge as a dominant internet Champion. You are continuously showcasing that you have what it takes to stand up to the test of time. You are the oldest Bombshell on the roster but that has never stopped you. With time you are getting wiser and are still finding out ways to be the center of attention.

However you made one big mistake and that was when you decided to put your hands on me, but that’s nothing compared to the way you tried to deconstruct my wife, and I am going to make you pay for all of it. As you can see I didn’t hesitate to put my rematch clause on the line in this match because that doesn’t mean anything to me. I believe in my own abilities and know that I am GOING to be the champion again. I will FIND my way back to the food chain and I don’t need a cheap easy way to get there.

I am the real fucking deal and the old Crystal Hilton is back. I don’t have doubts in ability to get to where I want with my hard work ethic but I have a feeling that isn’t the case when it comes to you. Had you truly believed in yourself you wouldn’t have taken the easy way out just to get here. At Blaze of Glory we are going to fight one another in a Japanese Death Match and now I can do all I want to you and its well within the rules of the match.

I am going to maim you and I am going to make you out to be my personal Bitch. You could never replace me, and you could never be on my level. You had a run as an Internet Champion which is a good thing but I made it back to the top of the food chain again. I won an unprecedented sixth World Championship and I did so by beating the current Blast From The Past winner.

I beat the best that this company had to offer and if that wasn’t enough I won a tournament including the very best of SCW. I proved that I still had it. I know you might have felt happy when you were in control and our partnership showed you at the forefront of things but over time I changed that narrative.

A focused Crystal is definitely one that is not like none other. You just couldn’t take it anymore and you just had to get rid of me.

You haven’t accomplished as I have even though you constantly love to tell yourself stupid statistics that don’t mean a thing such as you have won this amount of matches, and you have done this and done that. Nobody gives a shit to be honest.

It’s like trying to compare Lebron James with that of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

Sure on paper everyone is going to try to ride Lebron like he is the greatest ever because he broke Kareem’s all-time scoring record and holding onto that like it makes him the most important person in the world, but LeBron is also known as a choke arts and not always winning in the finals and doing what’s needed when it really matters. He also played more seasons than Kareem so yeah of course he would have the scoring record.

Kareem on the other hand has six world championships, six MVPS, and in his twenty seasons of being a professional player he made it to 19 All Star games. That’s just being dominant when it matters.

I may not have been here as long as Vargas has but I made more of my opportunities and I know I am so much better than you. Come Blaze of Glory I am going to show you just how much better than you I am.

Time is ticking and nothing will stop me from proving why I am the best woman to have ever stepped foot in this company. You bring your best because I will put you on the shelf. Mark my words on that…





5
Supercard Roleplays / “New Generation Breaking Through!”
« Last post by Cassie Wolfe on February 28, 2026, 11:06:14 PM »
The time had finally come for Cassie’s Roulette Title Match against the champion Alicia Lukas at Blaze of Glory XV n d for Cass? This was literally Cassie’s first PPV Title Match in over a year as the last time the Aussie had challenged a champion on PPV was the year prior at Blaze of Glory XIV where Cassie was one of the five Bombshells challenging for the World Bombshell Championship in the Elimination Chamber Match! Can Cass finally win her first title in SCW?

Hero Academy, Las Vegas, Nevada
Monday the 23rd of February 2026, 11:00am

It sucks being the first.

Let me take you back a few tears: back in 2021 when I was eighteen and working my way through wrestling school pretty much everyone agreed on the same thing: that I was a protégé with great potential for the wresting business, problem was? At the time I was being trained by Matthew Kennedy at the PTA Gym and as Matthew was managing Krystal at the time? he was less interested in nurturing a top prospect and more interested in using me as a weapon against Krystal.

To make a long story short? The PTA Gyn is now Hero Academy, Matthew was driven to bankruptcy and aside from a mess in late 2023 that I have no interest in reliving hasn’t been seen since and once Team Hero took over? I became their top prospect, later graduating in the late summer of 2022 and well, the rest is history.

In my full rookie year I did win my first ever title, the MPW TV Championship which I held through the final months of 2023 before losing due to controversial manager bullshit and MPW closed its doors before I could get a return match.

And people wonder why I’ve got such a huge fucking chip on my shoulder!

Since then I’ve struggled to live up to the expectations laid at my feet when I graduated, joined several feds that didn’t work out, had a run on EWC’s Rampage brand that ultimately fizzled out and now I’m in SCW trying to set things right.

Go ahead and check my history in the promotion if you want an idea of how that’s been going for me so far but to keep things brief? I last challenged for a title on PPV at last year's Blaze of Glory when I was one of the five challengers for the World Bombshell Title, a few months later I would challenge or the title again, this time on a random Climax Control and challenging Frankie Holiday in what ended up being her first and last defence before she dropped it to Crystal Hilton at High Stakes, meanwhile Harper was chasing after the Bombshell Internet Championship like a woman possessed and no one batted an eye.

But the moment I complain about missing out on the biggest show of the year while hacks like Candy got booked because they are former champions and I’m not and suddenly I’m the problem and not the out of touch owner!

Yeah that chip on my shoulder is less a chip and more a boulder.

“Hey Cass, let go!” The trainee I was sparring against alerted me and I realized that, while I had been lost in my thought, I had held on to this Single Leg Boston Crab for way longer than me and Robyn (the trainee) agreed too and I let go, the rookie was about my height at 5ft 3 and was honestly pretty cute with long red hair.. “Seriously man, are you trying to hurt me?!”

”Sorry, I was lost in thought.” I apologized before helping her up, Robyn grave the leg I had targeted a shake to see how it felt and was relieved that, aside from the pain, no major damage had been done. ”You good getting out of the ring?”

“Yeah, I’m good, it’s not like I can’t put any weight on it or anything.” Robyn nodded before one of the trainers called for us to leave the ring so someone else could soar, I left the ring on one side and Robyn the other.

And Harper was waiting for me. ”That’s what? The fifth one you stretched out since we got here?” Harper asked as she folded her arms with a frown. ”We’re here to train for our matches at Blaze of Glory, not hurt the rookies going through training like we were a few years ago.”

”I know, I know!” I protested as I sat down on a work bench and Harper shook her head. ”But you try keeping a cool head when waiting your turn for a shot at a title takes so long that I honestly thought that I hadn’t challenged for a tile since last year’s Blaze of Glory!”

”When you challenged for the World Bombshell Title in the Elimination Chamber Match, I know.” Harper responded as she brushed some hair over her shoulder. ”And I’m not going to bring up the rest of 2025 as far as your concerned because I know that’ll only set you off more!”

”At least you’ve got that part right!” I responded as I shook my head and Harper grinned a bit. ”Of course if we both win our matches Young Justice will implode at Into the Void!”

”How about we worry about that when the time comes?” Harper suggested before we saw Robyn train with someone else. ”Up for a sparring match?”

”Sure.” I responded before we headed to the ring.

Josh’s Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Wednesday the 25th of February 2026, 14:00pm

It’s been a couple of days since the incident at Hero Academy and I’ve been trying to cool off, today? That’s taken me to Josh’s gym.

“I heard from Harper about what happened at Hero Academy Cass.” Josh commented as he watched me work on the treadmill and I stopped the machine to turn to him. “What’s going on?”

”I lost track of time and got lost in my memories and several rookies suffered for it.” I responded as I leaned forward on the side rail and Josh frowned. ”I let go of the hold as soon as I snapped back to reality.”

“Against five different rookies?” Josh asked as he folded his arms. “Only stopping when you faced a fellow graduate in Harper? You are better than this Cass……………”

”AM I?!” I snapped at him as I squared up to the much taller man. ”I’ve been touted as a protégé and future star since day one of my career and so far? All I’ve got to show for it is a title from a defunct promotion that I won four years ago! And unlike Harper? I didn’t get to keep my title because I lost it beforehand! I’m supposed to9 be a top prospect but every time I’ve gotten close to another title it’s been yanked right out of my fingers!”

Josh let out a deep breath as he considered what to say next. “I have three questions for you Cass and I want your honest answers, got it?” I nodded and Josh proceeded. “Who are you without the “Top Prospect” title?”

I blinked a couple of times before my answer finally came out. ”I’m Casandra “Cassie” Thompson, alias Cassie Wolfe, a wrestler born near Adelaide, Australia who’s lived in the US since she was sixteen.” I responded as I sat on a work bench. ”What else did you expect me to say?”

“Second question.” Josh moved on while ignoring my question and I shifted my weight. “If no one ever calls you “The Future” again, who are you?”

I blinked a few times before answering. ”I’m “The Rebel Princess” Cassie Wolfe, a young Australian woman who happens to be a hell of a wrestler.” I stated as I looked up at him. ”But I still don’t know………….”

“Last question.” Josh interrupted me again and I stopped in my tracks. “Are you angry at the system for seemingly letting you down? Or at the version of yourself who hasn’t broken through yet?”

I gave him a pointed look. ”That was two questions.” I corrected him as I leaned back. ”Not one.”

“I( meant it as a two parter.” Josh responded as he looked me over. “And your answer?”

”I don’t know, both I guess?” I responded with a defient shrug. ”I seem to be the kiss of death for every new fed I join and I still haven’t figured out what I’m doing wrong in SCW!”

“And yet you’re still in the company.” Josh pointed out as he folded his arms. “Why?”

”Because if I give up it means that my doubters will win!” I snapped and Josh nodded. ”Satisfied?”

“Very, because now we have something to work on.” Josh responded before I resumed my work out.

Josh’s gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Wednesday the 25th of March 2026, 16:00pm

*promo time*

Here we go.

”The future, it seems like everyone and their mothers is always eager to find a wrestler they can label the future when they are new to the business, for me? People were doing that shit when u was still training.” I stated as flipped some hair over my shoulder. ”And it has worked so fucking great for me over the past four years! Nor! Come Blaze of Glory XV though? I’ll be setting that right.

After all, it takes the future to erase the past, right Alicia?” I asked rhetorically as I paced around the ring. ”And come Blaze of Glory? The future of the Bombshell Roulette Division will be decided!”

This will be good.

”Deny it all you want Alicia but if I hadn’t blown out my knee when we faced off in that Disco Inferno Dance of Death Match in Ibiza you wouldn’t be champion right now! That’s not an opinion, that’s a damn fact!” I added as I started pacing around the ring. ”I mean really, our opposition was Bea Barnhart and Seleana Zdunich, it may as well have been a one on one match between us!

And yet here we are, four Supercards later with the very gold you took from Harper on the line! Poetic, ain’t it?”  I said before shaking my head. ”You may have one submission win over me Alicia but trust me, I don’t fall for the same trick twice.”

Nope!

”This isn’t just a title match for me Alicia, it’s about the New Generation Breaking Through and frankly? The old guard need to step aside, starting with you!” I added as I flipped some haor over my shoulder. ”I’ll give you credit for being a better “oldie suddenly became a champion” wrestler than either Mercedes Vargas or Crystal Zdunich but let’s be honest.

You can polish a dog turd all day and it’ll still stink and stain your hands!” I stated as I grinned at the camera. ”And at Blaze of Glory XV? The last of the oldie reigns will end with you!”

It’s that simple.

”Was I shocked when this match was announced? Absolutely, am I giving this my all? Again, absolutely, am I going to walk out the Bombshell Roulette Champion? Abso fucking lutely!” I added as a broad smile spread across my lips. ”You’re a legacy act of the Bombshell Division Alicia and it’s time you not only realized tit but started acting like a good legacy act.”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”In other words? Step aside and let the future take the spotlight! And right now? The future of the division lies with me and not you!” I added as I flipped some hair over my shoulders. ”Deal with it! To all my fans? In a world of fake queens and champions past their sell by date? Be yourselves and be a Rebel Princess! And Alicia? Be ready to hand me the title because I’m Hungry Like the Wolfe!”

