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91
Supercard Archives / Good.Evil
« Last post by Victoria Lyons on January 09, 2026, 03:31:53 AM »
It was a quiet New Year's Eve in the home of Victoria Lyons, she had just returned from a wonderful birthday dinner with Darian has she sat on the couch with a blanket draped Loosely over her shoulders the fireworks hadn't started yet but the anticipation of the new year was already humming through the glass.

She heard her phone buzz on the coffee table but she didn't look at it she already knew it was just more birthday wishes from her peers and family members. Many of which she never even  talked to during the year, but somehow every year there they were wishing her the best like they actually knew her.

She asked her slowly through her nose and looked up at the ceiling hoping it would answer questions that she hadn't figured out how to ask. Questions about who she was and what she was becoming.

It was New Year's Eve and also her birthday, It always felt so strange to her, like the universe couldn't decide if she belonged at the end or at the beginning. Vincent had been born a minute later on New Year's Day, a fresh calendar list, all she got was the final breath of the old year.

Her gaze shifted to her faint reflection in nearby window, there were no fancy lights or ring gear or championship belts draped over her shoulder, she was just a woman sitting alone with her thoughts, away from the usual noise that always drowned them out.

Harper Mason slipped into her mind uninvited, as it seemed to always do these days.

The Bombshell Roulette Championship. 

Victoria had the longest reign in the division's history until Harper came along and ended it.

 Victoria feels her jaw tighten slightly, she can still feel the shock and disbelief,  the way air left the room when it happened. Everybody looked at her to see if she would snap and turn into exactly what they thought she was. But she didn't scream, she just recalibrated.

However Harper didn't just beat her Harper took something that day she ended something historic and put a period at the end of his sentence that Victoria wasn't ready to finish writing and now here they are again ready to write another chapter.

The Bombshell Internet Championship

A different championship and a different moment but the same two women. She looked down at the faint marks still on her knuckles and flexed her hand. She had wormed her way into Harper's championship match by attacking her and now Harper felt like Victoria stole something from her.

Maybe she had, and maybe the way she went about it wasn't fair. But to Victoria the ends always justified the means. She had found a way to make herself a champion again and it worked, Harper was just going to have to deal with it and understand that life didn't always play fair.

Luna Palsino flashed through her mind next.  She didn't hesitate to answer Eddie's call, and stepped in when Luna tried to involve herself in his match. But why had she really done it?

If she was being perfectly honest it was because it made her feel important and it made her feel needed. Eddie needed her help, he had come to her. But at the same time she knew it was the right thing to do. She knew something would have to be done about Luna in that situation and both Eddie and Carter were too honorable to lay their hands on a lady.

But then there was Harper, the contract, and the name signed in blood. She hadn't planned it that way.  It had come from somewhere instinctive. When she signed that contract in Harper's blood there had been that flicker of a moment where she felt powerful, and then another flicker where she had felt hollow.

The hollow feeling lingered longer than she had wanted it to, sitting in her chest like a low ache not sharp enough to hurt or loud enough to demand attention just present and persistent.

She leaned back into the couch listening to a clock tick it's way toward midnight and a new year she wasn't quite sure she was ready for. Familiar footsteps padded softly somewhere behind her,  she didn't look, she knew those steps and waited for the familiar weight to settle on the couch beside her, as she nestled closer to Darian. She could still smell the faint remnants of the Italian restaurant he had taken her to for dinner.


“You're thinking loudly.” she heard him say.

“Runs in the family.” she shrugged.

“Care to share any of it?” he asked

She exhaled slightly, curling her fingers.

“I keep replaying it, all of it.” she said “Harper. Luna. Eddie. The contract signed in blood. Me.”

Darian raised an eyebrow.

“They villainize me for my assault on Harper, but they cheer for me taking out Luna.” she said “Am I supposed to be good? Am I supposed to be bad? I don't even know anymore.”

“When have you ever cared about any of that?” Darian asked.

“I've been asking myself the same thing.” she said

“You're allowed to change…”  Darian said “You know that right?”

“I know.” she said shifting slightly “I've felt it ever since Harper took the Roulette Championship from me. I kept telling myself that records are meant to be broken and if it wasn't her it would have been someone else but that reign was proof that everything I sacrificed meant something, that it all had a purpose, and when it ended I felt the universe asking me who I was without it “

Darian listened.

“I still don't have a clean answer to that.” she said "But I do have the Bombshell Internet Championship, and it feels different. Like this one isn't about proving I can last, this one is about proving I can adapt.”

“Adaptation will keep you alive in this business.” Darian said with a knowing nod.

“Exactly..” Victoria said “I don't want to go backward and chase the ghost of that reign forever, but I also don't want to pretend it didn't matter.”

“Then don't pretend.” Darian replied “Let it matter, just don't let it own you.”

“Easy to say..” Victoria scoffed.

“And hard to do.“ he agreed “But when have you ever shied away from hard?”

She let that sink in for a few moments, searching herself again, flashes of Harper's blood, reminders of how heavy the pen felt in her hand.

“It was a statement you know..” she said “When I signed that contract in Harper's blood, a reminder to everybody that I'm not somebody who waits for permission or does things the right way.”

“There she is..” Darian grinned.

“Most would say that doesn't make me good.” she said “But I don't necessarily think I'm bad either.”

“You never really were one for labels.” Darian said “You just have to be Victoria, and maybe they'll like what you do, and maybe they won't but you're going to do what's best for Victoria Lyons.”

Victoria listened.

“And right now what Victoria needs to do is tell Harper Mason that she's not sorry.“ Darian said “She took the opportunity because she could and if Harper wants to call her a thief, this is her opportunity to try and take it back.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Victoria said with a dangerous smile. "This year I'm not chasing who I was, I'm becoming who I need to be.”

The sound of the clock continued ticking closer to midnight.

Ten

Nine

Eight

She thought about her Bombshell Internet Championship, where the Bombshell Roulette Championship had represented validation,  this one represented evolution.

Seven

Six

Five

Whatever came in the new year and whatever consequences followed her choices she had come to peace with one truth.

Four

Three

Two.

She wasn't here to be good, and she wasn't here to be bad. She was here to be undeniable, and Harper Mason would be the first to be reminded of that in 2026.

One.

It was time for another undeniable year for Victoria Lyons.


“Happy New Year Dare Bear." she said, locking in a New Year's kiss with her fiance.

__________

The cameras snap to life to find Victoria Lyons standing alone in the center of the frame, the Bombshell Internet Championship resting on her shoulder like it's an extension of her body.

The room is simple with concrete walls, some exposed beams and a few overhead lights. She looks directly into the lens with a warm and knowing smile.


“I spent my holiday season in peace, with my fiancé.” she began calmly, “No crowd, no rivals, no opinions screaming at me from every direction telling me who I'm supposed to be, and do you know what I realized?

She paused and took a calculated step forward.

“I realized how loud everybody gets when they think they figured someone out.” she continued. "They cheer for me when I put down Luna Pasilno, stopping her from interfering in Eddie and Carter's match. That was okay with everyone because I was helping the right people fight the right fight.”

She paused, taking another slow step forward.

“But I take out Harper Mason, sign my name in her blood, and suddenly everybody's uncomfortable.” She said with a shrug “Funny how morality works like that. What I find truly funny about it is, had you chosen to sign your name in my blood, they would have loved you for it. They would have chanted your name and tweeted about how badass Harper Mason is.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes slightly.

