Blog: Almighty Fire
semana del 21 de 28 septiembre de 2025

Hola, mis amores.

Violent Conduct was supposed to be the night it all came crashing down, right? Headlines said it. Prediction polls said it. Experts screamed it. Lilith Lock and Diamond Steele were going to take my championship and “prove” Mercedes Vargas was past her prime. And yet, here we are. Same stage. Same spotlight. Same champion. Me.

You can dress it up however you like.  Lilith fizzled, Diamond flopped. SCW loves throwing me these projects, but I have to ask… how many more ‘next big things’ do I have to demolish before we all accept the obvious?

You know the scene well because you’ve seen it play out time and time again, with me at the center of it all. There’s something magnetic about my name showing up in “Main Event” billing, isn’t there? Mercedes Vargas practically screams box office guarantee. And now, once again, Sin City Wrestling comes calling on me, the standard bearer, to close out the night, raise the bar, and—let’s be honest—save the show.

I know, I know. Some of you are tired of seeing me with this Bombshell Internet Championship draped across my shoulder or strapped around my waist. Believe me when I say: nobody is as tired of winning as I am. It’s exhausting, truly. Having to constantly elevate opponents who could barely lace my boots, only for them to cry robbery when I pin them anyway. Championship defenses have become my charity work.

And speaking of charity cases, let’s talk Diamond Steele.

The “Rockstar Goddess.” The woman who really believes her hype is bigger than her résumés, plural, because she’s dusted off so many personas I lost track around gimmick number six. I’d say she was a chameleon if the problem wasn’t so obvious: chameleons adapt. Diamond just… clings. Clings to every opportunity, every spotlight, every passing second where the crowd doesn’t yawn at her entrance. But I’ll give her this—she screams really loud while clinging. Her career is like her accent—unpolished, overdone, and impossible to take seriously.

Now, I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I appreciate General Manager Evelyn Hall doing her job and all. Granting title matches, keeping order, making sure SCW remains the brand the rest of the wrestling world copies but can’t quite match—applause all around.

But could we at least pretend, just this once, that Diamond Steele earned something the right way? This is the rematch nobody asked for. At Violent Conduct, I already beat her. Correction: I beat both challengers, but as fate would have it, I pinned the other woman in our triple threat. Cue Diamond’s meltdown—a complete Broadway-level production about how she “never lost” because she wasn’t the one staring up at the lights.

Here’s the thing, mamita. Triple threats don’t work like that. You had your chance. You had more than your chance. Second place is the first loser. ¿me entiendes? If you were really as desperate to win as you keep screaming into microphones, maybe you should have been better. But no, your fallback plan is the same tired strategy: whine until management throws you a pity title match.

Congratulations, Diamond—you whined your way into another chance. Too bad it’s the closest you’ll get to any championship again. Enjoy it. Savor it. Because come Sunday night, you're mine little girl.

Which brings us to the stipulation: the Gemstones barred from ringside.

Oh, how tragic. How will Diamond cope without her little backup singers? No harmonized pep talk? No clapping at ringside whenever she kicks out of a two-count? No distraction finish where someone jumps on the apron while Diamond “accidentally” hits her big move and capitalizes?

Forgive me, but wasn’t Diamond supposed to be this empowered “rock goddess” who didn’t need anyone? You know… an original diva? What does it say about your wrestling legacy if management had to call in security just to make sure you play fair?

Me? I don’t need goons, bodyguards, or entourages. I don’t outsource victories. When I hold up my championship after the final bell, it’s because I earned it. Alone. Every single reign, every single defense, every single historic run I’ve cemented in SCW? All Mercedes Vargas, all day. Meanwhile, Diamond needs backup the way most people need fashion advice.

Spoiler: one of us clearly doesn’t.

Let’s talk imagery for a moment. Diamond Steele. The name alone sounds like a contradiction. Hard on the outside, soft in performance. Expensive brand name, cheap results. She insists she’s sparkling—yet I can’t count the number of times she’s dimmed the place rather than lit it up. Honestly, the only thing diamond about her is the way she scratches and claws for attention.

And while we’re on contradictions, can we address how she styles herself a “legend”? A legend in what domain, exactly? Karaoke? Gimmick recycling? Chronically posting that she would have been champion if only things went differently that one time? Legends aren’t people who keep telling you they’re legends. They’re the ones who show up, do the work, and are undeniable.

Much like myself.

I don’t slap “legend” on a t-shirt. I don’t scream “icon” into a camera until the cameraman’s ears bleed. I live it. Record-breaking reigns. Consistency. Respect, even from the people who can’t stand me. Now compare that with Diamond—a woman who’s just loud enough to trick people into thinking she’s relevant a little longer.

If Mercedes Vargas is timeless, Diamond Steele is seasonal. And I think Winter left her behind a long time ago.

You know what really separates us? Legacy.