I turned off my camera as the scene fades.
6
Supercard Roleplays / Re: VICTORIA LYONS (c) v ALEXANDRA CALAWAY - INTERNET TITLE
« Last post by Alexandra Calaway on February 28, 2026, 08:07:16 PM »
Going Home
Kasey-Calaway Home
Las Vegas, Nevada

The apartment smelled like breakfast, coffee, and the faint desert dust that always seemed to sneak in through the sliding balcony door. Suitcases lay open across the living room floor, one decently sized black roller for Alexandra, another with tag on the handle for LJ, and a purple hard-shell case Ashlynn had covered in band stickers.

Alexandra stood in front of the hallway mirror, tightening the ponytail with her shaky hands while balancing her phone between shoulder and ear. She had called home, to see if they could take the estate for the weekend. She wasn’t actually on a call anymore, the screen had gone dark, but she’d been staring at an old photo of her and her siblings outside a gym in Dallas. She caught her own reflection and forced a smirk.

“Don’t start that,” LJ said from the couch.

She glanced at him. “Start what darling?”

“That face.” He zipped his suitcase and tossed it upright. “The one you make when you’re pretending this is just another match.”

Ashlynn’s bedroom door creaked open. “Mom only makes that face when she’s about to ruin someone’s life,” she said matter-of-factly, stepping out in ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie. “But this is more than just a match isn’t it mom, it’s with that bitch?”

Alexandra gave her daughter a look. “Language Ashlynn.”

“You literally choke people for a living, mom.” Came the retort from the teenager.

“Technically I out-wrestle them.” Alexandra responded.

LJ snorted. “That’s one way to describe what you did to Barnhart in Washington.”

“That’s what I always do to Barnhart.” Alexandra ignored him and turned back to the mirror. “It’s Blaze of Glory. That’s it. Big stage. Big crowd. Same business.”

“Big history,” LJ corrected gently.

She didn’t answer.

Ashlynn plopped down on the arm of the couch. “It’s in Fort Worth, right? That’s like… basically where you grew up?”

“About thirty minutes west of Dallas,” Alexandra said automatically. “Different world, though.”

LJ leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s still Texas, Angel. Your stomping ground, your home, your kingdom.”

That word hung in the air for a moment. Texas. Home. Heat. High school gyms. Friday night lights. The first time she’d ever laced up her first pair of boots and decided she wasn’t going to be ordinary.

She finally peeled her eyes away from the mirror. “Yeah. It is.”

Ashlynn studied her mother. “Are you nervous?”

Alexandra laughed too quickly. “No.”

LJ raised an eyebrow, that knowing smirk crossing his features.

She sighed. “Okay. A little.”

“Because it’s there?” Ashlynn asked.

“Because it’s her,” Alexandra replied.

Silence settled heavier this time.

Victoria Lyons.

Even saying the name felt like biting down on something sharp. LJ stood and crossed the room, stopping just in front of Alexandra. He didn’t touch her yet, he knew better than to crowd her when she was wound tight.

“You’ve beaten her before,” he said quietly. “You can do it again, love.”

“And she’s beaten me repeatedly.” Alexandra’s jaw flexed. “We’re not tied in matches that matter. This one decides who walks into the year with the edge needed to reshape the divison.”

Ashlynn tilted her head. “Is she the blonde one who tried to end you repeatedly last year?”

“Yes.”

“And you took the chance away from her and..”

“Okay,” Alexandra cut in, laughing at her. “No play-by-play needed.”

“But that was awesome,” Ashlynn muttered. “You all showed everyone how tough the women in Sin City Wrestling are.”

LJ finally reached out, resting his hands on Alexandra’s hips. Grounding her. “It’s not just the rivalry,” he said. “It’s going back home and doing it there.”

She exhaled slowly. “You know what the worst part is?”

“What?”

“I used to sit in my bedroom in Dallas and watch tapes of women like her and promise myself I’d never let someone like that push me around. Now I’m flying back as her equal. In front of people who remember me before any of this.”

Ashlynn slid off the couch. “So let them see.”

Alexandra blinked. “See what?”

“The you now,” her daughter said simply. “Not the old one.”

LJ smiled faintly. “Kiddo’s got a point.”

Alexandra looked between them, her chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with pre-match nerves. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not,” LJ said. “But it’s yours.”

He stepped back and grabbed her suitcase, rolling it behind him. “Besides, you think Victoria doesn’t feel it too? Big anniversary show. Blaze of Glory fifteen. Packed house. Your hometown state. She’s walking into your territory.”

Alexandra’s lips curved slowly. “It’s neutral ground.”

“Is it?” LJ challenged.

Ashlynn grinned. “You said it yourself Texans are loud.”

“They are,” Alexandra admitted.

“And stubborn,” LJ added.

“And proud,” Ashlynn finished.

Alexandra shook her head, a reluctant smile breaking through. “You two are ridiculous.”

“But we’re right, love,” LJ said.

She walked to the coffee table and picked up the folded black leather jacket she wore to the ring. The back was scuffed from years of travel. The stitching at the collar was coming loose. It had been with her through her first main event with Sin City Wrestling, through injuries, through nights when the crowd booed and nights when they roared. Through every chapter of the war with Victoria Lyons. She slipped it on. The weight felt familiar. Steady.

“Fort Worth isn’t my territory,” she said quietly. “It’s my reminder.”

“Of what?” Ashlynn asked.

“Of why I started.”

LJ watched her carefully. “And why was that Angel?”

Alexandra met his eyes in the mirror. “Because nobody was going to tell me I couldn’t.”

A beat passed.

Then Ashlynn clapped once. “Okay, that was cool. Can we go now? I want Whataburger as soon as we land.”

Alexandra burst out laughing. “There it is. The real motivation.”

“Food is important,” Ashlynn said solemnly.

LJ grabbed the last suitcase and headed for the door. “Flight leaves in two hours. If we hit traffic, I’m blaming you.”

“You always blame me,” Alexandra shot back.

“Because you’re usually at fault.” Lj gave her a flirty wink and Ashlynn faked a gag.

She followed him toward the door, Ashlynn right behind her. Just before stepping out, Alexandra paused and looked back at the apartment: the small couch, the dent in the drywall from when she’d accidentally thrown a kick too high while shadowboxing, the little kitchen table where Ashlynn did homework while Alexandra iced bruised ribs. To the doorway that led to the bedroom where she slept with LJ every night. Las Vegas had been a new home, a new beginning for her and Ashlynn, a life with LJ Kasey. Texas had been her beginning, her old home. Blaze of Glory would be something else entirely.

“You ready?” LJ asked softly.

Alexandra turned, fire settling into her eyes like it had a permanent home there.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go remind Victoria exactly who she’s stepping into the ring with.”

Ashlynn pumped a fist. “That’s my mom.”

They stepped out into the desert evening, the apartment door clicking shut behind them as they headed toward the airport and toward Fort Worth, toward history, toward the war that had been building for over a year, through many small battles.

Visiting the Family Estate
Calaway Estate
Dallas, Texas

The second the plane doors opened, Texas air rolled in, thicker than Vegas, heavier somehow. Familiar.

Ashlynn stretched on the jet bridge. “Okay, yeah. This feels different now.”

“That’s humidity,” LJ said, adjusting the strap on his duffel. “You and your mother grew up in soup.”

Alexandra didn’t laugh. She’d gone quiet the moment they touched down at Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. Inside the terminal, it didn’t take long. A couple of fans near a coffee stand froze mid-sip. One whispered. Another nudged his friend.

“That’s her.” Fans whisper to each other.

“And that’s LJ, right? From Sin City Wrestling?”

“He’s so handsome..” A girl spoke.

“I heard they just got engaged during the Christmas offtime.” Her friend spoke.

LJ exhaled under his breath. “Told you.”

Alexandra smirked faintly. “You love it.”

“I tolerate it. Sometimes, love.”

They didn’t make it ten feet before a small cluster approached, respectful, excited, buzzing.

“Alexandra! We’ll see you at Blaze of Glory!”

“LJ, man, your matches last month were insane!”

Ashlynn stepped slightly to the side, used to this choreography by now. Alexandra signed a boarding pass, LJ took a quick photo with two college-aged fans in SCW hoodies.

“Are you ready for Victoria?” someone asked.

The name hung there. Victoria, Victoria fucking Lyons. Alexandra’s smile sharpened. “Always.”

LJ clapped a fan on the shoulder. “Fort Worth’s gonna be loud. Y’all better show up.”

“Oh, we will!”

As they walked toward baggage claim, Ashlynn leaned in. “You two are like celebrities.”

“We are celebrities,” LJ corrected.

“Wrestling ones,” Alexandra added dryly.

Baggage claim was more of the same, double takes, whispers, a few discreet photos. But it wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t invasive. It was anticipation. Outside, the Texas night wrapped around them. Not desert-dry like Vegas. This air carried grass, asphalt, and something sweet she couldn’t name.

LJ tossed the suitcases into the back of the rental SUV. “You sure you want to go straight there?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Ashlynn slid into the backseat. “I want to see if my room still smells like my candles.”

LJ gave Alexandra a look before getting behind the wheel. “We don’t have to stay long.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But there’s something I need to grab while we're here."

They pulled onto the highway, headlights stretching endlessly in front of them. As they drove east, the skyline rose in the distance, glass and steel catching the glow of streetlights.When the illuminated sphere of Reunion Tower came into view, Ashlynn leaned forward between the seats.

“I forgot how big it looks.”

“You never really forget,” Alexandra murmured.

Traffic thinned as they turned into the gated neighborhood. The Estate loomed ahead, white stone, manicured lawn, wide windows that once felt like victory. The gates opened with a soft mechanical hum.

“It looks the same,” Ashlynn said.

It did. The porch light flicked on automatically as they pulled into the driveway. For a moment, none of them moved.

LJ broke the silence first. “You want me to go in first?”

Alexandra shook her head. “No. Damien and Mika have been keeping it up. Probably turned it into a goth paradise.”

She stepped out, the gravel crunching under her boots. The house stood still, pristine. Untouched. Just months ago, it had been everything. Now it felt like a chapter already printed. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Stillness greeted them. The air smelled faintly of cleaner and old wood. The furniture remained staged and immaculate. The staircase curved upward like it always had.

Ashlynn walked inside slowly. “It feels smaller.”

“It’s not,” Alexandra said.

“I know. It just… feels like it.”

Upstairs, Ashlynn disappeared toward her old room. LJ stayed near the entryway, watching Alexandra instead of the house.

“You okay?”

She stepped into the living room, eyes drifting to the fireplace. “This place was supposed to mean we made it.”

“You did.”

“I thought it would feel different.”

Footsteps sounded overhead. Then silence, too long of one. Ashlynn reappeared at the top of the stairs. “My room’s so empty."

Alexandra blinked. “Empty?”

“Just walls.” She shrugged. “None of my posters. Just a bed. Nothing.” A quiet settled over the house.

“That’s good,” LJ said gently.

Alexandra climbed the stairs. Each step felt heavier than it should. She stopped in the doorway to Ashlynn’s old room. Bare walls. Soft light. Echo.

Ashlynn stood beside her. “It’s weird, right?”

“Yeah.”

Ashlynn bumped her shoulder lightly. “But I kinda like that it’s empty.”

“Why?” Alexandra asked.

Ashlynn looked around once more, then back at her mom. “Because it means we didn’t leave something unfinished,” she said. “We outgrew it.”

Alexandra swallowed hard.

Downstairs, LJ called up, “Hey.” They both looked over the railing. He stood in the foyer, hands on his hips, half-smiling. “You two coming? Or are we moving back in?”

Alexandra glanced around one last time, the quiet, the polish, the version of herself who once believed this house was the destination. Then she slipped an arm around Ashlynn’s shoulders.

“No.” she said. “We’re just visiting for the weekend. Easier than booking a hotel. Besides we came because there’s something I need to pick up from the attic.”

Ashlynn blinked. “The attic?”

LJ’s eyes narrowed slightly, not suspicious, just curious. “You didn’t mention that part.”

“I didn’t need to,” Alexandra replied gently. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Ashlynn made a face. “Hard pass. Attics are horror-movie territory.”