“But because it was me…” she continued “Because I didn't play the part you were comfortable assigning me,  suddenly it's a problem.”

She takes another slow step forward.

“Harper, I want you to listen to me very carefully.” she said her tone growing sharp, “This isn't jealousy, or me spiraling because you took something from me once, this is clarity.”

She tilts her head slightly keeping her eyes on the camera.

“You ended my Roulette Championship reign.” she said “The longest one the division has ever seen, and I'm not going to rewrite history or pretend it didn't matter, because it did matter.”

She pauses shortly.

“It mattered because that reign wasn't just wins and defenses.” she continued “It was proof, proof that every sacrifice I made and every night I chose this over comfort, it all meant something. When you took it from me, the world went quiet waiting to see if I would crack and become exactly what they already decided I was.”

She grinned.

“But I didn't.” she said “I recalibrated, figured out what I needed to do to become a champion again and I did it.  Unfortunately it had to come at your expense, and you can call that stealing all you want, but the truth is I never stole anything. You still had your opportunity, I just changed the variables and you were unable to adapt.”

She taps her Internet Championship.

“If me turning your singles opportunity into a triple threat really threw you off your game that much.” Victoria continued “Maybe you don't deserve to be a champion, because a champion, a real champion stays ready for anything and a real Champion is always able to recalibrate.”

She knowingly adjusted her championship, running her fingers across the plate letting them linger there a little longer than necessary.

“You see Harper, champions don't live in perfect conditions.” she continued “They don't get straight roads and clear skies, they get chaos and they get moments where the script gets torn up right in front of them.  It is in those moments you can either evolve or make excuses.”

Her expression sharpens.

“You want to frame this like I robbed you of something sacred.” she said “Like I corrupted some pure opportunity that was meant to be yours. But that opportunity was never guaranteed, it was conditional and I changed the conditions. That's what you call intelligence.”

She nods slightly.

“That championship reign you ended..” she continued “Everyone will remember the length and the records I set, but what they won't remember are the nights after where my body didn't want to move and the days where the pressure sat so heavy on my chest that breathing felt like work. That reign taught me endurance, but losing it taught me honesty.”

She took another step closer to the camera.

“It taught me that I had wrapped too much of myself around being the example.” she said “I focused too much on making myself the measuring stick, and when you took it from me I realized how dangerous that was.  I realized the moment you define yourself by one thing, you make it easy for the world to decide who you are when that thing is gone.”

She straightens up her posture.

“So I refuse to let the world define me by what I lost.” she said “And that's what scares you the most Harper, not the blood or the contract, the fact that I'm no longer tethered to anybody's expectations. I don't need to be the longest reigning anymore. Do I want to be, and am I going to try to be? Absolutely. But I don't —--need—--- to be.  I'm not going to be the example of how to do things the right way, I'm going to do things my way because what I need to do is win.”

She pauses.

"You know the difference between the two versions of me?" she continued "The woman you beat, and the one you're going to be standing across from now? The first one wanted to be respected and she got that, but this one? This one wants to be undeniable. So you can call what I did to get into your championship match, theft, or crossing a line, you can call it striving for attention, phrase it however you want. I choose to call it clarity.”

She takes another calculated step forward.

“Clarity.” she repeated “The kind that strips away excuses and doesn't ask for permission. Because once you see things clearly Harper,  you stop lying to yourself and you stop pretending this business it's about fairness, or momentum or who deserves what on paper you stop pretending that championships are won by morality plays and good intentions.”

She lifts the Bombshell internet Championship off her shoulder and holds it in front of her.

“This isn't mine because I was patient.” She continued “It's mine because I was decisive, I didn't wait for an invitation, I didn't hope an opportunity would come back around and offer me a reward. I found an opening and I forced the issue.”

She rests the title back in place on her shoulder.

“That's the part that makes people uncomfortable.” Victoria continued “The forcing of the issue, because it reminds them that the difference between —-almost—-- a champion, and a champion is usually someone willing to do what others hesitate to. I didn't wake up one morning and decide to be controversial, I woke up and decided I wasn't going to be passive because passivity is how legacies fade.”

She pauses shortly.

“Some may call me ruthless, and that's fine.” she said “That word exists for a reason, but don't confuse ruthlessness with recklessness. I didn't act without thought, I acted with intention and the intention was this.”

She taps her championship.

“You ended one reign Harper.” Victoria said “But you didn't take my understanding of this business. The woman you beat needed validation and she needed her reign to speak for her, but the woman sitting here now? She IS—--- the justification, and somewhere deep down that scares you because you can't outweigh me anymore, and you can't outlast me hoping I break under the weight of expectation. This championship doesn't weigh me down, it sharpens me. So go ahead and walk into this match telling yourself that you're owed something, and you'll be reclaiming what was stolen because when that bell rings you're not really fighting for justice, you're fighting to prove you can take it from me and that's going to be a much harder fight.”

She adjusts the championship once more.

“So bring all that anger.” she said “Bring every excuse and grievance, whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night because I'm done explaining myself. One thing is for sure Harper, when this is over there won't be any confusion.”

She lets those words hang for a moment.

“When that bell rings it won't be about who people like more.” she continued “Or who the crowd decides fits the role they're most comfortable cheering for, it's about who's prepared to walk in and live with the consequences and I assure you that I already am. You may have beat the version of me that needed to prove she belonged, but now you're about to face the version that knows she does. I will do whatever it takes to leave that ring with this championship on my shoulder.”

She pauses.

“So prepare however you need to.“ she said “But understand this, when you step in the ring with me you're fighting for survival because this year I'm not looking to be remembered fondly, I'm looking to be remembered clearly. I will walk out still the Bombshell Internet Champion and you will still continue running circles chasing championships trying to do things the right way.”

She laughs to herself.

“It must be so exhausting.” she said “Running in circles, convincing yourself that if you do everything the right way the universe will reward you. The hope that if you're patient enough it'll all work out. But the truth is, it won't because this business doesn't reward virtue. It rewards resolve and right now mine is absolute.”

She pauses again.

“So keep chasing permission Harper.” she said “Keep waiting for the perfect moment that tells you it's finally your time, because when you step in the ring with me you will find out what happens when someone stops waiting all together. I promise you, you won't be facing a woman haunted by what she lost, you'll be facing someone who already let go of it and learned how dangerous she can be without it. If you really think I took something from you, that I took this championship from you, than this is your opportunity to make it right, so come take it if you can, but when I walk out still Bombshell Internet Champion you better take a good hard look at yourself and realize what you need to do, what you —-really—- need to do if you want to be a champion around here, because once again I know I'm willing to do whatever it takes.”

She winks at the camera with a knowing grin as everything fades to black.
92
Supercard Archives / "No more charity."
« Last post by Logan Hunter on January 08, 2026, 11:16:00 AM »
Logan’s second full year as an SCW Wrestler was about to swing into full gear and at Inception VIII he will be challenging Vincent Lyons Jr. for the SCW Roulette Championship! Logan had previously won the title last year at Into the Void only for  the reign to be controversially ended a few weeks later and now? Logan was eager to win what he claims was stolen from him but can he kick off the new year with his second Roulette Title Reign?

Logan and Brooke’s Home, Las Vegas, Nevada
Christmas Day 2025. 11:00am

A capitalist’s dream date has arrived.