I walk into every arena carrying more than just this Bombshell Internet Championship. I carry the weight of history, of expectations, of excellence. People look at me and expect greatness—and then I deliver, over and over again. Mercedes Vargas, the woman synonymous with longevity and dominance in Bombshell history.

Meanwhile, Diamond walks into the arena carrying… flyers for her next failed band gig.

There’s a reason management keeps putting Mercedes Vargas in these main events. There’s a reason my name is always attached to championship lineage. Because I’ve cemented my place whether my opponents want to admit it or not. Win or lose, I’m the conversation. Diamond has to beg to be involved in it. And even then, it’s usually out of pity.

Let me make this perfectly clear, just in case anyone missed the point:

Diamond is only in this match because she complained enough. She hasn’t earned it, doesn’t deserve it, and without her Gemstones, she’s exposed for what she is: one-dimensional.

I don't need gimmicks or ring rats to validate my greatness. The proof is already in the record books.

And, sweetheart, subtlety is an art form. Consider this little blog not so much a reading as it is a styling. The messy split ends of Diamond’s career need trimming, and I always bring the sharpest scissors.

Here’s your spoiler for Climax Control: Diamond will march to the ring, basking in an applause that’s equal parts pity and déjà vu. She’ll spin around on the ramp, point to the crowd, maybe even try to start a “let’s go Diamond!” chant so she can feel important. She’ll talk big about how this is “her night” and how she’s finally ready to “take what she deserves.” Cute.

Meanwhile, I’ll do what I always do. I’ll out-think her. I’ll out-wrestle her. I’ll make her look better than she actually is. I’ll strip away whatever illusion of greatness she tries to hide behind, because that’s the Vargas way. And then I’ll do what Diamond has nightmares about: I’ll beat her clean, center of the ring, 1-2-3.

No excuses, no controversies.

Then, once again, Mercedes Vargas walks out Bombshell Internet Champion. Because that’s the natural order of things. History won’t remember this as Diamond’s big moment—it’ll be remembered as another Mercedes Vargas defense. Another night challengers failed to reach the crown.

So, Diamond, practice your entrances, pose for the crowd, soak it in. Soak it all in, mamita. Because when the bell rings, you’re going to face reality. And reality is spelled M-E-R-C-E-D-E-S V-A-R-G-A-S.

Your Bombshell Internet Champion,
Mercedes Vargas.

Siempre vencedora.

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


INT. LITTLE HAVANA – EVENING –

[The evening hum of Little Havana buzzed with music, laughter, and neon light. Mercedes Vargas sat outside a café on Calle Ocho, her Bombshell Internet Championship propped against the chair. A cafecito rested between her fingers. Crystal Caldwell arrived, carrying Christian’s lecture like a stormcloud but masking it beneath oversized sunglasses and a Hollywood smile. She sat opposite Mercedes, removing the shades with a flourish and dropping them onto the table. In her hand was a plate of pastelitos, steam curling into the night air.]

CRYSTAL
Can you believe him? Christian. Acting like we’re the bad guys? We’re the reason people even watch—and yet now we’re villains because we dared to stand up for ourselves?

[Mercedes smirks—the belt shifting on her chair as she leans back.]

MERCEDES
Exactly. Christian should be thanking us. We bring class, gold, and professionalism—well, when people don’t try to step in our spotlight. Instead, he’s lecturing us like children. He should be kissing our Hall of Fame rings.

CRYSTAL
And the nerve of him, trying to make me feel guilty about Seleana. Seleana. Like I don’t know my own wife. She knows exactly what business she signed up for.

[Crystal slams her pastelito down, powdered sugar scattering like stage dust. Her frustration is real but played big—Hollywood melodrama that mirrors her "actress" persona.]

CRYSTAL (near breaking)
And then Zenna—of all people!—grabs me like I’m some extra in her little debut? La odio. Not even signed here, and she tries humiliating me? She’s lucky Christian’s spineless, because next time, she won’t walk away.

[The glow of the sunset stained the sky in warm pastels as Mercedes stirs her cafecito with deliberate calm.]

MERCEDES
Zenna made her first mistake stepping down to that ring.

CRYSTAL
That’s right. She better enjoy her little cameo. If Christian won’t sign her, then she’s just handing herself to us the next time she shows her face

[Mercedes sets her cup down—deliberate. She leans in with surgical calm.]

MERCEDES
We didn’t become champions in multiple companies by shrinking back. We shut people like them down every time. Seleana and Zenna together? They don’t scare me. They don’t scare us. If anything, they just signed up for their own funeral.

CRYSTAL
Well, look at us. Survivors. You walk out of Violent Conduct with that shiny toy still on your shoulder, and I… walk out with my wife pinning me clean in the middle of the ring. Not exactly the Hollywood ending I dreamed up.

[Mercedes smirked faintly, lifting her cup of coffee.]

MERCEDES
Survivors? I’d say one of us has a better word. Winners. Victors. Campeonas. That’s me, Crystal. You? Well, it’s complicated, isn’t it?

[Crystal scoffed, biting into her pastelito a little harder than necessary.]