“That’s because you watch too much late-night streaming,” LJ said.

Alexandra slipped off her jacket and draped it over the banister. “Stay down here. I’ll be right back.”

LJ caught her wrist before she could turn away. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, grounding. “You want company?”

She held his gaze for a second too long.

“No,” she said softly. “I need to do this part alone.”

He studied her, then nodded. “We’ll be here love.”

Ashlynn flopped onto the couch. “If you get attacked by a raccoon, I’m not coming up there.”

Alexandra smirked faintly. “Duly noted.”

She moved toward the hallway closet and pulled the cord that lowered the attic ladder. The wood unfolded with a creak that echoed louder than it should have in the quiet house. For a moment, she just stared up into the dark opening above. For decades it sat up there, wrapped in its silk guard, with a ribbon keeping it closed to the dust and debris.

Then she climbed up, each step groaned under her weight. The air changed as she rose, warmer, thicker with insulation and old dust. The single pull-chain bulb flickered to life when she tugged it, casting a pale yellow glow across boxes, covered furniture, and forgotten corners. The attic felt smaller than she remembered. Or maybe she was just bigger now. She stepped carefully across the wooden beams until she reached the far wall. There it was. An old cedar chest tucked behind two plastic storage bins and a folded treadmill that hadn’t worked in years.

Her chest tightened.

For a second, she just stood there, staring at it like it might disappear if she blinked. Downstairs, faintly, she could hear Ashlynn laughing at something LJ said. The sound drifted up through the ceiling, alive, warm. Alexandra knelt in front of the chest, cust coated the lid, she ran her palm across it, leaving a clean streak through the gray. Her left hand caught the light as she reached for the latch.

The engagement ring shimmered under the bare bulb. She paused, her hand hovered there, suspended between past and present. The diamond wasn’t oversized or flashy. LJ had known her better than that. It was strong, simple. Clean lines. Something that would survive wear and tear. Something elegant, yet tasteful, something so very her. What LJ saw in her. She twisted her wrist slowly, watching how the light fractured across the stone. A promise, not just of love, but of stability. Of partnership. Of a future that wasn’t built on proving something to the world. Her throat tightened.

“You’re really doing this,” she murmured to herself. “It’s time to set that date.”

She opened the chest. The hinges creaked softly. Inside, folded with careful precision and wrapped in protective cloth, lay the wedding dress. Ivory. Structured bodice. Elegant but not delicate. Strong seams a clean silhouette. No excessive lace. No dramatic train to trip over.

It was her.

Or at least, the version of her who believed she could have both war and peace in the same lifetime. She lifted it slowly, fabric whispering as it unfolded in her hands. Dust motes swirled in the air around her, caught in the single beam of light. Alexandra stood, holding the dress up in front of her. The attic was silent and empty. She swallowed.

“I didn’t think I’d come back for you,” she admitted quietly to the still room. “Yet here I am.”

When she and Ashlynn left Texas months ago, she’d told herself this chapter was closed. The Estate, the expectations, the version of success she thought she needed. But this, this wasn’t about proving anything. Her fingers brushed the bodice, then drifted back down to her ring.

She remembered the night LJ proposed. Not flashy. Not public. Just the two of them in their living room in Las Vegas as LJ and Alexandra finished the puzzle box together. Telling her daughter, Ashlynn, pretending not to cry. Alexandra pretending she wasn’t terrified of wanting something permanent. Victoria Lyons had once sneered that Alexandra didn’t know how to build anything she couldn’t tear down. Alexandra looked at the dress again.

“Watch me,” she whispered.

She lowered the gown slightly, letting it hang from her hands. For the first time since landing in Texas, the tightness in her chest eased. This house wasn’t her proof anymore. The ring on her finger was. The family downstairs was.

And the fight waiting in Fort Worth? That was just business.

She folded the dress carefully, reverently, and placed it back in the chest, then paused. No. She lifted it out again. Time to push the fear of the future aside. This wasn’t something to hide in an attic anymore. Cradling it against her chest, she reached up and switched off the light. The attic fell into darkness as she descended the ladder slowly, step by deliberate step. When her feet hit the hallway floor, LJ and Ashlynn both looked up.

Ashlynn’s eyes widened. “Is that?”

Alexandra met LJ’s gaze first. She kept the dress tucked in the wrappings. “Yeah,” she said softly. “It’s time.”

LJ nodded knowingly. “Alright Love.”

“For now, we have a show to get ready for. Let’s go get some dinner.” She put the wrapped dress on the hallway table, near their suitcases.

The Estate stood quiet behind them as they walked toward the SUV, not as something lost, but as something completed. Ahead of them was Blaze of Glory. And waiting in Fort Worth, Texas, just thirty minutes west.

Victoria Lyons, and another shot at Gold.

This is War
Dickies Arena
Fort Worth, Texas

Alexandra was standing outside the Dickies Arena, looking up at the looming building she saw being built years ago. She took a deep breath, her eyes focused on it for a moment before she turned back to the camera and spoke.

“A Kingdom is nothing if its Queen isn’t strong enough to fight it. This isn’t your kingdom anymore Victoria, it never really was. You sit around acting like you run the division, but I have yet to see you claim the real crown. The Bombshell Roulette Champions, the Bombshell Internet Title, Queen for a Day.. they are all nothing compared to the World Championship. That’s the real crown here, yet, you haven’t gotten close to that yet. Been there, done that. Didn’t claim that crown, but I got damned close, closer than you ever have.”

She thinks about the past between her and Victoria. It was long and storied, battling all over the world, over a strap, bleeding each other every single time, the threats, the thrown words, the call for someone to destroy Alexandra, ordered by the so-called Queen Victoria.

“You stand around, barking orders, taking your spot as the Queen within the division. Perhaps in a way, yes, you are. You had the title, just as I did. We both have been Queen for a day, there’s the kicker, a day. You let that power go to your head. You believe yourself to still be a Queen, based on the fact of a few wins, but you forget the way you got there. That’s where you slipped up. You aren’t a Queen because you were born to do this, you are a Queen because you don’t care who you step on to get there. And that’s where you are going to make your biggest mistake. I give you this, you’ve never discredited my career or time here, or my accomplishments. In that respect, I appreciate you, but it will not stop me from coming for that Bombshell Internet Championship.”

Being the  Bombshell Internet Champion would be an amazing way to walk out of Blaze of Glory, but Alexandra knew it wouldn’t be as easy as the tournament to get here had been.

“We don’t live in a fantasy world here. Being a Queen here is no different than being a Disney Princess at a Theme Park or a birthday party. It’s as fake as your throne was and I burned that to the bloody ground. So yeah, I never give up, I’m resilient, every single time you’ve thought you banished me I come right back. So what does that mean for you this time? It means that this time, I'm ready for you.”

She took a moment, pausing to look at the world around her.

“I need you to really think about this here. You have so much going for you, so much, yet you choose to continue to put your boot on the heads of those who got you there, you learn nothing from your mistakes. You see, I almost let that crown go to my head too. I almost became like you, but then I remembered those who had my back. I made mistakes and I had to pay for them, I almost lost my best friend, Miles. He made sure that I checked myself, before I fucked up everything good in my life. I found myself and I reclaimed not, not on the backs of others, or at the destruction of others. I found it through my own sweat, blood and tears.”

She thought about everything she had just said about what happened. She had almost lost herself in that crown, thanks to Miles, he verbally smacked her back into her right mind. She found herself again through her hard work, now she had the chance to claim the Bombshell Internet Championship, from her biggest competitor, Victoria Lyons. The false pretender Queen of Sin City Wrestling.

“And I say this this, to reach this point, I respect the things you’ve done, you carried a portion of the division on your back. You took on all competitors, you brought them to their knees one by one. Including myself multiple times over. But then I realized something, all this, bravado, this attitude. This persona you are putting on, it’s all an act. It’s a cover up for the fact that you know, deep down inside, eventually, it’s all going to fade away, just like it did for me. After that it’s back to the bottom and building your way up, like I did.”

She laughed at the thought that they’ve both been on the same path this whole time. Chasing each other around the world.

“There’s also the fact that the path you are going on, it’s going to lead to your very destruction. You can believe however you want, believe you are the best, that you are unbreakable, undefeatable, and indestructible. But in the end someone will always have your number. This time, I plan on it being me.”

She took a few moments to pause again, looking up at the Dickies Arena, the banner for Blaze For Glory XV hanging on the side of the building. Was there more that could be said? Always, but for now, she was going to play it close to the hip. To make her point perfectly clear once and for all.

“Victoria, you and I are two sides of the same coin. Our paths run parallel to each other and we are bound to consistently be on opposing sides. You and I, we are always going to be locked in this embroiled battle with each other. We are going to consistently find a way to fight each other. And in the end you are going to realize one simple fact, resilience means everything. See you soon Vicky.”

With that, Alexandra turns and walks up the steps to stand in the light that shines upwards onto the Dickies arena as the scene fades to black.
7
Supercard Roleplays / Do Not Disturb
« Last post by Celtic Thunder on February 28, 2026, 07:03:35 PM »
La Quinta Inn & Suites -
Las Vegas, Nevada


Ciarán lay on his back, not even trying to sleep. He stared at the ceiling the way people stared at a television when they didn't care what was on. There was a hairline crack in the paint above the bed that forked like a tiny lightning bolt, and he found himself tracing the arc with his eyes. Just for something to do.

His mind did not race the way it did before a match or performance. Instead, it felt as if he was struggling to form even the most basic of coherent thoughts. He knew well what he should be doing. The mental checklist was at the forefront of his mind. Shower. Teeth. Food. Check in with the family.

He knew what he should be doing. He wanted to do it. The problem was the mental gap between imagining and moving felt about as wide as Whittard Canyon.

He shifted once and even that felt like a monumental effort and made him want to close his eyes. Not to sleep, just to do something besides stare at the ceiling. The bed had become a mental sanctuary, more so than the isolation of the room overall. Here, he was not Ciarán Doyle the wrestler, not the bloke who took his pants off and gave the ladies a show. Here, tucked away in the confines of his room, he could be nobody at all. He was just a body taking up space.

At some point his stomach tightened with hunger but he ignored it. He told himself he would feel better if he ate, but the idea was just too much to deal with. He told himself he would feel better if he showered, but the idea of standing under the hot, cascading water felt unbearable. All he wanted to do was just lay there.

So by the fourth day, time just seemed to stop. It was just light and dark inside of the room with the shades drawn, at the time he didn't even pay attention to the clock to tell him what time it was. There were weak signs scattered around the room that served as evidence that life went on. A t-shirt he had dropped by the chair. A pair of socks kicked under the bed. A half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand. The trash bin was filled with crisps wrappers and protein bar sleeves because they required no effort beyond unwrapping.

He knew he smelled, not horribly so but just enough to be aware of himself. Sweat dried on his skin. His hair lay greasy against his forehead, which was a testament to how he felt internally as his hair had always been his pride and joy. His toothbrush sat by the sink. The thought of brushing his teeth felt absurdly complicated. He would have to stand there, mirror in front of him, looking at himself. Looking at his own, haunted eyes looking back at an emotional ghost.

He had been good at self-discipline once. Training schedules, meal plans, the rituals of a wrestler/dancer who knew his body was his job. Now the rituals felt like demands made by a stranger. He would stand in the bathroom doorway and stare at the shower and he would not step in. He would turn away and simply go back to bed. He told himself he was choosing rest. He told himself he was recovering. But the truth was that he had started to dread movement because movement meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering the sound of pain and disappointment in Ruairí’s voice when he confessed about the night he was sexually assaulted at a bridal shower.

His phone buzzed but he didn’t bother to look. It buzzed again later but he still couldn't bother to look at the screen to see who was trying to reach him. On the third buzz he immediately reached blindly for his phone and turned it off.

Then the knock came the following morning. Ciarán froze, staring at the door like it might burst open on its own.

“Housekeeping.” A woman called from outside, cheerful and professional. “Hello? Housekeeping.”