I have no strong feelings towards Christmas but with both Brooke and Marissa in the house this year? I will comply for now and celebrate this occasion with the two women.

Besides, next month I will truly have cause for celebration because tat is the day where I will finally get back what I never should’ve lost.

”Are you serious Marissa?” I asked the beautiful brunette woman as I looked at the gift she had gotten me. ”A replica of the very title that  was stolen from me?!”

Marissa looked up from her pile of gifts and just shook her head. Looking annoyed. ”Whenever I asked you for gift ideas you kept ranting about that championship belt!” Marissa responded as she shook her head and Brooke quickly nodded in agreement. ”What did you expect me to do exactly? Steal the real title from Vincent? Go ahead and ask your fellow Aussie Alexander Raven how that ended for him!”

”Just because me and Raven share a country of origin does not mean that we run in the same circles!” I insisted and Marissa just rolled her eyes. ”And besides, I did get something for you.”

”If it’s free therapy for me living with you and Brooke for the better part of a year because my house in LA was destroyed in last year’s wild fires? I’ll take it.” Marissa grunted in response before I handed her a card without another world, she opened the envelope while Brooke got her gift for her older twin sister ready. ”Really?!”

”What’s the problem Mari?” Brooke askd as she walked over to her sister and read the card for herself. ”Logan did you really, REALLY have to sign the card like you were cutting a promo?!”

”I needed to get my point across.” I responded as I folded my arms and the twins just shook their heads. ”I thought you’d be more appreciative.”

”Oh sure, a Christmas Card that serves as evidence that my younger sister us daring a manchild who is constantly in wrestling mode!” Marissa sighed as she school her head. ”I mean seriously, you included that commanding me to kneel crap! The only Shields Sister who kneels for you is Brooke and that’s because you’re dating her!”

”I hate how accurate that is.” Brooke grunted in response before handing her sister the gift. ”Anyway, this should hopefully make you feel better!”

”I mean, it can only go up from here!” Marissa said before opening the present and seeing a brand new Nintendo Switch 2 with three games: Donkey Kong: Bananza, Metroid Prime 4 and Pokémon ZA Legends: Arceaus. ”Oh uear, this is much better!”

”A material possession is better than my gesture?!” I demanded and Marissa turned to me. ”You disappoint me.”

”First off all I’ll take a games console over a Christmas Card that reads like a Serial Killer’s manifesto.” Marissa responded as she rolled her eyes and I just gloare at her. ”Second? That same sentence was said by Brooke whenever te two of you have had sex!”

Needless to say? Brooke nearly fell out of the chair in laughter. ”Jesus Christ sis!” Brooke laughed as she wiped some tears from her eyes. ”You didn’t need to end hi, that badly!”

”Maybe! But it was satisfying as all hell.” Marissa responded before she gathered up the rest of her gifts and moves towards the stairs to her bedroom. ”Now, if you excuse me, I’m opening the rest of my presents upstairs t open them in peace!” Marissa responded before she headed upstairs, not to be seen against until dinner time.

Logan and Brooke’s Home Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Thursday the 1st of January 2026. 14:00pm

The final weeks of December and by extension the New Year went by without too much hassle aside from Christmas Day but now that we are officially in the New Year? It is back to business as usual.

And for me and Brooke that meant one thing: training, but as we were doing some workouts I spotted Marissa coming down the stairs with Brooke’s Irish Wolfhound Aolfie close behind her.

”So just remind me guys.” Marissa commented after hopping off the bottom step and moving aside so Aolfie could have as much room as he needed. ”When is the Go Gym opening up for the New Year?”

”The fifth of this month.” Brooke responded as she looked up at her older sister from the rowing machine. ”Why?”

”Just curious.” Marissa shrugged as she took a seat and Aolfie sat down next to her. ”About that and why you guys haven’t been to the Go Gym once since we returned from the Viking Era Tour last year!”

”Why does that concern you?!” I asked as I turned to the Brunette woman. ”You made it clear that you have no desire to follow in Brooke’s footsteps!”

”I don’t know.” Marissa responded as she shrugged her shoulders. ”Maybe I just miss the peace and quiet around here.”

”It’s complicated.” Brooke responded as she shook her head. ”At first Logan didn’t want another encounter with Fenris after what happened at the Iceland leg of the Viking Era Tour, but lately? No one really knows what’s going on with the Go Gym’s management.”

”And that is all we will discuss on the matter.” I added as I stood up from the weight machine and Marissa nodded. ”Anything else you came downstairs for?”

”Not really.” Marissa commented as she leaned back. ”Just got bored hanging around upstairs and decided to see what you guys are up too.”

”Then do so quietly!” I insisted and Marissa just shook her head as we resumed our workout.

Logan and Brooke’s Home Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Thursday the 1st of January 2026, 16:00pm

*on camera, promo time*

With my first match of the year a mere week away I had a few things on my mind.

”2024 was where it all began but 2025 was meant to be my year! And when I won the Roulette Title in Paris at Into the Void that should’ve been my moment!” I declared with a snarl as I paced around the ring with Brooke watching my every step. ”Until a certain clown used his ill-gotten King for a Day Powers to steal my title from me! And the biggest insult of all?

When the clown finally left SCW the title was not returned to its rightful owner! Instead it went to a man who happened to be scheduled to face the clown for the title!”
I growled as I made a fist. ”And now that we are in the New Year the time for change has come! I will serve as Vincent Lyons Jr’s first and last challenger of the year in 2026 for this is my moment!”

Brooke stepped forward with the usual cocky smirk on her face.

”Vincent, Vinny, darling, your time as SCW’s resident charity champion has come to an end!” Brooke stated as she flipped some of her long red hair over her shoulder. ”The only reason you were given that title in the first place was because the bosses were feeling charitable and now, months later, me and Logan have arrived to set right what went wrong.

In other words? Your reign is on life support.”
Brooke added before the stunning redhead made a slit throat motion with her thumb. ”And me and Marissa will be on hand to ensure that the Roulette Title is returned to Logan after months of it being away from its rightful owner! Whatever plans you have for the new year with that belt Vincent? Just go ahead and throw them out the window right now!”

I stepped forward again.

”I have endured injustice, humiliation and being without that title for far too long Vincent, and the time has come for the Roulette Title to return to me!” I stated before I went straight to the ring ropes. ”No clowns, no charity cases, just that title returning to me and kicking off the new year right! I only hope that you put up a fight because this won’t be interesting otherwise!”

Brooke chimed in again.

”About the only thing in 2025 that went right was when I was awarded Mananager of the Year at High Stakes!” Brooke stated as she picked up the Manager of the Year Trophy from behind her. ”And really, when you look at my competition this year, was there ever any doubt? I don’t think so, in the span of a year I went from the newest female graduate of the Go Gym to the youngest Manager of the Year winner at the age of twenty! And I when I lead my boyfriend Logan to winning back his gold at Inception VIII? Maybe I’ll be a two time winner come High Stakes?”

It’s that simple.

”Vincent. If it was up to me your farce of a title reign never would’ve happened in the first place and the same goes for that clown’s mere existence!” I stated as I pointed to the camera that was being held by Marissa. ”But those in charge clearly fear what I will do with a title around my waist again and since you have no more charity cases to help[ you Vincent? It’s time to face facts!”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”You were never a worthy champion, you didn’t even earn that championship, you were gift wrapped it because you were Christian’s chosen usurper!” I stated before Brooke moved in close and placed a hand on my chest while looking at the camera. ”At Inception VIII I will set right what was wrong when I win back my rightful title! Woe to the vanquished, for the lives of champions who were given titles because of charity shall not be mourned, Vincent? I COMMAND THEE KNEEL! YOU HAVE DENIED ME MY THRONE FOR TOO LONG! And as you embrace oblivion? I will reclaim my throne!”