CRYSTAL
Don’t remind me. Everyone was expecting you to finally lose, too. Lilith Locke, Diamond Steele—they all thought you were done. Hell, some of them probably had tweets pre-drafted for the exact moment you hit the mat. Yet here you are.

[Mercedes chuckled, leaning back in her chair, her tone smooth but cutting.]

MERCEDES
Here I am. Still champion. Still headline. Lilith couldn’t cash in on the hype if her life depended on it. And Diamond? She’s been trying to make herself look relevant longer than I’ve been wearing gold. Violent Conduct was supposed to crown a new era… instead, I added another chapter to my legacy.

[From the nearby domino tables, an abuelo slammed a tile with triumph, shouting “¡Capicú!” while the rest groaned in frustration. Mercedes raised her cafecito in a mock toast before returning her gaze to Crystal.]

MERCEDES
Too bad you couldn’t even book the fairytale ending. You lost to your wife. That’s not just a headline—it’s a soap opera. And you of all people should understand how that plays on screen.

[Crystal narrowed her eyes but muttered through another bite, muffling her words.]

CRYSTAL
So yeah, I lost. But I don’t break, Mercedes. I rebuild. And when I come back? Telenovela or not—it’ll be my rewrite, not yours. And trust me, Mercedes, I never die in a sequel.

MERCEDES
Spoken like someone who doesn’t know when the curtain’s already down.

[Crystal leaned back in her chair, one eyebrow raised.]

CRYSTAL
Says the woman everybody counted out—and then who proved ‘em all wrong. Don’t act too high and mighty. If you can keep rewriting your story, maybe I can too.

[Mercedes set her cup down, her expression sharpening under the Miami glow.]

MERCEDES
Difference is, Crystal, I didn’t just rewrite my story—I owned it. I made sure nobody else held the pen. That’s why I’m sitting here with a championship, and you’re sitting here with excuses.

[For a moment, the rhythm of salsa music filled the pause between them. Crystal finished off her pastelito and sighed, her bravado giving way to something quieter.

Crystal looks away first. Not weakness, but weariness. She toys with her pastelito, then exhales, voice low now.]

CRYSTAL
You don’t ever get worn down, Mercedes? Always being the one with a target on your back? Carrying all of it?

[Mercedes smirks, but her eyes lower just for a second to the championship draped across the chair, a shadow of weight behind the gold. She lingers a moment too long before snapping her gaze back to Crystal with that trademark calm.]

MERCEDES
Tired? Always. That's the cost.

[Mercedes draped the title back across her shoulder with casual precision before glancing at Crystal with her trademark smirk.]

MERCEDES
So eat your pastelitos, cry about your telenovela marriage storyline, and hope for that sequel. Me? I’ll still be the one headlining, still holding gold, still reminding everyone that I’m siempre vencedora.

[Crystal forces a smile—half admiration, half bitterness. She raises her pastelito like a toast.]

CRYSTAL
Fire & Fury forever.

[Mercedes smirks, tapping her cafecito against the pastry.]

MERCEDES
Forever. And if anyone forgets? They’ll burn.

[The camera lingered on them for a moment—the battered but unbowed Crystal Caldwell across from the reigning champion Mercedes Vargas. The clash of loss and legacy. Little Havana rattled with music and life around them, but the unspoken line was clear: one’s chapter felt closed, while another’s story kept writing itself.]

[END]

Present Day ♦L O S A N G E L E S • C A L I F O R N I A

[REC•]

[The screen cuts in from static to a bright, vibrant shot of The Paul Smith Rainbow Wall, its bold wide stripes of colors shining under the California sun. Mercedes Vargas stands directly in front of the wall, the SCW Bombshell Internet Championship draped across her shoulder. She adopts a poised, commanding stance, her presence as bold as the wall behind her.]

“How do you like me now, SCW…”

[Mercedes adjusts the Bombshell Roulette Championship gracefully, tilting the plate so it catches the light before draping it over her shoulder with an effortless smirk.]

“They all swore Violent Conduct was going to be my undoing. They said I was walking into the lion’s den, that Lilith Locke and Diamond Steele were destined to rip this championship from me. That’s what the whispers, the chatter, the breakdowns, the odds were about. Everyone counting me out, waiting for my fall.

"But isn’t it funny how the story always ends the same? With me, standing right here, still the champion. And them? Still talking. Still wishing. Still failing. In fact, the only thing faster than my victories… is how quickly they’ll vanish from relevance once the spotlight isn’t handed to them. Because unlike them, I don’t just show up—I last. And that’s why this championship stays with me.”

[She pats the title like it’s an accessory to her legacy, flashing one last smirk before adjusting the belt slightly higher on her shoulder.]

"But let's get this back to where it should be: Climax Control 436. The main event. Once again, Diamond Steele tries her luck."

[Mercedes drops the belt on her shoulder with precise confidence, the colors of the wall merging into the reflection of the gold plate.]