He held his breath, waiting for her to go away. Another knock followed, slightly firmer, and the voice repeated. He imagined her with a cart outside, keys jangling, a schedule in her head, a list of rooms to turn over and reset. He imagined her patience thinning.

The thought of someone entering made his stomach turn. The mess. The smell. The bed he had lived in like it was the only safe place on earth. He literally was feeling shame more so than dread. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes that felt like sandpaper.

“Just a minute!” He called, and his voice came out hoarse.

He stood up and steadied himself with a hand on the dresser before crossing to the door and opening it. The housekeeper was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a genuine smile, pushing a cart stacked with towels and cleaning supplies.

“Good morning.” She said. “Would you like service today?”

Ciarán swallowed. He could smell himself more clearly now, shame rising to color his neck and ears. He forced his face into something neutral, something that might pass for normal.

“Aye.” He nodded, stepping aside to give her entry into the room. “Sorry. I’ve been a fair bit out of sorts.”

She did not ask questions. She just nodded. “No worries. If you want to step out for a bit, I can take care of the room.”

Stepping out felt like stepping off a cliff, but staying in while she worked felt worse. Ciarán grabbed his keycard and slipped past her with awkward politeness. Stepping out onto the patio, he closed his eyes, almost remembering when he used to love the warm winds and bright blue skies. Now? Now he just wished the Las Vegas air would blow the stink off of him. He walked to the railing by the stairwell and tried to breathe slowly, but each inhale caught in his chest. Behind him, he heard the soft rustle of the housekeeper moving in his room. The sound of sheets being pulled, trash being gathered, the small clink of bottles. Ordinary noises that felt like nails on a chalkboard.

When she finally emerged, she smiled again. “All done. Fresh towels inside.”

“Thank you.” He said quickly.

“Have a good day.” She replied, and she moved on down the hall and toward the next door.

Ciarán quickly went back inside and closed the door behind him, pressing his back to it for a moment. The room looked cleaner, brighter. The bed was made with tight corners that made, the trash was gone. He even noticed that the window was slightly open to air the room out, perhaps a silent tell from the lovely lady that there indeed was an odor, be it the room or him.

Then, quietly, he climbed under the covers again and lay down. He didn’t even know when he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. All he knew was that when he woke up, his stomach was in painful knots from hunger. He had a stash of snacks from the lobby, crackers, jerky, and a bag of pretzels. Safe foods. Foods his mam would call shite and she’d be right to do so.

But the day came when the snacks ran out and he was left with nothing but hunger. He lay there until his body began to protest. His hands trembled slightly when he tried to open a bottle of water. His stomach cramped from nothing filling it. He developed headaches and felt that weak feeling one went through when going too long without eating. That’s when he finally broke down and picked up the phone, ignoring the multitude of missed calls and texts inquiring about his well being. The only thing he cared about right now was the Door Dash app.

The app offered him pictures of food that looked too colourful, too alive. Burgers with glossy buns. Tacos stacked high with bright salsa. Bowls of noodles steaming. His throat tightened as if he might cry, and he did not understand why. Food was just food. Ordering it was normal. He had ordered food a thousand times. Yet the act of choosing felt like admitting he needed something, and the act of needing something felt like failure.

His emerald green eyes gazed at the various options offered to him from the menu of countless restaurants, everything from Italian to tacos and even so-called traditional kebabs. The same ones he used to order for his family back home. That memory alone brought a fresh wave of emotion against him and he didn’t know why. It was just food.

The waiting felt worse than the hunger. Every sound outside made him visibly tense. He sat on the floor, his eyes staring at the updates on his phone app as the delivery driver drew nearer. When the app said “Delivered,” he forced himself up and walked to the door. He opened it a crack and saw the bag sitting there. He picked it up fast and shut the door with a shaky hand. The smell hit him immediately, the smell of lamb kebab reminding him of home and it felt like his heart fractured.

He sank to the floor with the bag in his lap and pressed his forehead to his knees. Tears came abruptly, hot and humiliating, and he covered his mouth with his hand to keep from making sound. His shoulders shook. He cried like a man who had been holding his breath for days. The sobs were silent but violent, pulling at him from the inside. He hated himself for it. He hated that something as small as a meal could break him.

When the crying eased, he wiped his face with the sleeve of the same hoodie he had been wearing too long. He opened the bag and started to pull the kebab and chips along with a small but generous salad when the knock came again, startling him. It was not the same polite rhythm from housekeeping earlier. This was heavier, more deliberate.

Ciarán stared at the door and waited, hoping whoever it was would decide it was the wrong room. A second knock followed, louder. Even more insistent than before.

“Ciarán!” A voice called through the door, and his blood went cold. Not from his name being spoken like that. But the voice behind it. The Irish, rough around the edges, all-too familiar voice.

“Ciarán Doyle!” The voice repeated, closer to the door now, as if the speaker had leaned in. “Don’t you dare sit in there pretendin’ you can’t hear me! Open the damn door, lad!”

Ruairí O’Callaghan.

His best friend.


"Aye, so here we are."

"Blaze of Glory XV. Not just yer average Sunday night tune-up match. This is a prime Supercard event, and for the first time since I walked into Sin City Wrestling, I made the cut. I’m in a match where the prize isn’t just a win, it’s momentum. It’s the kind of opportunity that changes the way this locker room looks at you an says your name."

"And it’s not just any opportunity either. It’s a chance at the Roulette Championship. That belt is chaos personified. You don’t defend it against the same sort of lad every time. Every opponent is different, every match decided with a flick of the wheel. As Roulette Champion, you don’t get to settle in and get comfortable. Roulette means uncertainty. It means every defence could be a different kind of fight every night and the champion has to be ready for all of it. That title turns a good wrestler into an unpredictable sort capable of changing at a moment’s notice an’ everyone’s always lookin’ for the right moment to take it off you."

"An’ that sounds good to me because I didn’t come across the ocean to be some novelty act. I didn’t come here to be the Irish lad with the accent who can scrap a bit and make the crowd cheer because I’ve a new face with a bright smile. I came here because I know there are nights in this sport that change careers. Blaze of Glory is one of those nights. This match is one of those chances."

"Now I’m goin’ to say somethin’ that might make a few of you laugh, and a few more of you nod because you already know. I don’t quite understand the concept of a Ladder Match. I’m not sayin’ I don’t understand the rules, I’m not thick. Four men. One ladder. A briefcase hangin’ up there like a shiny promise. Climb. Unhook. Win. I get that much."

"What I don’t understand is the way some of you talk about it like it proves who the better wrestler is. Because tell me this … how does climbin’ a ladder decide who’s the best between the ropes? If the measure of greatness is who can climb faster, we may as well book a track meet and hang titles at the end."

"But maybe that’s the point of it here in SCW. Maybe this place is sayin’ if I want a shot at the most unpredictable title in the business, then I have to earn it through pure chaos. Fine, I say! Bring those three lads along for the ride and let’s see which of us can survive a night’s chaos for a moment that will define us.”

"I’m new around here, aye. I’ll own that. I’m still learnin’ the rhythm of this place, still learnin’ who shakes your hand and who smiles while they’re lookin’ for a knife. But bein’ new doesn’t mean bein’ soft, and it doesn’t mean bein’ blind. It means I’ve been watchin’, and I’ve been takin’ notes. It means I’ve been learnin’ what makes each of my opponents dangerous, because a Fatal Fourway Ladder match isn’t about outwrestlin’ one man. It’s about survivin’ three at once while the environment itself is tryin’ to break you."

"So let’s talk about them."

"First, ‘Bulldog’ Bill Barnhart. That name carries weight. It carries history. Multiple championships. Multiple Hall of Fame inductions. When people talk about legacy in this locker room, his is one of the first names they mention because he’s been doin’ this so long and so well that it’s easy to forget he was once the young lad fightin’ for respect too. And I’ll give him his due. Bill Barnhart is the kind of opponent you don’t get every day. He’s the kind you face and you learn somethin’, even if the lesson comes with a fist to the jaw. I’ve been waitin’ anxiously for a chance to stand across from him because, for me, that’s a true test. That’s the standard. That’s the question I have to ask myself. Can I look at a man who’s done it all and make him respect me the hard way?"

"But I’ll be honest as well. There's one part of the Barnhart package that sticks in my craw and it’s his wife, Bea. The manager. The one always gettin’ involved, always meddlin’, an’ always playin’ the victim after as if the opponents are the guilty party for reactin’."

"So Bill, let me say this plain. I respect you. I respect what you’ve done. I respect that you’ve paved the way for lads like me to be taken seriously when we arrive in a new place. But if Bea puts her hands on this match, if she starts playin’ puppet master then you an’ she both are gonna learn that this is a ladder match, which means anythin’ goes, and it also means consequences come quicker than apologies."

"Now for Zayvion Lyons."

"I’ll admit it, it’s a damn shame to lose Eddie Lyons. You don’t replace a name like that and pretend it’s business as usual. But SCW didn’t bring in Zayvion to replace Eddie. They brought him in to carry the Lyons Den forward, and the lad’s been on fire since his debut. Until recently he’d been unbeaten, and even now he carries himself like someone who believes he’s meant for bigger things. The fans love him and me? What I respect most is he doesn’t want to rely on the Lyons name. He could coast on it, but instead he’s tryin’ to prove that when he wins, it’s because he earned it, not because of what’s on his birth certificate. That’s a decent sort of man, that."

"So Zayvion, I’m lookin’ forward to steppin’ in the ring with you. Not because I think you’ll be easy. You won’t. You’re quick, you’re hungry, and you’ve got that confidence that makes a lad dangerous, especially in a ladder match where hunger turns into high risk. But I’ll tell you this as well. If you climb that ladder and you reach for that briefcase, I’m meetin’ you up there, and I’m draggin’ you down, because this is my first Supercard cut and I’m not lettin’ it become your coronation."

"And then last and certainly least, there’s Brayden Williams."

"Brayden, what is it now, 0-12? I’d call it a record, but for that to be accurate you’d have to have a win somewhere along the line. You’re collectin’ losses like souvenirs, lad. I remember facin’ you in one of my first matches here an’ everyone thought the third generation star would shine through. But it wasn’t the brightest of stars, was it? It was a fallin’ one. Bright for a second in the minds of people desperate to believe a story, and then gone. And the longer you’ve been here, the more it looks like the story was wishful thinkin’."

"So I have to ask, and I’m not askin’ to be cruel, I’m askin’ because I genuinely want to understand. How is someone with your track record the son of Crystal Zdunich? Why did they waste the ink signin’ you to a contract if it wasn’t mommy pullin’ a few strings? And more importantly, why did they put you in this match? What have you done to deserve the opportunity?"

"Because this is supposed to be a match for a chance at the Roulette Championship. This is supposed to elevate people. It’s supposed to be a match where you look at the names and you think, ‘Aye, any of them could take it.’ But you don’t feel like a contender, Brayden. You feel like padding. Like a body they tossed in to take a bump off a ladder and make the others look even better than they already do. In other words, you’re nothing more than a sacrificial lamb."

"And that should offend you. That should light a fire in you, because desperation is dangerous. Desperation makes a man do stupid things. It makes him swing a ladder like it’s a baseball bat and hope it connects. It makes him climb when he shouldn’t, reach when he’s not steady, take a risk that ends with his arse kissin’ the canvas."

"So maybe that’s why you’re in this match. Not because you deserve it, but because they know you’re reckless. They know you’ll do somethin’ insane just to feel relevant. And that means I have to treat you seriously, even if I don’t respect you. Just remember that while you think of yourself as a star, any grade school kid can tell ya that a star ain’t nothin’ more than a big ball of gas."

"Now let’s talk about Blaze of Glory and what’s actually goin’ to happen."

"I didn’t claw my way into this match to be background noise. I didn’t make the cut for the biggest show of the season so I could fall off the ladder and get a participation trophy. I made the cut because someone looked at my work and decided I was worth the spot, worth the risk, worth the gamble. Either way, I intend to make them lok back at their decision and think to themselves, that I did them right.."