Me and Brooke started to make out as the scene fades.
93
Preperation

The barbell settled into Alicia’s hands with a familiar heaviness, knurling biting gently into her palms as she lifted it from the rack. She didn’t rush. Never did anymore. The old instinct, to explode, to prove something with speed, had softened into something more deliberate. She stepped back, feet shoulder-width apart, posture precise, breath measured.

Down.

Up.

The mirrors caught her movement, clean and controlled. No wasted motion. No audience. Just effort. It was always like this now. The gym didn’t demand perfection, only honesty. The weight never lied to her. It didn’t care about her name, her past, or the things people whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear. It only responded to what she gave it. As she lowered the bar again, her thoughts slipped, not forward, not outward, but back.

The smell came first.

Not rubber mats or disinfectant, but incense, faint and stubborn, clinging to the air no matter how many windows were opened. Old wood floors polished smooth by decades of bare feet and falls. The sharp snap of bodies hitting canvas. Japanese voices she barely understood then, clipped and precise, cutting through her uncertainty like blades. She exhaled as she lifted.

Japan.

The dojo hadn’t looked like much the first time she saw it. No glamour. No banners announcing greatness. Just a low building tucked away from the city, quiet in a way that felt deliberate. Sacred, almost. Alicia had stood at the entrance with her bag slung over her shoulder, heart racing, convincing herself that nerves were excitement.

She’d been wrong.

Inside, everything felt bigger. Not physically, but spiritually. The walls carried history. Every scuff mark on the floor felt earned. And standing there, a young woman thousands of miles from home, Alicia had never felt smaller. She racked the bar and wiped sweat from her forehead, chest rising and falling as the memory sharpened. Back then, she’d been sure of only one thing: she didn’t belong. She remembered the way she bowed too stiffly, unsure if she was doing it right. The way her accent tangled around the language, how she nodded more than she spoke, afraid of saying the wrong thing. She remembered being watched—not unkindly, but critically. As if the room itself was assessing her worth.

She had followed her father’s footsteps across an ocean, carrying his legacy like armor, believing it would protect her. It hadn’t. The trainers hadn’t cared who her father was. The women she trained with certainly hadn’t. Respect wasn’t inherited here. It was extracted—slowly, painfully, rep by rep, fall by fall. Alicia picked up a pair of dumbbells now, arms burning as she moved through controlled curls. The pain was familiar, grounding. It anchored her to the present even as the past unfolded.

She remembered her first week.

How her body screamed every morning. How she woke before dawn, muscles stiff, bruises blooming along her arms and ribs like unwanted flowers. She remembered sitting on the edge of her futon, staring at her hands, wondering if everyone else felt this broken, or if she was just weak. She had never been the strongest. Never the fastest. Never the most naturally gifted. And she had known it. That knowledge had followed her like a shadow. Every drill. Every critique. Every time she was corrected…again, while someone else moved on. Alicia had learned quickly that Japan didn’t coddle insecurity. If you hesitated, you were left behind.

So she learned not to hesitate. But confidence didn’t come with that lesson. Only fear. She finished the set and leaned forward, hands on her knees, breathing hard. A younger Alicia flickered in her reflection, eyes wide, jaw tight, trying desperately not to cry in front of people who expected toughness, not tears. She had cried anyway. Just not where anyone could see. The showers had been her sanctuary. Hot water masking the sound. Steam hiding the tremble in her shoulders. She’d press her forehead to the tile and ask herself the same question over and over.

Why am I not good enough?

At the time, she thought the question would motivate her. That if she could just figure out what was missing, she could fix it. She didn’t understand yet how dangerous that mindset was—how it carved worth into something conditional. She loaded plates onto the leg press now, heavier than before. Her legs trembled as she pushed, thighs burning as the weight moved.

Push.

In Japan, pushing had been everything.

She pushed through exhaustion until her vision blurred. Through language barriers and loneliness. Through the humiliation of being corrected publicly, through the silent disappointment she imagined every time she fell short. She pushed because stopping felt like failure, and failure felt like erasure. But there were moments, small ones, when something else crept in. A nod from a trainer after a clean sequence. A quiet “ii desu” muttered under someone’s breath. The first time she wasn’t the slowest to get back up. The first time someone trusted her to take them through a drill without hesitation.

Those moments didn’t erase the doubt. They just punctured it. Alicia locked out the press and held it there, legs shaking, jaw clenched.

She had stayed in Japan longer than she planned. Not because she felt ready, but because leaving felt like admitting defeat. Somewhere along the way, though, survival turned into belonging. Not acceptance. Belonging came later. But survival was enough at the time. She released the weight and sat up slowly, heart pounding. Sweat dripped down her temples, her breathing loud in her ears. She smiled faintly. That scared, immature young woman hadn’t known what she was becoming. She’d thought greatness looked like fearlessness. Like never doubting. Like never hurting.

She knew better now. Alicia moved to the mat and stretched, muscles protesting as she eased into the movements. Her body didn’t recover like it used to. She felt that truth every morning. In the way old injuries whispered instead of screamed. In the extra time it took to warm up. In the patience she had learned, not by choice, but by necessity.

She wasn’t as good as she used to be.

The thought didn’t sting the way it once had. Because she was also more. More aware. More grounded. More capable of seeing the full picture instead of just the next obstacle. She had won world championships. Traveled the globe. Etched her name into history in ways that girl in Japan couldn’t have imagined without laughing at the audacity of it. And yet. What mattered most wasn’t what she had conquered. It was what she had endured without losing herself.

She sat there, stretching hamstrings that protested loudly, and allowed herself something she hadn’t in a long time. Grace. Not the performative kind. Not the kind granted by fans or headlines or legacy speeches. But the quiet kind you give yourself when you stop measuring your worth against who you used to be. She had chased perfection once. It had nearly broken her. Now, she chased presence. Alicia stood, gathering her things as the gym continued around her, oblivious to the journey she had just taken without ever leaving the room. The weight today hadn’t been on the bar. It had been in memory. In reconciliation.

She paused by the mirror one last time.

The woman staring back at her wasn’t fearless. She wasn’t invincible. She wasn’t the best version of herself she’d ever been.

She was real.

And she still had something to offer.

Alicia nodded once, to the reflection, to the past, to the girl in Japan who had stayed when leaving would’ve been easier.

Then she walked out, steady, grounded, carrying the kind of strength that didn’t need to be proven ever again.

Break

”You talk about ghosts like they chose you.”

Alicia can’t help but chuckle, she’s leaning against a wall one lake up with her foot flat against it, tight fitting black jeans and red and black converse give way to a black leather stud belt and a black crop top. Her long hair down except for a few parts on the side that are braided and dangling down.

“Like the walls whispered your name. Like the past reached forward, grabbed you by the wrist, and anointed you as something inevitable. That’s not destiny, Alexandra. That’s desperation dressed up as romance. You wandered through the Flamingo like a pilgrim looking for permission. You stared at reflections, listened to echoes, begged history to notice you. You spoke to dead men because the living ones already measured you, and found you wanting. You wrapped yourself in blood-soaked nostalgia because it’s easier than admitting the truth”

“You’re not chasing me. You’re chasing your failures.”