"People love to say diamonds are forever. What they forget is diamonds chip. Diamonds shatter. And over time, diamonds lose their shine. Diamond Steele? She proves that week after week: loud voice, cheap sparkle, no staying power."

[She tilts the belt slightly upward with her hand, letting the gold catch the light. A faint chuckle escapes before she shakes her head.]

"The truth is that a diamond only has value in jewelry. In the ring, against someone like me? Worthless."

[Her eyes narrow. She points delicately toward the lens as if addressing Diamond directly.]

"After Violent Conduct, you cried, “I didn’t lose because I wasn’t pinned!” Ay, Dios mío, how many times do we have to hear it? Mamita, you were in the match. You had the chance. You failed. End of story. Triple threats don’t come with excuses, Diamond. That you still cling to this proves you’ll never be on my level.

"You want to be champion? Entonces lucha como campeona. Fight like one. Don’t whine like one of your Gemstones forgot their lyrics.”

[Her smirk returns, wider this time—mock amusement.]

"And speaking of the Gemstones—barred from ringside. Gracias a Dios. Finally, no off-key backup singers ruining my performance. This isn’t a garage band, this is Sin City Wrestling. You want a chorus? Go book open karaoke night."

[Mercedes raises a brow, tilts her head slightly, lifting her chin with elegance. Her tone hardens.]

"No backup, no distractions. Just you, me, and the undeniable truth: alone, Diamond Steele is nothing."

[Her tone lowers, deliberate. She touches the belt with both hands, squeezing it briefly, like an emphasis on legacy.]

"Mientras tanto, look at me. Mercedes Vargas, la eterna campeona. The walking legacy of this company. When I say I’m decorated, it’s because I put in work, match after match, year after year. I keep showing up, I keep winning, and I keep proving why I’m untouchable.

Meanwhile, you strut around pretending to be iconic without ever earning it. Newsflash, mamita: calling yourself ‘legendary’ doesn’t make it true. Legends don’t announce it—they prove it. Yo no hablo de ser campeona. Yo lo soy."

[She lifts her finger and waves it slowly, deliberately, at the camera as if correcting a child. Her smirk twists into a sharper sneer.]

"And while we’re here, let’s address the elephant in the room: tu estilo, chica. Diamonds may sparkle, but you? You’re cubic zirconia. Loud colors, glitter everywhere, Hot Topic sequins that scream ‘try hard.’ Me? I am class. Timeless. Effortless. You? Still stuck in 2009, begging people to call you edgy. Ándale, chica. Evolution is mandatory."

[Mercedes drapes the Bombshell Internet Championship over her forearm. She begins pacing with calm, measured steps, owning the frame.]

"So let’s talk about Sunday. You’ll do your spinning routine, shout “rock goddess” like anyone believes it, play to the crowd with your wannabe rebel attitude… and then the bell rings. That’s when it falls apart. The illusion dies, reality sets in. Mercedes Vargas rises. Diamond Steele falls.

No Gemstones. No distractions. No escape."

[She stops pacing, centers herself directly to the camera, the belt raised slightly now at chest level, gleaming under the sunlight. Her tone shifts, smooth, cutting, almost final.]

"In the end, cariño, you’ll walk away talking about how “next time things will be different,” while I stand tall, Bombshell Internet Championship in hand, adding another victory to my list. Escrito en piedra. History doesn’t remember excuses. History remembers winners."

[Mercedes lets out a measured laugh as she adjusts the belt on her shoulder before leaning closer to the camera. Her eyes narrow again, sharp and piercing.]

"And Diamond, history already knows my name. Not whispered. Not forgotten. My name se grita en voz alta—it’s shouted. Mercedes Vargas isn’t just booked. Yo soy el espectáculo. I am the show, the main event, the pulse of this division."

[Her voice drops lower, almost whispering directly to Diamond through the lens, pulling the viewer in tight.]

"You live in fantasies, Diamond. Fantasies where you’re special, celebrated, legendary. But fantasies end when the alarm clock goes off. On Sunday, that alarm will be me. That bell will sound, and reality will hit harder than any slap I ever could.

"Reality says you fold under pressure. Reality says talk is all you have. Reality says your reigns don’t last. Diamonds may be forever, but you? You’re already cracked."

[Mercedes takes a step closer toward the camera now, the lens subtly adjusting upward into a low-angle, giving her a commanding presence. She steadies the title belt across her shoulder, then slowly drags her fingertips across the faceplate, tracing the golden edge. Her smirk fades into a sharp, cold seriousness.]

"Cracks can be polished or hidden, but they never disappear. They only grow bigger until the whole stone shatters. Eso es tu destino"

[Mercedes lets her hand fall from the faceplate, then lifts the championship belt fully off her shoulder with both hands. She holds it up at eye level, staring into the gold for a moment before turning it outward, presenting it directly to the camera like a mirror. Her expression remains cold, serious.]