"I might not believe a ladder match proves the better wrestler, but I do know what it demands. It demands willingness. It demands pain tolerance. It demands that when the safest choice is to stay down, you choose to get up anyway. That’s not a ladder match thing, that’s basic survival."

"So when I say I’m goin’ to climb, I’m not sayin’ it like a lad who thinks the ladder makes him better. I’m sayin’ it like a lad who knows the ladder is just the stage for what’s always been true. The one who wins is the one who refuses to quit when quittin’ makes sense. The one who wins is the one who takes the hit, tastes the blood, feels the pain, and still finds a way to keep movin’ toward the prize."

"Bill Barnhart, you’re the test. You’re the measurin’ stick. You’re the proof that experience still bites. I respect you, and I’m goin’ to hit you like I respect you, which means I’m not holdin’ back. Zayvion Lyons, you’re the future tryin’ to become the present, and I won’t be the steppin’ stone you use to get there. Brayden Williams, you’re the question mark they tossed in, and if you do somethin’ stupid, I’ll make you pay for it."

"At Blaze of Glory XV, there’s goin’ to be a moment when the ring’s littered with ladders and bodies, when the crowd’s roarin’ and the lights are hot. There’s goin’ to be a moment when one man starts to climb and the whole match narrows to that image, hands on rungs, boots searchin’ for balance, the briefcase hangin’ there like it’s nervous about bein’ claimed."

"And in that moment, I want all of SCW to understand somethin’ about Ciarán Doyle."

"I didn’t come here to be ‘a good hand.’ I didn’t come here to be ‘potential.’ I didn’t come here to be the nice addition to the roster. I came here to take somethin’. I came here to earn somethin’ that can’t be handed to me by politics or legacy or family names. I came here to put my name on the kind of match that forces people to remember it."

"So if the ladder is the way SCW wants to measure me, fine. I’ll climb. I’ll climb over a Hall of Famer. I’ll climb through the fire of the Lyons Den. I’ll climb past a fallin’ star swingin’ wild because he’s terrified of bein’ forgotten. I’ll climb with my ribs achin’ and my hands shakin’ and my lungs burnin’, and I’ll do it because the view from the top is where careers change."

"And when my fingers close around that briefcase, when I unhook it and I hold it up, you’ll have your answer."

"Blaze of Glory XV. Fatal Fourway. Ladder match. Chance at the Roulette Championship."

"I made the cut, and I’m not leavin’ empty-handed."
8
Supercard Roleplays / Eulogy
« Last post by Victoria Lyons on February 28, 2026, 07:50:06 AM »
There was a stillness in the house that always came around the time of an scw live event when Victoria had one of her bigger matches more so when that match entailed defending a championship. It wasn't silent, there was never silence. There was always the low hum of the refrigerator, the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional beep from the smoke detector that she had told Darian to take care of a week ago.

She understood why he hadn't though, their life had been busy. He had been helping her prepare for a championship defense and for their wedding.  For her dress but they had already found his tuxedo and she knew he was going to look so handsome up there in his little teal bow tie.

Victoria sat cross-legged on the living room floor with her Bombshell Internet Championship resting on her lap, the dim lamp light reflecting off the gold as her fingers traced the faceplate, absently brushing over the etching of her name.

Darian rested on the couch nearby, leaning back with one arm draped over the top cushion.

“So it's time for the stare again?” he said quietly.

“It's not a stare.” she said, not looking back at him.

“It's definitely a stare.” he said “The same one you get before every one of your bigger matches, where you look like you're replaying every mistake you've ever made in 4k.”

“I've said it before.” she said “I don't make mistakes, I make adjustments.”

Darian nodded.

“And now you're adjusting for Alexandra Calaway.” he said.

…..Alexandra Calaway.

A faint smirk crept across her face as the name lingered between them. Their history wasn't something new, it wasn't built on a single promo or contract signing. It was layered and complicated. Competitive in a way that had come around from being close to personal into a strange form of respect.

She wasn't sure why she felt a simmering sense of respect now for Calaway, the same person who had become her first true rival in Sin City Wrestling. The same person that heard her throne to the ground and claimed her crown by succeeding her as queen for a day. Maybe it was Calaway's no quit attitude.  The crazy bitch kept coming back for more, and that type of mentality was something Victoria couldn't help but have respect for.

"I've beaten her more times than she's beaten me, but that doesn't mean she isn't dangerous. The thing people don't understand is she's patient, she'll let you think you're dictating the pace and building momentum and then she just..” Victoria snaps her fingers. “Takes your balance and knocks the air right out of you.”

She looked down at her championship instinctively pulling it closer as if protecting it.

“She's chasing… that means she's hungry.” Victoria said “When you're chasing, you take risks because you have to. But when you're defending, everyone expects you to wrestle safe and be careful.”

“You don't do careful.” Darian said

“Careful is how you lose to Alicia Lukas.” she said the words coming out sharper than she intended them to.

She could feel the air slightly shift. The loss to Alicia Lukas still burned in her mind as she pushed herself up from the floor and headed towards the kitchen, arms folded, resting her championship on the coffee table still glinting under the dim light.

“I let her dictate the match.” Victoria admitted “I tried to out wrestle her instead of overwhelming her. I tried to beat her at her own pace and it cost me.”

She grips the edge of the little open kitchen counter with both hands.

“I let myself hesitate..” she continued “And that's not a mistake I intend to make again.”

“You think you hesitated?” Darian asked walking over and stopping a few feet behind her.

“I know I did.” she said, turning to look Darian in the eyes. “There were moments where I should have turned up the aggression and taken the risk but instead I chose to play the long game.”

She exhaled heavily.

“I refuse to make mistakes when the gold is on the line.” she said.

“So what's different?” Darian asked

“This time I remember but it feels like to walk to the back without the victory.” she said “The look on everyone's face, the disappointment they try to hide. I'm not walking into Blaze of Glory to prove I can out-think Alexandra Calaway. I'm walking in remind her that when a championship is on the line I don't escalate..”

She let her gaze meet Darian's eyes.

“I detonate.” she said.

“There's my queen.” Darian grinned.

“Queen..” she repeated quietly with a soft smile.

Funny how that moniker still carried weight with her. She no longer had a throne, Calaway had worked with her cousin Alexander Lyons to infiltrate and burn her throne to the ground. Her crown had been seized from her to be given to the next year's winner, which of course was none other than Alexandra Calaway.

Alexandra hadn't ripped the crown off her head, or pinned her for it. She had simply won it the year after. But symbolism has a funny way of blurring technicalities, and that queenlike aura still surrounded Victoria.

“I guess we're both queens in a way.” Victoria said “She won her year the same way I won mine, by surviving the chaos and outlasting the field. I can respect that.”

What she found surprising was that, that was the truth, she meant that. Alexandra Calaway didn't need to steal her moment,  she went out and created her own legacy.

“She didn't dethrone me physically.” Victoria continued “But she made sure nobody forgot her name after my reign. When I won queen for a day,  it felt like the beginning of something, and when she won it the year after it felt like a statement.”

“What kind of statement?” asked Darian.

“That she wasn't behind me..” Victoria replied “That she was beside me.”

“Equal.” nodded Darian.

“Yes.” said Victoria “And equals are dangerous. I've beaten her, she's beaten me,  but every time we meet it shifts something.  Right now the narrative wants to say that she's the one ascending and I'm stabilizing.”

“You don't believe that.” Darian chuckled.

“No.” said Victoria her eyes flashing “When Alexandra won Queen for a Day she proved she can carry a moment,  but I've proven I can carry a division. She's resilient, I'll give her that. She refuses to go away and she doesn't shrink after her setbacks and that's why I've grown to respect her.”

“But respect doesn't mean restraint.” Darian said.

“It never has.” said Victoria “I can't underestimate her. That's how you lose to someone like Alexandra Calaway. You underestimate her,  and she's going to sniff that out real quick and it'll be over before you even see it coming.”

She rested her elbows on the kitchen countertop.

“She's calculating and smart.” Victoria said “She's going to believe this is her moment to tip the scales in our rivalry but history says when it matters most I rise first.”

She exhaled softly.

“She won her crown and I won mine.” Victoria continued “But now it's about who walks out at Blaze of Glory with the Internet Championship.”

She paused before turning to look Darian in the eyes again.

“Alexandra Calaway has yet to actually defeat me for a championship.” she said “And she's not starting at Blaze of Glory. She's stepping into the ring with a champion who remembers what it's like to lose, and refuses to feel it twice in a row.”

She kissed Darian softly on the cheek, she may have considered Alexandra Calaway her equal, but she had no intention of letting her equal become her superior. Blaze of Glory was going to be another chapter in the Lyons/Calaway feud, and she had every intention of making sure her name remained in front.

__________

The boutique lost its charm hours ago. Victoria had found it soft and romantic when she walked in with its ivory drapes, golden mirrors, and  that delicate music drifting from the speakers. Now everything felt too bright and too tight.

Too tight.

Victoria stood on the platform,  it must have been her eighth dress of the day. The attendant circled her carefully adjusting a scene during the hip.

“No.” Victoria said bluntly.

“No?” the attendant replied gently

“The bust line sits unevenly when I breathe.” said Victoria.

“It's structured to move naturally.” the attendant replied.

“It pulls to the left.” Victoria replied inhaling sharply to demonstrate “There, do you see it?"

“It's very subtle…” the attendant replied.

“If I can see it then it's not subtle.” Victoria said “It's my day and my dress will be as perfect as I want it.”

It had already been six hours,  eight different dresses and three glasses of that cheap complimentary champagne. These people still couldn't get her dress right. This place was starting to annoy her, and if they weren't careful they were about to meet Victoria the Bridezilla.

“Let's try the a-line again…” said the attendant carefully

“No.”  said Victoria “The a-line swallowed my frame.”

“Perhaps the lace…”

“Too delicate.”

“The off-shoulder..”

“Distracting.”

The smile on the attendants face tightened subtly, as Victoria stepped down from the platform and walked directly toward the mirror wall examining herself from every angle. It was a powerful dress, with clean lines and a strong neckline but something was wrong.

She pivoted, some of the fabric shifted.

“There.“ she said, her jaw clenching, "If I turn like that it moves.”

“That's just the way satin behaves under tension.” the ascendant replied “It's not noticeable unless you're looking for it.”

“I am always looking for it.” Victoria replied sternly.

The silence lingered for a few seconds after that comment, Victoria looked at her Bombshell Internet Championship resting on a velvet chair with the rest of her belongings. She had set it there when she arrived as a reminder to them, and to herself of exactly who she was.

“If I lift my arms to hug someone does it crease?" asked Victoria.

“It's designed for movement.” replied the attendant in a patiently tested voice “Brides hug people.”

Victoria raised up both arms to experiment, the satin shifted and a ripple formed near her rib cage.

“There.” she said her jaw flexing “You saw that.”

“It relaxes back into place…” the attendant said

“It shouldn't have to relax.” Victoria cut in “It should obey.”

The attendant blinked as Victoria stepped down from the pedestal with the hem of the dress whispering across the polished floor. She walked closer to the mirror while expecting herself from every angle. She looked powerful and regal and the bodice framed her shoulders beautifully but something was wrong, and wrong was simply unacceptable.

She turned again and the fabric shifted.

“There, see.” she snapped “If I pivot like that it moves.”

“You won't be pivoting like that when you walk down the aisle.” the attendant said carefully

“You don't know that.” Victoria snapped back quickly.

She looked in the mirror again, the dress was just too traditional and too forgettable. She exhaled as though she was looking at an opponent in the mirror.

“You know what the problem is?” she said “It doesn't feel inevitable.”

“I'm sorry?” the attendant asked quietly tilting her head.

“When I walk down that aisle it needs to be inevitable.” Victoria said, "Like the conclusion of a story people have been watching for years. It needs to feel like dominance. I don't do pretty, I do definitive.”

“Perhaps you would be happy with something custom designed..” the attendance suggested.

“Custom?” Victoria questioned with a humorous laugh “You think this is about exclusivity? I don't care if it's one of one. I care if it commands a room, a wedding dress is meant to command.”