“You say I walk into this like it’s another photoshoot. Another headline. Another moment where the world tells me I’m untouchable. That’s cute. That’s convenient. That’s the version of me you need to exist, because the real one ruins your whole narrative. I didn’t get here because I look good under lights. I got here because when the lights hit, I perform.”

“You think grace means softness. You think composure means ignorance. You think confidence is vanity because you don’t understand what it feels like to stand in the center of the storm and not flinch. You call that superficial because you’ve never owned a moment, you’ve only survived them. You keep saying you need this. You need the title. You need validation. You need redemption. You need to rewrite losses that still live rent-free in your head. And you’re right about one thing: that does make you dangerous. Just not in the way you think.”


She pushes off the wall stepping forward as she moves toward the bright flashing lights of the Las Vegas strip

“It makes you reckless. It makes you emotional. It makes you predictable. I don’t need this match to mean anything more than it is. I don’t need to bleed for clarity. I don’t need to pace the floor replaying imaginary violence to convince myself I belong. I already know who I am. That’s the difference you keep tripping over. You confuse obsession with purpose. You confuse instability with honesty. You confuse suffering with strength. And worst of all, you confuse mythology with inevitability. You talk about Vegas like it decides who wins. Like this city crowns monsters and buries kings in the same breath. Like the Flamingo itself is some divine judge weighing souls and handing out verdicts soaked in neon and blood.”

“Vegas doesn’t decide anything, The ring does.”                                                     

“History doesn’t swing first. I do. You want to frame this as survival versus vanity. As hunger versus entitlement. As monster versus muse. That’s not insight, that’s projection. You need me to be shallow so you can be deep. You need me to be unaware so you can feel enlightened. You need me to underestimate you because you already underestimate yourself. You don’t fight for the future. You fight to escape the past. Every word you spoke was about what you’ve lost. Every threat you made was about what you’re afraid to lose again.”

“You say you don’t sleep before moments like this. You pace. You plan. You replay bones hitting canvas until it feels like music. That’s not clarity. That’s fixation. That’s a mind stuck on one outcome because it doesn’t trust itself to adapt when things don’t go to plan. Champions sleep. Champions rest. Champions walk into matches knowing they can adjust, endure, and outlast. You’re wired because you’re scared of silence. Because in the quiet, all that’s left is the truth: you don’t know who you are without this title. You don’t know how to exist without something to claw for. You don’t know how to stand still without feeling irrelevant.”


She closes her eyes and starts to laugh, stopping as she gets to one of the streets going down the main Vegas strip. Crowds of people go by, Alicia simply folds her arms over her chest and continues, the different flashing lights casting a shadow on her face.

“So you call yourself a monster. Monsters are easy. Monsters roar. Monsters threaten. Monsters rely on fear because they can’t rely on consistency. Everyone already expects you to be unstable. Everyone already whispers about you backstage. Everyone already braces for chaos when your name is on the card. That’s not an advantage. That’s a warning label.”

“You think being unpredictable makes you dangerous, but unpredictability is just another pattern when it’s all you have. I don’t need to guess what you’ll do, I just need to wait for you to do too much. Because you always do. You say you’re not here to end my career, just my reign. That you’re here to take back what you believe is owed to you. Like the title wronged you. Like history owes you interest on past failures.”

“The title doesn’t owe you anything. It doesn’t belong to your pain. It doesn’t belong to your sacrifices. It doesn’t belong to your need. It belongs to the person who can carry it without letting it define them. And that’s not you. You call the Bombshell Roulette Championship a sacrifice. You talk about grabbing it like it owes you money. You talk about dragging me into the deep end and holding me there until panic sets in.”


Another chuckle and another shake of the head, her bright blue eyes shining as she puts up a single finger as if she’s admonishing Alexandra.

“Here’s the part you don’t understand.”

“I don’t panic. I don’t crack when things get uncomfortable. I don’t fold when the pressure shifts. I don’t need fear to feel honest. You think pressure comes from knowing everything wants to take something from you. You think you’re calm because you’ve made peace with the worst parts of yourself.”

“No.”

“You’re calm because you’ve accepted chaos as an excuse. I’m calm because I trust myself. I don’t need ghosts leaning in close to listen. I don’t need dead men nodding in approval. I don’t need to pretend I’m part of some violent lineage to feel legitimate. I’ve built my legacy in the present, against living, breathing opponents who thought the same things you do. You want to be remembered. I already am. You want to carve your name into history. I’m writing the future. You think this stops being a match and becomes a reckoning.”

“For you, maybe.”


Her mouth twists into an arrogant grin

“For me, it’s just another night where I step into the ring, assess the threat in front of me, and dismantle it piece by piece. No theatrics. No sacrifices. No mythology. Just execution. You can pray the ghosts like you. You can listen to walls that don’t talk. You can convince yourself that this city rewards monsters. But when the bell rings, none of that steps between the ropes with you.”

” do.”

“And when it’s over, when you’re staring up at the lights, listening to the crowd you said didn’t matter, you won’t be thinking about Bugsy Siegel. You won’t be thinking about Vegas. You won’t be thinking about history or destiny or sacrifice. You’ll be thinking about the moment you realized the truth. That you didn’t lose because the city chose me. You didn’t lose because the ghosts turned on you. You didn’t lose because you weren’t dangerous enough. You lost because you needed this. And I didn’t. And that is why I am the Bombshell Roulette Champion.”

“And you never will be.”
94
Supercard Archives / Re: RYAN KEYS v LIAM DAVIS
« Last post by RyanKeys on January 06, 2026, 08:09:39 AM »
Ryan Keys — Week 2

By the time the camera finds him, Ryan Keys is already in uniform.

Not standing still. Not posing. Not waiting to be introduced.

Just… there.

Leaning against a concrete wall somewhere deep in the back of the arena, one boot up, arms loose at his sides, the hum of the building vibrating faintly through the floor. The lights are harsher back here. Less flattering. More honest. The kind of place where things either look like they belong… or they don’t.

Ryan does.

The uniform is clean, fitted, deliberate. Dark pants, polished boots, a vest that looks built for movement, not ceremony. The hat sits right — not sloppy, not stiff. It doesn’t scream costume. It reads like a choice.

He looks at the camera like he’s been expecting it.

“Alright,” he says easily. “Let’s talk about Liam.”

No buildup. No warm-up.

Just the name.

He pushes off the wall and starts walking, slow and unhurried, the camera pacing him.

“Because apparently,” he continues, “he’s the solution.”

A small smile.

“And apparently, I’m the problem.”

He lets that hang for a second, then nods to himself like he’s considering the idea honestly.

“Which is funny. Because from where I’m standing, he looks like a man who’s about to have a very long night.”

The corridor stretches out in front of him, empty at this hour, quiet in that pre-show way where the building feels like it’s holding its breath.

Ryan walks like he owns the silence.

“See, Liam Davis doesn’t walk into a room,” Ryan says. “He arrives with expectations. With posture. With that whole ‘everything should straighten up now’ energy.”

He rolls his shoulders once, loose.

“I don’t.”

He gestures vaguely around him.

“I walk in like the music’s already playing.”

He passes under a light that flickers for half a second, then stabilizes again.