"This? This is the standard. This is proof that when you face me, you’re facing the bar no one else can clear. And before you even step into that ring, Diamond, I want you to look at this title and understand: it isn’t yours. It’s never been yours. And after Sunday? It still won’t be."

[Mercedes slowly lowers the belt again, draping it carefully back onto her shoulder with precision—almost ritualistic, as if placing a crown back where it belongs. She steps closer, closing the gap between herself and the lens until her presence dominates the frame. Her voice steadies into a deliberate whisper.]

"Long before you knew, and long after you'll remember."

[She tilts her head back slightly, her smirk returning at last—measured, confident, untouchable—as the rainbow wall colors fade softly behind her before the feed snaps back to static.]

***Fade***

BILL:  I know I haven't been performing as well as I wanted to recently but there were a lot of distractions due to our former friend, Felix Hernandez, getting himself into the business of myself and Bea. However with Felix gone and in retirement me and Bea wanted to present our comments on what we want to accomplish during the last part of 2025. You go first Bea.

BEA:  As most people know I want to earn the Hardcore Championship since Bill has held the Hardcore Championship twice. I would like to have some one-on-one matches with the Hardcore Championship on the line. However if Management wants to put me up for the other Championships, including the Bombshell Championship, that would be fine with me. I will do my best and hopefully exit the ring crowned as the Champion.

BILL:  For me a challenge for any of the Championships would be fine with me and I will leave that decision to Management to decide. Working in Sin City Wrestling is, in itself, is enough to excite me to remain in wrestling and give the fans what they are looking for.

BEA:  Now we sit back and wait to see what is next for the both of us. Stay tuned.

Early Mornings In Vegas
LJs Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada

The sun had started to brush through the windows of LJ’s bedroom. Bathing Alexandra in the warmth of the morning sunlight, she rolled over and kissed LJ’s head, before slipping from the bed. Slipping into her slippers and wrapping a robe around her body she made her way to the kitchen. She had slipped out the day before to grab some groceries, wanting to have a full breakfast prepared for them before they headed out.  LJ to Law School and Ash to her first day at The Meadows School. Getting to work she quickly made them breakfast and before she could finish plating the food, she felt an arm slip around her waist. 

“Good morning Angel,” LJ’s lips brushed across her jawline and she turned slightly to look up at him.

“Good morning darling,” Alexandra laughed and leaned against him. “Breakfast is almost ready and I’m sure Ash will be down soon.”

“I smell bacon,” came a voice from behind her.  Ashlynn padded into the room, a book bag slung over her shoulder, which was quickly discarded on the floor.

“I took the liberty of making you guys some breakfast. I know it’s not always this big of a thing, but I wanted to do something nice for you both.” A bright smile crossed Alexandra’s face.

Alexandra finished plating their food and putting it on the island counter so that they could eat. She watched as Ashlynn poured herself some juice and sat it down next to her food and sat down. Alexandra handed LJ a cup of coffee and sat down to join them.

Ashlynn dug into her bacon with a grin. “You spoil me mom. Most mornings, I’m lucky if I grab a granola bar before running out the door.”

Alexandra arched her brow. “That’s exactly why I wanted to slow things down today. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately, homework, SAT prep.”

“Don’t forget late night FaceTiming with her friends,” LJ teased, earning a dramatic sigh from Ashlynn.

“Seriously, Mom, Da" she quickly catches herself. "LJ,” she said, trying to hide the almost slip up, hoping he hadn’t caught it. Her tone was more playful than defensive. “Junior year’s no joke. Half the time it feels like every teacher thinks their class is the only one I have.”

Alexandra reached across and touched her daughter’s hand. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re managing it beautifully. You just have to remember to take care of yourself in between all of it.”

Ashlynn softened at that, her smile less guarded. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll survive. It’s just,” a sigh escaped her lips “a lot.”

Alexandra looked over at LJ, noticing his interest in the conversation. She knew Ashlynn liked having LJ around someone else to be the buffer between them sometimes. It also helped to have a second person around in moments like this.

LJ nodded, sipping his coffee. “That’s what this home is for, to be your place to breathe when the world feels like too much. I want you to feel comfortable here. It’s your home too.”

For a moment, Ashlynn let the words sink in before returning to her plate. The hum of everyday life, the scrape of chairs, the clink of silverware, the smell of coffee and bacon, settled over them like a comfort they didn’t take for granted. They all finished their meal and Alexandra moved over to take the plates to the sink, getting everything ready to clean up.

Ashlynn grabbed her bag and made her way over to her mother kissing her cheek. “I need to go now if I plan on catching my bus. The Meadows School waits for no one.”

“Have a good day sweetheart and be safe,” Alexandra smiled a little. The fear of her daughter alone in a new city still crept over her.

“Mom, it’s not that far, I’ll be fine,” with that Ashlynn was gone for the door before another word could be said.

“That’s my cue as well. I need to get to the campus.” LJ stood and moved towards Alexandra, turning her away from the sink and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. “Have a good day Angel and don’t work too hard. We got the show this weekend.”