Silence.

“Just make it right.” she hissed at the attendant.

“Nothing will be right if you point out every tiny imperfection Ms Lyons.” said the attendant "I think this one really does suit you.”

“It's not right.” Victoria said sternly. “Take it off.”

The attendant didn't argue, there was no point. Victoria felt the satin go lucid and she was able to step into her regular clothes reassembling herself piece by piece.

“You know Ms Lyons.” said the attendant “Maybe today isn't the right day.”

“Excuse me?" said Victoria.

“I'm just saying maybe you need time to decide if you're choosing a wedding dress or proving something.” said the attendant.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Victoria said.

“You're searching for perfection like you're defending one of those championships.” the attendant said pointing to the Bombshell Internet Championship “But your wedding isn't a match to win.”

“Everything is a match.” snarled Victoria. “Go find a better one.”

The attendant shook her head.

“With all due respect Miss Lyons.” she said “I think you should come back another day.”

“You're asking me to leave?” Victoria said.

“I'm suggesting a reset for another day.” said the attendant.

“I don't reset.” said Victoria "I adapt.”

“Then I'm afraid we can't help you today.” the attendant replied keeping her composure

“Fine!” snapped Victoria, "You don't want my business then you don't deserve my business. Your dresses are trash anyway I'll just take my business elsewhere. Expect a bad review on Yelp.“

“Very well have a good day Miss Lyons and congratulations," said the attendant "I apologize we couldn't help you today.”

Victoria just rolled her eyes grabbed her belongings and walked to the door the attendant didn't stop her the door chime Softly As she stepped outside, her phone buzzed.

A promotional graphic for Blaze of Glory with her and Alexandra  Calaway on it. She laughed and looked at it with narrow eyes that people had the boutique might have made her leave,  but Calaway won't have that luxury at Blaze of Glory. After today she had some more anger and frustration to let out,  and unfortunately for Alexandra Calloway she was the next person in Victoria's way.

__________

The camera fades in slowly, the screen remaining black as soft piano music plays almost theatrical in its melancholy. As the image comes through, we see Darian Price sitting and playing a piano in what appears to be a chapel or a room dressed to resemble one.

The camera pans around the room to catch a casket with a picture of Alexandra Calaway framed on top of it, not a SCW promotional headshot, it looks like something stolen from her Instagram or X page where she's got her arm around LJ Kasey with a smile.

At the podium stands Victoria Lyons, dressed entirely in black with the Bombshell  Internet Championship resting over her shoulder like a sash of royalty. The piano fades as her eyes lower to the folded paper in her hands.

“My name…” she began softly “Is Victoria Lyons, and we are gathered here today to honor the life and impending death of Alexandra Calaway.”

She looks up letting her eyes meet the camera.

“I know it seems premature.” she continued “Alexandra is technically still breathing and competing, but that's only under the illusion that she walks out of Blaze of Glory as a champion, instead of it being the end for her.”

She tilts her head slightly.

“But some endings… deserve preparation.” she said. “I've known Alexandra Calaway for a while now. We've shared rings, we've shared spotlights and we've shared history. And to her credit, she's tried.”

A faint smile on her face.

“She won her crown the year after mine.” Victoria said “And it was a beautiful moment, but let's be honest she didn't take it from my hands or stand over my body. The truth that is undeniable is that whenever she and I share a ring, I win more than she does.”

There's no arrogance in her tone, just fact.

“Recently I suffered a loss.” Victoria said "Alicia Lukas caught me on a night when I was imperfect. But I assure that that will not happen again,  because my championship is on the line now and when something truly matters I do not fold.”

She pauses with a slight glance at the photo of Calaway on the casket.

“Alexandra Calaway walks into Blaze of Glory with a chance to validate herself.“ said Victoria “To stand across from me and prove that her crown wasn't just a footnote in mine. To prove that she cannot only beat me but take something from me and that she can do it without a distraction by somebody like that little whelp Harper Mason.”

She gently rests a hand on the casket lid.

“Unfortunately this isn't her validation.” she said “This is her elimination."

She lifts up the paper again.

“I wrote this eulogy because I want to be respectful, she deserves that much.” Victoria continued “She doesn't rattle easily and she's very resilient and disciplined. That's what really makes this tragic.”

She wipes an alligator tear from her eye.

“Alexandra believes that patience wins wars and that if she stands firm long enough, eventually I will make a mistake.” Victoria continued “But I don't make the same mistakes twice so Alexandra, if you're watching this I want you to understand that this isn't personal, this is historical.”

A small pause.

“And history remembers dominance.” Victoria continued “History does not remember second place. You are not walking into Blaze of Glory to dethrone me, you're walking into place of Glory to be archived.”

Exhale.

“Archived as someone who almost got Victoria Lyons.” she said “But almost doesn't survive. I respect the attempt and the discipline but respect alone will not win matches, respect only serves as a distraction and can delay you in the moment.”

A short pause.

“At Blaze of Glory…” she continued “Alexandra Calaway will step into the ring thinking composure is her armor and it's her time to ascend. But she will fall, and she will fall greatly and be no more than just a memory, a footnote in the record of my reign. Just as she is in the memory of my Bombshell Roulette Championship reign.”

Her mouth curves into a subtle smirk.

“At Blaze of Glory....” Victoria continued “Alexandra Calaway will be remembered as second place. The one who couldn't rise fast enough and couldn't survive the inevitable.  It's going to be a sad day at Blaze of Glory. We're all going to miss Alexandra Calloway but I'm afraid there's only room for one of us and our history favors me. Who I feel truly bad for are those closest to her.”

She wipes another alligator tear from her eye.

“Poor LJ Kasey is going to lose his fiancee.” Victoria said "No longer will he be part of the third best couple in the company behind myself and Darian, and Kasey and Carter. My dear cousin Alexander is going to lose a close friend, someone he considers more of a sibling than any other of his leech siblings.”

A short pause.

“We will remember Alexandra Calaway.” Victoria said “We'll remember her tenacity, and how she always brought the best out of her opponent. I assure you her memory will live on but at blaze of glory I will be walking out with this internet championship and remind everyone why Victoria Lyons is the champion and, Alexandra Calaway will always be the almost.”

She looks to the casket again as the camera zooms in closer on the picture of Calaway, the soft lyrics of Ave Maria play as the scene comes to an end.

#Wir schlafen sicher bis zum morgen
Ob menschen noch so grausam sind
Oh jungfrau, sieh der jungfrau sorgen
Oh mutter erhöre ein bittend kind
Ave Maria.#
9
Supercard Roleplays / Re: CRYSTAL ZDUNICH v MERCEDES VARGAS - JAPANESE DEATH MATCH
« Last post by Mercedes Vargas on February 28, 2026, 02:59:34 AM »
[At Blaze of Glory XIV, two legends meet not for titles, not for accolades — but for legacy.

Crystal Zdunich and Mercedes Vargas have walked the same roads, shared the same spotlight, the same hunger and even carved their names into the same era.

But time and pride have turned respect into resentment — and rivalry into warfare.

Crystal Zdunich — the artist, the showwoman, the eternal reinvention. Every era of her career has told a new story: the dreamer, the fighter, the champion, the survivor. She’s adapted when others broke, rebuilt herself when the world doubted, and stood tall in moments meant to break her spirit. Her legacy isn’t defined by championships — it’s defined by defiance, passion, and the refusal to ever fade quietly. She fights for validation, for family, and for her right to be remembered on her own terms.

Mercedes Vargas — the standard-bearer, the iron will, the unparalleled constant of dominance. She’s the measuring stick by which every other competitor has been judged. Year after year, reign after reign, she’s been the storm that others endure — if they’re lucky enough to survive at all. Her name commands respect through results, through pain, through legacy.

But Crystal has always been the one name she’s never conquered without scars, the one opponent who won’t bend, who won’t yield — who refuses to be conquered without leaving a mark.

And now, that mark becomes permanent.

At Blaze of Glory XIV, they meet with nothing left to lose and everything to define. Their feud has outgrown titles, accolades, and even reason. It is no longer about proving who is the best — it is about proving who will last.

Now, their war reaches its crescendo under the merciless rules of a Japanese Death Match - a battleground where skill meets brutality, and endurance becomes agony’s twin.

No disqualifications.
No limits.
No mercy.
No escape.

Just two women, one ring, and a thousand broken memories.

For Crystal, this is redemption — a chance to silence a decade of doubt and prove not only that she belongs among legends, but that she is one. For her, pain is temporary… legacy is eternal.

For Mercedes, it’s the reaffirmation of dominance — the final stroke in a masterpiece of destruction that’s stretched across generations. For her, the match isn’t about winning; it’s about erasing every question ever asked of her greatness.

At Blaze of Glory XIV, this isn’t just another match.

This isn’t rivalry anymore.
It’s finality.
It’s fury.

What happens when legacy meets hatred under unrelenting light? When two icons stare into eternity, knowing only one will remain standing? When survival becomes the only prize worth claiming?

This is their story’s final chapter… the defining moment that will echo far beyond the bruises, the glass, and the scars.

When the dust clears, and the mat runs red with the cost of greatness, only one name will endure, only one name will be etched in history.

The fallen will fade. The survivor will be immortal.

Crystal Zdunich. Mercedes Vargas.

Blaze of Glory XIV.

When the fire burns out — only legends remain.

~~~

Almighty Fire
semana del 22 de febrero al marzo de 1 de 2026

You know, experience teaches you things that flash and fame never will. The longer you survive in this business, the easier it is to see the line between confidence and desperation. And when someone’s desperate? You can tell. They start calling family for backup. They start pretending it’s about pride when really, it’s about fear.

Crystal Zdunich? She’s desperate. Every time she reinvents herself, she’s chasing something she already lost — relevance, credibility, maybe even a little dignity. She keeps moving because standing still would mean facing the truth: she peaked a long time ago.

I’ve seen her type. Stars that flash bright, burn fast, and vanish before they realize it’s over. But me? I’m not a flame that fades. Soy el fuego que permanece. I’m the fire that stays. I’ve outlasted eras, champions, and “next big things” so many times that people stopped counting. I’ve watched names rise on hype alone, and I’ve watched them crumble when they realize hype doesn’t keep you standing after the third decade. Hype rises, hype falls, but I’m still here.

Most people don’t get it. Survival isn’t about who shines the brightest — it’s about who keeps standing when the lights go out.

Crystal Zdunich is scared — of losing, of being forgotten, of facing me one-on-one with nowhere to hide.

So this past Sunday, she brought her family. Zenna. Seleana. Strength in numbers, right? That only works when the people you’re standing across from don’t bite harder. And the Metal Maniacs? Iron Maiden and Twisted Sister? They live for that fight. They don’t care about fame, they care about pain. Perfect partners, really.

Zenna, Seleana... I respect loyalty. But loyalty didn’t save you on Sunday. The Metal Maniacs didn't flinch. They didn't hesitate. And neither did I. Once the bell rang, emotion didn't matter. This was about control. Momentum. Message. El mensaje fue claro — no se juega conmigo.

Blaze of Glory XIV — a Japanese Death Match. I’ve fought in almost every kind of match you can name, but that one? That’s mine. When the ropes turn to barbed wire and the mat turns to glass, there’s no pretending anymore. That’s when truth shows up — when the pain strips everything else away. And the truth is, Crystal can’t endure what I can.

You can dress it up however you want, but the battlefield doesn’t lie. Every cut, every scar, every scream — they’ll speak louder than either of us ever could. Crystal wants to play the martyr? Then she’ll bleed for the part. Because when the truth and the punishment meet in that ring, everyone will see what I already know — she’s never been on my level, and she never will be.

I’ll make sure everyone remembers Blaze of Glory as the night her career ended — en dos idiomas, just to make sure her wife and sister‑in‑law get the message.

At Blaze of Glory XIV, in that Japanese Death Match, it won’t be lights, camera, action — it’ll be lights out for Crystal. When the smoke clears, Mercedes Vargas will be standing tall — just like always. Some people spend their whole careers trying to build a moment that defines them. Me? I build moments that end others. That’s the difference between history... and hype.

Sunday reminded her why I’m still the measuring stick in this company. At Blaze of Glory, I finish the story she keeps trying to rewrite. For months, she’s been chasing redemption like it’s a trophy, but redemption doesn’t come from hashtags or family photos. La redención se gana con sangre, no con filtros. It comes from surviving the kind of pain that makes you question everything you are — and she’s never been built for that level of truth.

Crystal, you should’ve stayed in your fairytale world — all glitz, glamour, and Instagram filters. But you dragged your wife and your sister-in-law into the fire because you wanted to “prove a point.” The only thing you’re proving is that you never learn. And when this is over, they’ll look at you not as a warrior, but as a warning.

I don’t need chaos to win — but I enjoy it. And this past Sunday at Climax Control, I savored every second of watching the Zdunich name crumble. That wasn’t a tag match — it was la antesala del infierno. The slow burn before the inferno.

Sunday was the preview. Blaze of Glory is the masterpiece. And when it’s over, the only star left shining will be me.

Prepare for the worst. Hope for the best. And may the odds be ever in your favor.