“And that right there?” he says, pointing back at it with his thumb. “That’s basically our entire dynamic.”

He keeps moving.

“Liam believes in control. In lines. In structure. In things staying exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

Ryan’s smile is easy, but there’s a quiet edge under it.

“I believe in momentum.”

He stops walking for a moment, right in the middle of the hallway.

Looks straight into the camera.

“And momentum does not care how tight your grip is.”

He resumes walking.

“Now, somewhere in his head, this match is already very organized. Very clean. Very… procedural. He’s probably got it broken down into steps. Phases. Corrections.”

Ryan chuckles under his breath.

“That’s adorable.”

He turns a corner, the camera following.

“Because here’s the thing about me, Liam.”

He finally says the name like he’s talking to him, not about him.

“You don’t get to schedule me.”

Ryan walks with his hands loose at his sides, no hurry in him at all.

“You don’t get to file me. You don’t get to process me. You don’t get to put me in a box and stamp it ‘handled’ and move on with your night.”

He shakes his head slightly.

“And I think that’s what’s really bothering you.”

He slows his pace, just a little.

“Because this whole story they’re telling? The one where you’re here to restore order and I’m here to be corrected?”

He smiles.

“That only works if I’m interested in being corrected.”

He stops again, this time near a wide, empty stretch of wall covered in old event posters.

“You ever notice,” he says, “how guys like you always talk about discipline like it’s something fragile? Like if you don’t guard it hard enough, something terrible is going to happen?”

He taps the wall lightly.

“Like this whole place is one bad variable away from falling apart.”

He looks back at the camera.

“I am that variable.”

Not a threat. Not a boast.

Just a statement.

“And the funny part?” he adds. “Nothing falls apart.”

He pushes off the wall and keeps walking.

“See, you think you’re coming into this to fix something.”

Ryan shakes his head.

“You’re coming into this to chase something.”

The corridor opens up a bit, the ceiling higher, the sound of the crowd more present now — not loud yet, but alive.

“And you’re not built for chasing.”

He says it without cruelty. Without heat.

Just certainty.

“You’re built for holding. For bracing. For planting your feet and telling the world to behave.”

Ryan glances down at his own boots as he walks.

“I’m built for moving.”

He looks back up.

“And that’s the part you can’t plan for.”

He reaches up and adjusts the brim of the hat, just slightly.

“So yeah. They say you’re here to handle me.”

A small, amused exhale.

“But look at me.”

He spreads his hands a little.

“I’m not hiding. I’m not running. I’m not making this complicated.”

He keeps walking.

“I’m right here.”

The hallway starts to slope toward the arena floor now. You can feel the bass in the concrete.

“And you?” he continues. “You’re going to walk out there thinking tonight is about control.”

Ryan’s smile widens a fraction.

“And I’m going to show you it’s about timing.”

He stops again, right before the last turn.

“This is the part where you’re probably pacing,” he says. “Running it through your head. Telling yourself you’re ready. Telling yourself you’ve seen guys like me before.”

He nods.

“I believe you.”

A beat.

“You’ve never seen me.”

He steps forward again.

“Because I’m not chaos.”

His tone stays light, but there’s something firm under it now.

“I’m what happens after your plan meets a crowd.”

He walks.

“I’m what happens after your structure meets a moment.”

He walks.

“I’m what happens when you realize too late that the situation isn’t getting out of hand…”

He looks at the camera.

“…it’s just getting started.”

They’re very close to the curtain now. The light spills under it. The noise is louder.

Ryan stops one last time.

“And the thing is, Liam,” he says quietly, “I’m not even here to make your night worse.”

He smiles.

“I’m here to make it interesting.”

He taps the front of his vest once.

“They told you you’re the one who’s supposed to handle me.”

A small, dangerous grin.

“But tonight?”

He steps toward the curtain.

“I’m on duty too.”



Ryan steps through the curtain.

The sound hits first. Not a single chant, not a single voice — just that massive, layered wall of noise that only exists when a crowd is fully awake and waiting for something to happen. The light spills across him in a wide, pale wash, and for a second he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t need to.

He stands there like he belongs in the moment, not like he’s borrowing it.

The camera stays on him, not the ring, not the crowd. Ryan turns his head slowly, taking in the space like he’s inspecting a room he already knows he’s going to rearrange.

“See,” he says calmly, almost conversationally, “this is the part you don’t understand, Liam.”

He starts walking down the ramp, unhurried.

“You think environments like this are supposed to be controlled.”

He gestures vaguely to the crowd, the lights, the noise.

“You think this is something you manage. Something you keep inside lines.”

He shakes his head.

“This is something you ride.”

Ryan keeps walking.

“And before you get it twisted — I’m not saying you’re bad at what you do.”

He tilts his head, considering the thought.

“I’m saying you’re very, very good at one specific kind of situation.”

He taps his temple.

“The kind where everything behaves.”

He looks back up, smiling.

“This isn’t that kind.”

He reaches ringside and steps up onto the apron, boots hitting the mat with a soft, solid thud. He doesn’t rush through the ropes. He doesn’t play to the crowd. He just steps in like the ring is another room in a building he already knows.

The camera follows him inside.

Ryan stands in the center of the ring for a moment, hands on his hips, breathing it in.

“Look around,” he says. “None of this is quiet. None of this is neat. None of this is here to be organized.”

He turns slowly, letting the camera catch the sweep of the arena.

“And yet,” he adds, “it works.”

He looks back into the lens.

“Not because somebody tells it to.”

He takes a step.

“Because everybody in here feels it.”

Another step.

“That’s what you’ve spent your whole career trying to turn into a rulebook.”

He stops.

“And that’s what I’ve spent mine learning how to listen to.”

Ryan leans back against the ropes, casual, like he’s got nowhere else to be.

“See, you and me? We’re not actually opposites.”

He smiles at that.

“That’s the funny part.”

He shrugs.

“You care about results. So do I. You care about winning. So do I. You care about being the guy who walks out of here and knows the job is done.”

He nods once.

“Me too.”

He pushes off the ropes.

“The difference is what we think the job is.”

Ryan walks to the center of the ring again.

“You think the job is to impose order.”

He lifts one hand, palm down, pressing it toward the mat.

“Keep it tight. Keep it clean. Keep it controlled.”

He lifts the other hand.

“I think the job is to take whatever’s already here and turn it into momentum.”

He closes his fist.

“Point it.”

He looks at the camera.

“And fire it.”

He paces slowly, like a teacher who doesn’t need the room to be quiet to hold attention.

“You’re going to come into this match thinking you’re the grown-up in the room.”

A small, amused smile.

“That you’re here to show me how this is supposed to work.”

He stops.

“And I’m going to let you try.”

Not mocking. Not cruel.

Confident.

“Because that’s the part nobody ever seems to get.”

He taps his chest.

“I don’t need to prove I belong here. I don’t need to convince anyone that my way works.”

He gestures to the crowd.

“This is already built for me.”

He looks back into the lens.

“You’re the one trying to change the weather.”

Ryan steps up onto the second rope and sits there for a moment, relaxed, elbows on his knees.

“You ever try to tell a storm to calm down?” he asks lightly.

He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t listen.”

He hops down again.

“And that’s what this is going to feel like for you.”

He walks across the ring, unhurried.

“Every time you think you’ve got me measured, something’s going to move.”

He stops.