“I won’t” Alexandra nodded and tried so hard to not let go of him. “I’d tell you not to work hard, but it’s law school.” A chuckle left her lips.

“I’ll be home before you know it.” he pulled away and put his blazer on, before kissing her again a bit longer this time. “I love you, Alexandra.”

“I love you too LJ,” she watched as he smiled and pulled away, disappearing out the door.

Turning back to the sink she takes her time to clean the dishes, making sure to get everything handled up and put away, before moving to look at the articles for the show. She knew nothing of her opponents and yet she didn’t fear the unknown. She trusted what she and LJ could do together in that ring; they had proven it against Logan and Brooke as well as against Justin Smith and Song. Anthrax and Twisted Sister may be a different breed altogether but still nothing to fear.

---

Barbed Wire and Roses
Lost Weekend Staircase
Miami Beach, Florida

The flight to Miami from Las Vegas hadn’t been hard on them at all. Finding their hotel rooms, the two headed out for Alexandra’s filming place. Lost Weekend club, after speaking with the manager for about thirty minutes, they had access to the club before hours. The camera was set up and there was no time left to waste.

“Let’s do this,” Alexandra looked up at LJ with a smile.

“Right behind you Angel, this is your time.”

Alexandra sat down on the step, on the step behind her sat LJ, sunglasses on, even though it was indoors in the middle of the day. She took a moment to lick her polished lips before speaking.

“So it seems either myself or LJ, or both of us, have managed to garner the attention and ire of Anthrax and Twisted Sister. Personally I don’t think I know either of these two individuals, but as I’ve said all along. There’s always someone else out there who thinks they are crazier or darker than YOU think you are. I mean, just look at Victoria Lyons.”

She gave a quick moment of pause, knowing that this match wasn’t going to be easy. From what she could find about these two, they were as crazy as crazy could be. Even crazier than she had ever pretended to be. That was the thing most people forgot about the industry. Crazy is a common gimmick around it, but violence, the kind that comes from Funhouse matches, Alexandra had made a career on.

“It’s Violent Conduct everyone. And would you know it, they put the hottest new couple as the opening match for the banger show of the year. LJ and I, we’ve torn through several other mixed tag teams and shown time and time again both in the ring together and apart that we are willing to push the limits, to do whatever must be done to win. Weapons or no weapons.”

She looks up at LJ who lowers his sunglasses for a moment letting her talk, but nodding in agreement.

“You see Anthrax, I’m not going to waste my valuable time on addressing you directly, LJ more than had that covered. But I will say this, you don’t scare me. I don’t scare as easily as some of these other women. I used to fight men like you, before coming here. However, since I cannot fight you in the ring, sadly, it’s against the rules, I’ll just say this, Twisted Sister will experience what it’s like to be in there with me, and she can fill you in.”

Leaning back she kissed LJ’s cheek and then sat back up.

“Twisted Sister, let me address you directly my dear little doll. I’ve seen people like you, faced them, countless times over and it’s ended the same way. With their clown paint washed away, mingling with the blood we spilled and guess what, they wound up flat on their backs with me pinning them for the three count. You’ll be no different.”

The camera holds on Alexandra for a few moments before panning up to LJ who smirks and gives that air of confidence he always has.

“They say for every rise, there is a fall. Much like this staircase we are on, climbing ever upwards in this industry is what we all do. It doesn’t matter if you win or lose, upwards is always the goal. We all know too well what’s at stake here, what can happen in this type of match. Hell I’ll even admit it. Matches like this, they take years off a person's career and I’ve been in a lot of them.”

The camera pans out to posters from past shows at the Lost Weekend, it zooms in on one entitled Funhouse, with the picture of a creepy carnival and some deadly looking clowns on it. Alexandra looks up at it and laughs.

“If you think the grease paint and ominous vibes scare either of us. You have no clue who you are going up against. Look, we've both taken our lumps and proven that this company needs us, win or lose, our names are mentioned in meetings, we are pushed into some of the highest caliber matches, hell we put asses in the seats week in and week out.”

A soft laugh leaves her and she see’s LJ’s hand come out for hers.

“And at Violent Conduct Twisted Sister, Anthrax, you two get to see just what we do to people who stand against us. Hell, maybe go pull Logan out of whatever bottle he’s in the bottom of and ask him, ask his little baby doll Brooke, then meet us in the Funhouse, I’ll be glad to make you bleed.”

With that, LJ pulls her into a kiss and the camera fades to black.

Orlando, Florida. Tuesday 9th September. (Off-Camera)

For the first time since the investigation began, Liam was leaving his office to head to the first of the many places the discovery was made by his family, the abandoned home. He wasn't sure why the place was being used for a place to murder their victims or other things that can't be discussed, but Liam needed to have a look and potentially meet the serial killers that wanted Liam's head face to face.