~~~

INT. THE FLOATING PENALTY BOX – MORNING

[The old boat‑restaurant sways gently on the tide. Sunlight cuts across scuffed decks, mismatched tables, and framed jerseys that double as décor. Sea salt glitters on the windows.

Behind the counter, Mercedes tapes her wrist, a veteran of rings and dinner rushes. Steam curls from the espresso machine — another relic clinging to service. She studies her reflection in the chrome surface, jaw set.

The door slams open. Hugo barrels in wearing a referee shirt and boundless enthusiasm.]

HUGO
Alright, team! Today’s the day. Brunch Bowl Finals. Our Super Sunday. Big crowd, big tips!

[Mercedes doesn’t look up.]

MERCEDES
You said that last week. And the week before. You really think mimosas count as a sport?

HUGO
Only when you serve them under pressure.

[He grins]

Hugo
Come on, Mercedes — meet me halfway. Spirits up, sleeves rolled, teamwork alive.

[She keeps wiping the counter, unimpressed.]

[Ricardo strides in, over‑dressed, lugging grocery bags like stage props.]

RICARDO
If brunch is a sport, we already lost the season. And why is there no champagne?

HUGO
Budget cuts. Orange juice and ambition only.

RICARDO
Barbaric.

[He drops the bags. Notices Mercedes taping her wrist.]

RICARDO
Tell me that’s not from the industrial mixer again.

MERCEDES
It’s nothing. Just old damage acting up.

HUGO
You sure you’re good for the shift? We’re gonna get slammed.

MERCEDES
I’ve wrestled worse than brunch.

[A beat — she starts retying the tape tighter.]

HUGO
Mercedes, you can’t skip out today. It’s the Brunch Bowl Finals!

MERCEDES
Finals of what, Hugo?

HUGO
Brunch — you know that.

MERCEDES
Good. Then you’ll survive overtime.
Got a call last night. Tampa needs a stand‑in. One night only.

HUGO
Wait — you’re bailing now? Brunch Bowl’s our busiest day.

[She softens slightly, but doesn’t look at him.]

MERCEDES
Yeah. Bills don’t wait, Hugo.

HUGO
Neither do customers.

[A tense, awkward silence hangs. Irma appears from the pantry, a streak of blue paint on her cheek and a half‑finished portrait in hand — Mercedes, heroic, wielding a frying pan like a championship belt.]

IRMA
You’re wrestling again?! That’s amazing! You’re still healing legends through piledrivers.

MERCEDES
It’s not amazing, Irma. It’s a favor. To a friend. And rent’s due.

RICARDO
Touché. Every great comeback starts with unpaid bills.

[Tomás trudges in, half‑awake, clutching yesterday’s coffee.]

TOMÁS
Miracle’s not that she’s wrestling again. It’s that this place still runs. That espresso machine’s living on prayer and duct tape.

[The espresso machine groans like an injured beast, metal stretching, wiring sizzling. Everyone turns.]

HUGO
Don’t you dare—

[Too late. The machine sputters, spits a jet of steam, and dies with one last hiss. Silence.]

RICARDO
Guess the miracle’s over.

HUGO
We can’t run brunch finals without caffeine!

MERCEDES
Perfect timing. I’m gone one day — maybe you’ll all figure out survival without me.

[She unclips her apron, tosses it onto a chair, and strides out with her old gym bag. The boat rocks harder as the door slams behind her.]

EXT. THE FLOATING PENALTY BOX – CONTINUOUS

[The weather‑beaten sign hangs above the gangway, its salvaged letters uneven, one bulb stubbornly flickering.

Mercedes pauses halfway down, glances back through the porthole where her crew argues over a mop. She allows a tired smile, then heads for the parking lot where the road meets her past.]

INT. THE FLOATING PENALTY BOX – LATER

[A motivational huddle circles the dead espresso machine like a doomed pep rally.]

IRMA
Okay, we can fix this. Bob Ross says there are no mistakes — only happy little accidents.

RICARDO
This one feels criminal. He never ran brunch in a sinking restaurant.

[Hugo paces with a clipboard in hand.]

HUGO
Mercedes abandoned us mid‑season. We adapt. We rebuild. Tomás, you’re interim barista.

[Tomás points to himself, incredulous.]

TOMÁS
I barely pour cereal. My résumé says “part‑time taste‑tester.”

HUGO
You’re promoted. Effective immediately.

RICARDO
So the blind leads the lazy. Excellent.

[Irma pokes at some wiring. The machine  wheezes, spits water, and sprays a jet of brown foam across Hugo’s shirt.]

IRMA
Look! It’s breathing!

HUGO
It’s hemorrhaging!

INT. SMALL WRESTLING VENUE – AFTERNOON

[Old gym lights hum. A faded banner reads FLORIDA SLAM FEST. Mercedes peers through the curtain at the crowd — smaller than she remembers, loyal as ever, just families and die‑hards. Faded posters of her glory days line the gym walls. The ring’s canvas looks roughly as patched as the restaurant’s deck. Her old entrance theme plays low over static speakers.

A promoter, mid‑50s, claps her on the shoulder.]

PROMOTER
Knew you’d come through. Folks still remember the Hammer Slam Queen.

[Mercedes forces a grin.]

MERCEDES
Yeah, well, the Hammer needs caffeine. My crew’s got that covered.

[He laughs, walks off. She looks down at her taped wrist, flexes. The sound of the crowd swells faintly. Her eyes flicker — pride mixed with hesitation.]

INT. THE FLOATING PENALTY BOX – SAME TIME

[The restaurant dissolves into chaos‑with‑heart. Ricardo quotes Shakespeare while Irma paints a hand‑made sign: OUT OF ORDER (BUT LIKE, IN A BEAUTIFUL WAY). Tomás balances on a stool, wrench in hand, clearly winging it.]

RICARDO
“All the world’s a stage,” and apparently ours leaks espresso.

[Hugo rallies everyone with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder like a coach’s cape.]

HUGO
We adapt! We overcome! Today, we serve iced coffee only — it’s strategic hydration.

[Tomás slips; boiling water splashes dangerously. Irma catches the cup before it hits the floor.]

IRMA
Teamwork!

[Hugo points to her dramatically.]

HUGO
That’s what the captain would say.

[They all share a proud, chaotic beat — then the generator flickers off. Silence. Only the water lapping against the hull.]

TOMÁS
So... brunch is cancelled.

INT. WRESTLING VENUE – LATER

[The match is over. Mercedes breathes hard, sweat and glitter mixed. She raises the rookie opponent’s hand for the crowd. Applause — small but sincere. She catches her face reflected in a trophy case backstage: older, softer around the eyes. She exhales, smiles faintly.

The promoter pats her shoulder.]

PROMOTER
You still got it, Hammer.

MERCEDES
Maybe. Or maybe I just trained someone else to hit harder.

[Her phone buzzes — a selfie from the crew, exhausted, smiling. All covered in espresso splatter and holding a sign that says, “WE WON (KINDA).”

Mercedes laughs quietly, thumb hovering over “Reply.”]

MERCEDES
Missed the finals, huh?

[She starts typing back.]

INT. THE FLOATING PENALTY BOX – NIGHT

[The espresso machine hums again, faint but alive. Mercedes steps in, duffel slung over one shoulder. The crew freezes mid‑cleanup like kids caught past curfew.]

MERCEDES
No fires?

[Silence.]

HUGO
Technically, steam counts as vapor, not smoke.

[She smirks, moves behind the counter, adjusts the steam knob.]

MERCEDES
You held the line. Proud of you.

[Hugo perks up.]

HUGO
Does that make me your tag‑team partner?

MERCEDES
Don’t push it.

[Irma hangs her finished portrait — Mercedes with one hand in the air, one on the espresso handle. Warrior in service apron. The whole crew stands back, admiring it under flickering light.

The boat rocks gently. The espresso machine hisses back to life, triumphant.]

RICARDO
For the record, that’s the best performance espresso’s ever given.

Mercedes
Or divine intervention.

IRMA
Nah. Just teamwork.