“Every time you think you’ve got the pace set, it’s going to change.”

He looks straight into the camera.

“And every time you think you’re about to bring things back under control…”

A beat.

“You’re going to realize you’re already reacting.”

Ryan’s smile returns, easy and bright.

“That’s not an insult. That’s just… the game you’re stepping into.”

He walks back to the ropes, resting his forearms on the top rope and looking out at the crowd.

“See, you’re built for pressure,” he says. “But pressure works best when it’s contained.”

He glances back at the camera.

“I’m built for when it leaks.”

He turns back toward center ring.

“And you can call that chaos if you want.”

He shrugs.

“I call it honest.”

Ryan’s tone stays light, but the words are sharp in their own way.

“You’ve spent a long time being the guy who shows up and tells everyone else how it’s supposed to be done.”

He nods.

“Good. Somebody’s gotta do that.”

He smiles again.

“It’s just not going to be me.”

He paces once more, then stops.

“Here’s the part I think is really getting under your skin.”

He tilts his head.

“I’m not trying to beat you at your game.”

He spreads his hands.

“I’m not trying to out-discipline you. I’m not trying to out-grind you. I’m not trying to prove I can be you, but better.”

He looks straight into the lens.

“I’m going to make you play mine.”

He lets that sit for a second.

“And mine doesn’t have a whistle.”

He walks to the corner, leans back into it, arms draped over the top rope.

“You’re going to come in tight,” he says. “Focused. Ready. Everything where it’s supposed to be.”

He nods.

“And I’m going to come in moving.”

He taps the mat with his boot.

“And somewhere in the middle of that, you’re going to realize this isn’t about stopping anything.”

He smiles.

“It’s about keeping up.”

Ryan straightens up and walks back to the center of the ring.

“And here’s the best part.”

He grins.

“I’m not even in a hurry.”

He gestures around the arena.

“This place has all the time in the world.”

He looks back at the camera.

“And so do I.”

He takes a breath, slow and easy.

“They told you you’re here to handle me.”

A small chuckle.

“They told me I’m the thing that needs handling.”

He shakes his head.

“But look at us.”

He spreads his arms slightly.

“You’re the one walking into my rhythm.”

He lowers them.

“And I don’t break mine for anybody.”

Ryan steps closer to the camera.

“See, when this starts going wrong for you — and it will — it’s not going to be because you weren’t prepared.”

He shakes his head.

“It’s going to be because you were prepared for the wrong kind of fight.”

He leans in just a little.

“You’re preparing for a problem.”

He smiles.

“You’re getting a moment.”

He straightens.

“And moments don’t care about your plan.”

He takes a step back.

“They care about who can move inside them.”

Ryan looks around one last time, then back to the camera.

“So go ahead,” he says. “Bring the posture. Bring the rules. Bring the whole ‘I’m here to restore order’ routine.”

He nods.

“I’ll bring the part where it gets interesting.”

He adjusts the brim of his hat, just slightly.

“And don’t worry.”

A grin.

“I’ll make it easy to follow.”

He steps back, letting the camera take him in, standing there in the center of the ring, completely at home.

“After all,” he adds, “if you’re going to try to handle me…”

A beat.

“You should probably get used to chasing.”

He holds the smile for a second longer.

Then the camera cuts.
95
Supercard Archives / Re: KAYLA RICHARDS v BELLA MADISON - HARDCORE MATCH
« Last post by Dreamkiller on January 06, 2026, 07:28:04 AM »
Chapter 79: Proof of Life

I didn’t call him right away.

That was the compromise I made with myself. Not silence. Not refusal. Just distance, long enough for the noise to settle. Long enough to be sure that this wasn’t me reacting to Amber’s calm certainty or Tasmin’s hopeful softness. Long enough to know that if I opened this door, it would be because I chose to, not because I was being pulled through it by guilt or expectation. Because that was the fear, really. Not him.

Expectation.

The quiet pressure that came when everyone else had decided how healing should look. I tried to tell myself I was fine. That I didn’t need anything from him. That my life was stable now in ways it had never been before. I had built something solid out of years of instinctive self-destruction. I had learned how to stop running toward men who mirrored chaos because chaos felt like home. I had learned how to stay. How to trust. How to let myself be loved without bracing for the moment it would turn cruel or conditional.

That mattered. And it scared me. Because stability had made me reflective in ways survival never allowed. It gave my past room to breathe. To stretch. To speak. Amber’s words echoed whether I wanted them to or not. I chose myself. Tasmin’s voice followed close behind, gentler but just as persistent. You don’t have to forgive him to move forward. I hated how reasonable they sounded.

Anger had always been clean. Sharp. Protective. Anger didn’t ask questions. It didn’t second-guess. It kept me upright when everything else felt like it might cave in. But lately, anger felt… heavy. Like armor I no longer needed but didn’t know how to take off without exposing something raw underneath. Eventually, I sent the message. It was short. Controlled. Deliberately unemotional.

If you want to talk, we can meet. Public place. My terms.

I stared at the screen longer than I needed to before hitting send. The response came quickly.

Of course. Anywhere you’re comfortable. Thank you for even considering it.

Thank you.

The words made my stomach tighten. Gratitude felt misplaced. Premature. I didn’t respond. I chose the place instead, a small café far enough from familiarity to feel neutral, close enough to leave quickly if I needed to. Somewhere bright. Somewhere busy. Somewhere I wouldn’t feel trapped by memory. When I arrived, he was already there. He looked even older than before. Sadder than before. More pathetic.

Not weaker. Not smaller. Just… worn in places I didn’t remember. More gray than dark in his hair. Lines around his eyes that spoke of regret more than laughter. His shoulders curved forward slightly, as though years of carrying something unseen had finally begun to show. He stood when he saw me. That, too, surprised me. ”Kayla,” he said. My name sounded strange in his mouth. Familiar, but distant. Like a word I used to know how to answer to.

I didn’t hug him. I didn’t smile. I nodded once and sat down across from him, placing my bag carefully at my feet like an anchor. ”Before we start,” I said, my voice steady in a way that felt unreal, “you need to understand something.” He nodded immediately. Too quickly. Like someone bracing for impact. “This isn’t forgiveness, This isn’t reconciliation. This is a conversation. And I don’t owe you anything beyond that.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not here to ask for anything.” I studied his face, searching for the old tells. The defensiveness. The tendency to fill silence with excuses. I found none. That didn’t comfort me. It only reminded me that people could change their masks without changing what they’d done.

“Good,” I said. “Then listen.” The waitress came by. I ordered coffee, black. I needed something bitter to keep me grounded. When she left, the space between us filled with the kind of silence that hummed instead of screamed. “You left, Not just the house. You left us. And you didn’t just pack up and leave a family that needed you, you packed up and left a family that you destroyed. Your drinking, the violence, Jax was broken, Amber was broken, I was broken, Mom too…Tasmin was too young… but when she got older, it was like a stab to the heart…”

“Yes,” he replied quietly.

“You didn’t protect us. You didn’t stay. You didn’t fight for us. You didn’t try to be better back then….”

“Yes. I know”

No justifications. No attempt to reframe it. My chest tightened despite my efforts to stay detached. “Do you understand what that did?” I asked.

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “I understand some of it. I don’t pretend to understand all of it.”