Liam got there in his police car and although sits outside of it, he decided to drive the car into the nearest car park as he didn't want his police car to be really discovered abandonedly as he was going in as a secret cop in a way. So he left the car and went straight to the abandoned home to see what he could find. He arrived and he got his camera with him to see spills of blood being outside on the doorstep and took a picture of it.

Before he could go into the abandoned home, he went to see if there was anything else to see which there was. There's a garage located. Liam took pics as there was blooded handprint and blooded footprint on the garage door.

He managed to lift it up as it was open and he saw a chair, not something that any of the videos he saw showed as he took pictures of it. There was handcuffs and rope here as Liam took pictures of all of that which left him scratch his head as he says this.

Liam Davis: “There's more evidence than I thought. They really used this place to choke their victims? Wow, these guys are pretty dangerous.”

Especially he saw tools there which he took pics off, seem that they had been heavily used. Oddly, the garage doors were easy to unlock so it left Liam to ask a question, even if he was an officer out on his own which he wanted to be for this task.

Liam Davis: “With all these weapons to use to their victims in the garage as well, why did they leave the garage door open so easily for anyone to access and use?”

Liam had seen enough as he decided to close the garage door for the time being before he left the garage area and went to go in the house, seemed the window was broken as the door was completely chained up as Liam took pictures of the breaking and entering being a potential crime, especially there was glass on the floor. Even he stood back and saw from a closer inspection that there was a lot more to tell.

Liam Davis: “They've been using glass to kill their victims too? Fucking hell, this gets worse and worse. I see sharp points of them stabbing people. Even when they threw them out of the window.”

Liam took pictures as evidence with the markers he saw with each point, although the garage wasn't marked with any points, but he used them as a way to use as another load of new evidence he could use against Rosie and Steven, the serial killers on the loose, wanting Liam's head for no apparent reason or a reason that Liam couldn't figure out.

He went into the home and he saw that same exact chair that they've used in the DVD video that Liam saw as he took pictures of that, especially with the blood curved all over it. The blood splatters were everywhere in the living room floor. He saw knives and more rope and tools that were clearly being used by them.

Liam Davis: “This is disgusting. How are these people enjoying what they do to innocent people? Over what, to send me a message or something? I don't know what they are thinking they are doing here to kill innocent people to send me a message.”

It only made Liam angry and why he accepted the wrestling challenge himself when it came against Logan and Vincent who also in theory pissed Liam off as well. Because he decided to enter himself in the Roulette title match because it fits his mood right now and sure, the two opponents he was going to face were mainly all about the title, but for Liam, it meant a lot more than that.

Liam Davis: “This is the reason why I needed to be in the Roulette title match since obviously, I can't use my anger out in the streets for no reason and doing boxing in the gym, even as sparring is nowhere near enough. I'm thankful to sign with SCW at the right timing.”

Liam still searched for more clues, only he saw even the sharp knives and forks being used as weapons. Even saucepans as well with blood marks on it. He was shocked. Even there was barb wire as well that he saw that had been used a lot. He really didn't understand the situation, especially it was clear that there was gym equipment being used which meant that there's a small gym somewhere in the home.

Liam Davis: “Wow, they really did a number on a few people with these weights they used. Jesus, these guys are another level altogether.”

He took pictures of the blooded weights and he saw there was a small gym inside and took pictures in the gym of where the weight came from. Then he left there and went upstairs to see any evidence was in the bedrooms. Of course, there was a dead people smell. Liam held his nose.

Liam Davis: “Fucking hell.”

He walked in and just as he predicted, there was rows of dead bodies in the home as he took as much as he held his nose in, pictures of the dead bodies as he immediately left the bedroom and saw there was blood leading to both the upstairs bathroom which there was another two load of bodies in the bath and another two in the shower.

Liam Davis: “Disgusting. Why would these serial killers be so proud to sink the entire abandoned home out with dead bodies and leaving dead bodies here, trying to not let the families know or something? I'm going to have to come back here as I'm not identifying the bodies on my own, not when I don't have that sort of equipment available to me and not when this is making me feel sick too.”

Liam took pictures quickly before he immediately left the abandoned home as he didn't want to stay in the smelly dead bodies home for very long as well. Luckily there was only grown adults dead bodies there, but Liam couldn't think of the worse as he had enough evidence to take back with him with a ton of pictures on his digital camera before he took it to the camera shop to get some photographs sorted before he came back to the police station and show the staff his findings.

Declan Davis: “Wow, you found a lot of stuff there.”

Liam Davis: “Next time we go over there, I need one of you with me. I also need to cover my mouth and nose up. It's absolutely disgusting in that home. I counted at least twenty bodies altogether in that abandoned home as well. I also discovered other things as well.”

Declan Davis: “Like what? “

Liam Davis: “There was a garage in the abandoned home which none of you clearly had a look at because I saw quite a few evidence there of them using the chair and kill their victims with proper rope and the other home, they were using barb wire and they were using glass to stab their opponents with and even cut them open.”

Liam gave Declan the pictures and even he was sickened out, especially with the dead bodies in the pictures and at least one part of the investigation was done in Liam's eyes because he had discovered a lot that others didn't even notice, even Declan admittedly speaks about the situation.