[FADE OUT.]

~~~

Present Day ♦ S A N T A M O N I C A • C A L I F O R N I A

[REC•]

Scene Location: Santa Monica Pier - West End

[The lens opens on a view of the Santa Monica Pier at golden hour, the late sun casting a warm glow over the Ferris wheel's slow spin and the endless Pacific waves crashing below. The camera glides across the pier's wooden planks, past colorful carnival lights flickering to life, slow drips of condensation sliding down untouched cocktails arranged in perfect symmetry on a seaside table. Mercedes Vargas sits alone at an edge-table overlooking the ocean horizon — immaculate, unapologetically calm. She wears white silk that catches the hour’s last flare, one knee crossed over the other. Her phone rests on the table, face down. She doesn’t look at it.

Only then does she glance into the camera.]

“You ever notice how people love to believe they made you?” her voice is steady, words shaped by poise. “They see your success, your calm, and they start whispering—She’s only here because of me."

[Her mouth curves—not quite a smile, closer to memory.]

"Crystal, that was your favorite song, wasn’t it? That you pulled my strings. That you knew the secret language to control me."

[The expression hardens, humor erased.]

“I let you believe that. Because letting you believe you mattered… was the most efficient way to keep you predictable. That’s the thing, Crystal—I don’t get angry. I don’t lose control. And I don’t need anyone’s permission to be the villain in their story.”

[Mercedes leans back in her chair, voice unhurried, every beat measured, the distant call of seagulls and roller coaster laughter underscoring her words.]

"People forget I've been in SCW 13 years straight—you're closing in on 12. Difference? I've watched flashes—even decorated ones—burn bright, fast, loud… then choke on their smoke."

[She raises the glass from the table, turning it slowly in her hand — white wine catching the light like liquid gold.]

“‘Japanese Death Match.’ They say it like it’s supposed to scare me. Like glass, barbed wire, or blood ever made me hesitate.”

[Her tone lowers.]

 “You hear death—I hear legacy.

“The difference between us is that you fight to prove you’re still relevant… and I fight because I already know I am.”

[The camera tightens on her face; the skyline balance fades behind.]

“You think I turned on your family out of spite? No, Crystal. I turned on you because you got comfortable. Because you started measuring yourself in pity—‘poor Crystal,’ the misunderstood starlet, the eternal victim of her own heart.

"What kind of champion cries in her own mirror? What kind of woman tells the world she’s strong, but still needs saving every time she falls apart?"

[Her eyes narrow slightly, voice softening only to twist with precision, a salty ocean breeze ruffling her hair.]

“You said I poisoned you against your wife, your sister-in-law. Cute. But I didn’t poison you—I just showed you what was always there. The cracks were in your reflection, not my voice.”

[She taps the rim of the glass gently — a single clear note.]

“I watched you crumble under your own performance, because that’s what you do. You perform. You bleed pretty, cry on cue, and call it growth. But growth is what happens after the breaking. You? You never heal. You recycle the same heartbreak, season after season.”

Her gaze drops to the wine for a moment, then back to the lens.

“And now—you want to turn this into war? Mamita, you couldn’t survive peace with me. What makes you think you’ll survive war?”

[Mercedes lowers the glass, leaning slightly forward. Her eyes sharpen without raising her voice.]

“The Japanese Death Match isn’t about weapons. It’s about will. About how much of yourself you can burn away and still rise with purpose.”

[Her tone cools, each word deliberate.]

“I’ve done that for years. Every time this company tried to bury me, I turned the dirt into armor. Every time someone wrote ‘Mercedes Vargas is done,’ I reminded them—I define done."

[Silence lingers, controlled and deliberate.]

“Meanwhile, Crystal Zdunich needs an audience,” Mercedes continues. “You need the drama—the hashtags, the tragedy filters, the crying selfies when the story stops going your way. Your whole career is built on the illusion that weakness equals empathy.”

[Mercedes gives a light, almost amused scoff.]

“You ever wonder why people stopped defending you? Because they’ve seen it too many times. Every partner becomes a villain. Every feud becomes personal. Every loss becomes a ‘lesson.’

“Except this one won’t.

“When this is over, there won’t be a redemption arc waiting for you. There won’t be a speech about fighting for your family. There’ll just be silence.”

[She sits back, eyes glinting against the reflection of the skyline lights beginning to flicker on.]

“You used to say I reminded you of who you wanted to be one day,”

[Mercedes says quietly.]

“Congratulations—you’ve arrived. You’re about to find out what it’s like to stand across from someone who doesn’t need to hate you to destroy you.

“I don’t hate you, Crystal. You’re not worth hate. Hate’s exhausting—it takes energy. And you don’t drain me, you bore me.”

[She exhales softly, tilting her head.]

“Perdóname,” but the moment you put your hands on what’s mine, you stopped being complicated and started being a liability. And the thing about liabilities? You cut them off. Cleanly. Efficiently.”

[Mercedes reaches for the phone. The screen brightens, revealing a photo of her and Crystal—smiling, victorious, championship gold draped across their shoulders. She studies it for a beat, then clicks it dark again and sets it down.]

“Do you remember this night? Of course you do. Every fake friend remembers their victories—it’s the losses they rewrite. You told me that night that we’d be ‘untouchable.’”

[She meets the camera squarely.]

“You were half-right. I am.”

[Mercedes’ tone lowers, Spanish threading through like a blade slid between ribs.]

“No todos los fantasmas son invisibles, Crystal. Algunos caminan contigo hasta que te cansas.”

“That means not every ghost is invisible. Some walk beside you until you’re tired. And when you finally try to let go… they drag you down with them.”

[Mercedes’ gaze fixes, unblinking.]

“You’ve been haunting me for too long, vieja amiga. And honestly—I’m bored of pretending your ghost still has teeth.”

[She inhales through her nose, setting the glass aside, movement deliberate and precise.]

“When that bell rings, I’ll give you something real to feel again. No theatrics. No tears. No ‘rebuilding story.’ Just consequence.

“Because someone has to remind you that there’s a difference between surviving the spotlight… and surviving me.”

[She straightens in her chair, gaze never leaving the camera.]

“When I walk out of Blaze of Glory, I won’t be Bloody Mercedes. I won’t be Scorned Mercedes. I’ll just be what I’ve always been—the woman who finishes what everyone else starts.”

[A quiet beat.]

“The glass breaks, the light fades, and still—I’m here. You? You vanish the moment the applause stops.”

[Finally, a sliver of a smirk finds her mouth, not warm, not kind, just amused.]

“See you at the end, Crystal. Bring your ghosts. I’ll bring absolution. Because in a Japanese Death Match, there’s no heaven left—only what I decide survives the fire.”

[Mercedes leans in close to the lens. The city lights reflect like small explosions across her pupils as she whispers—]

“No mercy, no fear… sólo destino.”

[The recording light blinks once, then cuts to black.]
10
Supercard Roleplays / “The Death of the Party!”
« Last post by Logan Hunter on February 27, 2026, 10:49:10 PM »
Logan lost the champion vs. champion match to HB Carter but not before Brooke slapped Tempest, who had been brought in as Carter’s countermeasure against Brooke, resulting in the youngest of the Shields Twins getting Powerbomned through the announce table! Now Logan had to deal with his first defence of the SCW Roulette Championship and it was seeing him defend against Ryan Keys! Can Logan get the win?

Medic’s office, Everett, Washington
Sunday the 15th of February 2026, 21:00pm

Tonight did not go as planned.

Brooke, my beloved future wife and current manager, was Powerbombed through the announcer’s table and now we are in the medic’s office as she is getting treated, meanwhile I lost the match against Carter and with the defence against Keys and the Fatal Four Way Ladder Match between Bill Barnhart, Zayvion Lyons, Ciaran Doyle, and Brayden Williams to determine my challenger after Keys looming?

I do not need this distraction!

”So Brooke, you trying to set a record or something?” Marissa asked with a smug grin on her face as her younger sister lay on the bed in pain. ”Like Speedrun the “Holy Shit/WTF Moment of the Year Award any %?” because I can’t think of any other reason why you’d slap Tempest!”

”Shut the fuck up Marissa!” Brooke groaned as me and her older sister watched on. ”I was doing my job when that bitch attacked me! That slap was self-defence!”

”You call slapping a woman who’s as tall as Logan and as strong as an ox Self-Defence?!” Marissa asked incredulously as she shook her head. ”What’s your follow up going to be? Getting angry at a driver for running you over while jaywalking?!”

”Can you not rub this in so much?!” Brooke protested as the medic checked on her. ”Your twin sister is in pain after being run over by a human tank and you’re mocking me?! Mari, we’ve literally know each other our whole lives, we were in mom’s womb together for fuck’s sake!”

”Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean I can’t call you out for stupid decisions Brooke! And tonight was especially stupid!” Marissa added as she walked closer to her sister’s hospital bed. ”YOU SLAPPED TEMPEST! Even setting aside that the follow up cost Logan the match against Carter, I’m going to rub that in so hard that you’ll think it’s one of your OnlyFans vids!”

Even I had to bite back laughter at that and he medic nearly choked on his spit. ”Okay first off: I don’t do that stepmom/dad/bro shit when I’m filming porn! It’s too weird! Second, eww! And third why was THAT the first thing you said?!”

”Because you make yourself such an easy target whenever you do stuff like that!” Marissa countered not realizing that a certain older woman heard her. ”So get used to…………….”

“That was a lovely sentence to hear out of context Marissa!” Evelynn cut in and everyone in the medic’s office suddenly turned to her. “Please, continue to describe your ability to rub things in!”

”I’ll pass.” Marissa responded dryly as she turned to the older woman. ”Is thus about Blaze of Glory or did you just happen to be wondering by.”

“Both, Logan? Your match against Ryan us set, try not to chase off another wrestler.” Evelynn told me and I simply nodded. “And Brooke? Tempest won’t be punished!”

”LIKE HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Brooke snapped as she sat up abruptly forgetting for a moment that she was in pain. ”I WAS DOING NOTHING WRONG! TEMPEST WAS AT FAULT!”

“My decision is final.” Evelynn added as she turned to leave. “See you three at Fort Worth for Blaze of Glory.”

Evelynn left before Brooke could say another word. ”Fucking ridiculous! Hey, can I go or not?” Brooke demanded as she turned to the medic. ”Well?!”

“Err, you can go.” The medic added and we left the medic’s room and the arena for the hotel.

Logan and Brooke’s home, Las Vegas, Nevada
Wednesday the 25th of February 2026, 14:00pm

Needless to say? Tempest’s attack on Brooke has left her in no condition to help me train aside from spotting for me while I bench press, and since Marissa is the only resident of the house who doesn’t have wrestling training? This is far from ideal.

”We will worry about Brooke’s condition later.” I insisted as I motioned to Brooke and the two women nodded, Marissa was sitting on the couch stroking Sir Pursalot as the Maine Coon Cat sat in her lap, meanwhile the Irish Wolfhound Aolfie lay at Brooke’s feet. ”Right now we need to put the Tempest situation behind us and focus on the defence against Keys!”

”Didn’t realize that being the Roulette Champion came with the power to state the obvious.” Marissa commented as she rolled her eyes. ”What about the Fatal Four Way Ladder Match between Brayden, Zayvion, Bill, and Ciaran? If you retrain against Ryan than the winner of that match is next ln line, presumably at Into the Void.”

”I will worry about that after Blaze of Glory! Frankly? I don’t see Barnhart or Williams winning..” I stated as I folded my arms. ”Zayvion was robbed against Alex, he’ll be motivated Brayden hasn’t done much of relevance since he came back.”

”And they have to be desperate to book those losers in this match.” Brooke added as she leaned back. ”As for my injuries? PUH-LEASE! I feel more sore than this after the average shoot with a guy!”

”And you called me gross for the OnlyFans joke.” Marissa muttered as she shook her head. [color=#ff0000”And the medic did say take it easy!”[/color]

”Err, duh, what do you think I’ve been doing over the past few days!” Brooke added with a satisfied grin. ”You let me worry about that, I know what I’m doing.”

”And that’s what worries me most.” Marissa muttered before the conversation drifted off.

Logan and Brooke’s Home Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Wednesday the 25th of February 2026, 21:00pm

*promo time*

Just because Brooke can’t train with me doesn’t mean we can’t use the space.

”The time has finally arrived, my first defence of the Roulette Title, the first defence of my true reign and the poor unfortunate soul that has been offered up to me is Ryan Keys!” I scoffed as I folded my arms. ”Ryan, you’re the Life of the Party in SCW, the fun loving wrestler beloved by the cretins that make up our audience, well, let’s get one thing straight.

I am the Death of he Party.” I declared as I smirked at the camera. ”I have left many broken bodies in my wake Ryan and you are the one who is brave enough to step up and challenge me? You see it as an opportunity, I see it as your death warrant!”

Despite still being sore from Tempest’s attack Brooke still chimed in.

”You can count yourself lucky Ryan that I was BRUTALLY ATTACKED IN A TOTALLY UNPROVOKED MANNER by Tempest last Sunday Night at Climax Control!” Brooke declared as she glared at the camera. ”Why? Because I won’t be able to perform my regular duties for Legan as a direct result and the fact that Evelynn refuses to punish her makes it worse!

Then again? It’s been me and Logan against the higher ups since day one!” Brooke added as she folded her arms. ”In case it wasn’t obvious? We didn’t come to SCW to make friends, we came to SCW to dominate and you will be no different Ryan! Trust me, when Logan is done with you a hangover will be the least of your worries!”

Indeed.

”If this is how I demonstrate that I chose to have Brooke help me? So be it!” I added as I paced around the ring. ”She is more than just my girlfriend, she is my soul mate, my muse, my guide, my judas!”

”Err, I’m pretty sure that’s not a good thing to call your girlfriend Logan!” Marissa chimed in and we turned to her as she filmed he promo. ”Just saying!”

”I KNOW WHAT I SAID! And Ryan? You will wish you had never returned to SCW to begin with when the dust settles on my first of many defences,” I said as I held up the title. ”For it is my Divine Rite of Kings to reign eternal and some party boy will never stop me, with or without Brooke’s help!”

It’s that simple.

”After all, after a year of waiting to get back what was stolen from me I will not and shall not relinquish this title from my hands so easy!” I added as I made a slit throat motion with my thumb. ”And at Blaze of Glory XV? You will suffer for your hubris,”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”I am the future of this company and I will drag it into the modern day! Kicking and screaming, you will not last.” I said as I walked up to the ropes. ”After all, I beat you once and I’ll certainly do it again, woe to the vanquished, for the lives of fools brave enough to step up shall never be mourned! Ryan? I COMMAND THEE KNEEL! YOU WILL NEVER CLAIM MY THRONE! And as the sun sets on my first defence? Ryan will embrace oblivion!”

Marissa turned odd the camera as the scene fades.
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