Declan Davis: “We missed the garage somehow to have a look, but the fact you did, only to discover they are using that place as a place to kill is something we have to look at and something we're all proud of. We will look in there ourselves.”

Liam Davis: “I expect you guys to do just that as it's our investigation, not just one person taking the task over. Anyway, I feeling sick after smelling disgusting dead human bodies in there. I need to just go to sleep.”

Declan nodded as he accepts Liam's request and leaves his bedroom for Liam to place his head down and went straight off to sleep for the night after almost being sick all over the place. He went to sleep after that.

-------------------------

Roulette title contenders video diary (On-Camera)

“Pathetic these wrestlers are of Vincent and Logan, going back and forth as they likely are on them playing the he said this, he said that game like uncreative, lazy children these two are, especially when I know you both talked a little bit of shit about me, how you both came face to face to ask for a title match.

It came across as unauthentic and fake. Logan only did it to stop people moaning about him doing the wrong thing. It was so fake with him going to ask Vincent to face him for the title and the bitch got mad about it. Do I really need to praise about you beating Aiden Reynolds again? Because that's all I have to give you praise for because asking Vincent in his face was certainly not one of those tasks. Since it was so fake and unauthentic.

The only reason I didn't address Vincent in his face, even though you both are cowards, praising each other for fake and unauthentic asking for title shot in each other's faces was because I was doing police work and it's why I didn't play the respond the opponents game also. That on top of me not giving a flying fuck what you both say to me. I literally don't because otherwise, I wouldn't be built to be a police officer or as a professional wrestler.

I still don't know why you didn't go for the Internet title Logan, where you could've gone up the ladder, where you literally don't need to become the Roulette champion. I get it, you're mad at Guy, god knows how many times you mentioned him which I do agree with on his fucking cheap method of being king of the ring and win a championship. Personally, I'm glad he's gone because he was a disgrace to that Roulette title

But what you should've considered was the fact I beat you in a one on one match, not the bullshit throw people off board match that I was forced to be put in because I was scheduled to be in it and it was a stupid idea that I never felt comfortable with. Quite frankly Logan, nothing you say will ever come across authentic. You're pathetic for still going on a mission to go for the same belt you act like you never lost. If I was to lose the Roulette title, I would already move on from it. There will be no rematches bullshit because unlike you, I'd accept losses.

Which brings me to you Vincent. Bragging about how SCW wanted you as the Roulette champion like a coward you are. You didn't earn or do anything for that belt. Heck, didn't you lose to LJ Kasey before this match? How come you didn't have the balls to confront him to ask him to go for you title? I know why, you were scared. You were settling in for an easy option of Logan Hunter who we know was stupid to not move onto the Internet title.

That's the problem with you both in general. You both only give a fuck of brutalising each other for a title. That's it, no other reason and I don't buy into you Vincent being a fake hero. You're just as unauthentic as Logan is. Acting how you're going to be the hero. You're the fakest hero I've ever seen. Removing Logan Hunter makes you hated even more. I might have some standards I stick by.

But that's you being a fucking asshole with that. That's on top of how hard you fought Jayden Harris as well, but you couldn't beat him and how you were pissed with him because of what he said about your family. That's why I don't have fucking family around me in the wrestling business. That's fucking why you'll never see me with a partner or anyone because I don't need them unlike you and Logan to use your managers and family to help you win your matches.

I won all, but two matches since I've been here and that's because I've proven to be the top wrestler and you should be thankful that you got an opponent that's on your level of toughness. If you want to shit on me, I don't give a fuck because I don't need to play the response game. I use your old videos for that.

The reason I'm in this match is not just for the title, it's because I got two people wanting my fucking head and instead just having the goal for the title, that's honestly the bonus here, it's because I need to show these killers that I can be tough in the ring. That's where the Roulette title comes in that helps with dealing violence that both of my killers want to do with me.

You and Logan have no other reason to be in this match and you're honestly keeping my belt warm with me at least having a fucking purpose that I gave you both competition and you can't say I haven't earned the shot Vincent because I beat Logan, but you can't say you couldn't have given LJ Kasey that same opportunity for beating you and I've beaten LJ Kasey in my debut.

I just haven't beaten you and I will when it comes to this company, being the fastest new rising star of the entire company that will win a title in only in a few weeks. Isn't that ridiclious? More so that I have a purpose with that title that will signify that you both are top threats, especially you Vincent. I know you're a threat, but fuck sake, at least have the right to brag when you've actually earned it.

SCW staff didn't want you to be a champion, you fell upon it and so did you Logan when LJ Kasey who really should be in this match got injured from what I was reading. You were the replacement and Aiden slacked off. But I won't be because hopefully the Roulette title will give us a fucking decent match where I don't have to break the law in. I'm going to win and none of you are going to like me as champion. See you boring pricks out there where I walk out as the new Roulette champion.”