“Good,” I said, leaning forward. “Because I’m not here to make this easier for you.” I took a breath. Slow. Deliberate. “Your absence didn’t just hurt. It shaped me. It taught me things that took years to unlearn. It taught me that love was unreliable. Those men left. That staying meant enduring damage. So I pushed people away before they could abandon me. I sabotaged relationships before they had the chance to matter. I chose men who were wrong for me because chaos felt familiar. Because part of me believed that if I could survive that, then it was normal.”

His jaw tightened. His hands curled slightly on the table. He didn’t interrupt. “It took me a long time to realize I wasn’t broken,” I continued. “That I was coping. That every bad choice made sense when you traced it back far enough. But it also meant I hurt myself over and over again. Friendships ended. Relationships collapsed. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared too much and didn’t know how to let that be safe.” I met his eyes then. “You didn’t just hurt my childhood. You shaped how I moved through the world as an adult.”

His voice was barely above a whisper. “I know I did.”

The sincerity in it made my throat burn. I hated that reaction. “I’ve met someone now,” I said, forcing myself to continue. “A man who loves me for who I am, not for who he can control, or fix, or outlast. Someone who doesn’t mistake endurance for devotion. And I’m not going to let your shadow take that from me. I won’t destroy something good just to stay loyal to my bullshit past.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said immediately. “You deserve better than that.”

“I know,” I replied. “That’s the difference.” The silence that followed wasn’t hostile. It was heavy. Honest. The kind that demanded accountability without theatrics. “I’m not ready to forgive you,” I said finally. “And I might never be. Forgiveness feels too final. Too neat. And what you did wasn’t.”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t expect forgiveness.”

“But I am willing,” I continued, choosing each word with care, “to give you a chance. Not trust. Not closeness. A chance to prove that you are who you say you are now.”

His breath caught. “Thank you.”

“This chance has boundaries,” I said firmly. “You don’t get access to my life. You don’t get opinions. You don’t get to rewrite the past or minimize it. If you disappear again, that’s it. No explanations. No second or third fucking chances.”

“I understand,” he said. And for the first time, I believed that he truly did.

“This isn’t for you……This is for me. I need to know that letting go of anger doesn’t mean letting go of myself.”

He looked at me then, not with entitlement or nostalgia, but with something like humility. “If that’s all I’m allowed,” he said, “then that’s enough.” That surprised me.

We finished our coffee without saying much else. When we stood, there was no embrace. No gesture toward closeness. Just space, intentional and necessary. As I walked away, I didn’t feel lighter. But I felt intact. I hadn’t forgiven him. I hadn’t absolved him. I hadn’t rewritten history. I had simply allowed myself to step out of the ruins without pretending they never existed. This wasn’t healing. It was proof of life.

Echo

”Is there an echo in here?”

Kayla shakes her head. She’s not wearing the elegant dress that she was last time, instead dressed closer to what we usually see. A black crop top with a leather jacket over that and black jeans.

”It’s almost like I called it, right? What you would say, the attitude that you would have. It’s because you’re predictable, Bella. You are incredibly predictable. You think this is some kind of game with me? Do you think this is something I just do for fun? This is my life. I have said it before and I will say it again: people think that I don’t love this business because I don’t say it very often. So when I do say something like this, you should listen. I love professional wrestling. Not everyone does. Some just look at it as a means to an end or a way to make money, but I love this business. I’ve loved this business since I took my first steps in it. And I wasn’t born into this. Not like you.”

“You were. And you are right, I don’t lie. In fact, there’s something that I’ve pointed out so many times. I don’t lie to my opponents. I don’t lie to fans. I don’t lie to management. When I stand here and I say something, I am always telling the truth. The truth from my perspective, anyway. Some think that that’s cruel and unusual. I just see myself as a realist. Something that you seem to agree with. In fact, you freely admitted that it pisses you off how right I am and how I don’t lie.”

“So tell me, Bella… how much of my truth did you actually listen to?”

“How much are you going to take to heart and actually use? You talk about respect, and you also talk about hating that same respect, and that is one of the first things I’ve heard out of your mouth that makes sense to me. Believe me, there are certain women in this business that I hate that I have respect for. I hate the fact that I had respect for Andrea Hernandez at one point. When she beat me, I applauded her, but my respect was misplaced. Same with Frankie Holiday when she beat me and took that Bombshells Championship from me. I had respect for her. Only for her to piss it all away. So why should I continue giving my respect to anybody when they don’t really earn shit and they constantly disappoint me?”


She pauses and shakes her head, trying to hide her frustration, anger, and disappointment.

”Much like you. You disappoint me, Bella. We are going into this hardcore match, a match with no rules, which will allow me to do whatever I want to your pretty little face, and you are focusing on all the things I’ve said about you in the past. You are talking me up, talking about my championships and what I’ve been able to accomplish, and the fact that I don’t quit. All the while comparing me to you and saying how you want to be that way. Listen, sweetheart, you and I aren’t the same. You were born into this business with a mother and a father who could show you the ropes. You have had every opportunity given to you because of that name, despite the fact that you tried to move away from it in the beginning.”

“But respect is something poisonous. You respect me because you’re too busy looking up at me, and people who look up never land the killing blow. People who are constantly looking up don’t see those standing behind them with daggers ready to stab them in the back. I have eyes on all sides, and you are currently below me, beneath me in talent and status. But I also know that if you had the balls, you would have a dagger at the ready to jab right into my back and take my spot.”

“And if you did that?… shit, I’d respect that…”

“Thing is, you won’t. You can’t. You have completely misunderstood what I’ve been trying to tell you. Yeah, you’re not a big enough bitch. You do care too much about what people think of you, all the while worrying too much about what I think of you. When I say to you that you are almost there, that you’ve almost made it, that you are on the cusp of getting to that next level, I’m not giving you a compliment. You have been ‘a moment away’ for years, which means all that has happened is you’ve gotten louder while standing in the same fucking place.”


She gets to her feet, moving around the room. It seems to be almost the opposite of how it was the first time. Instead of it being bright and Kayla looking like some kind of glamour model, now she is definitely more like herself. The room is dark. She reaches forward, grabbing a glass which is filled with some kind of amber liquid, taking a sip before placing it down and pushing out a deep breath.

”Your life, your entire career, has been built off the word ‘almost.’ Bella is almost a champion, almost ready to become a main event player, almost ready to become like her mother. Almost ready to become like Kayla fucking Richards. But almost is not a legacy. Almost is not what gets you in the record books. And almost isn’t what gets you where you need to be. Imagined crowns do not make you a real queen. Imagined championships don’t make you a champion, and imagined careers don’t make you a legend.”

“I said it, didn’t I? I told you that you were going to go down this route. You want so badly to be me, but you never will be. You are still figuring it out, by your own admission. I don’t figure anything out. I already know. And if you haven’t figured it out by now, if you haven’t finally gotten to the point where you know what it takes to become champion and to do everything that others have, then you never will. You have had every single advantage handed to you, and you haven’t been able to make it work.”

“So you never will.”

“And this match will go a long way to proving that. You can keep on playing the underdog who’s still learning all you want, but if you are still doing this after five years of being in some of the best companies this business has ever seen, then you are either so ignorant that you can’t learn anything that isn’t shoved directly in your face, or you just can’t figure it out and you’re nowhere near as good as you believe yourself to be, or as good as your mother believes you to be. At Inception, you are going to be stepping in the ring with the most dangerous woman on this roster, in a match where there are no rules. A match where I can do whatever I damn well please to you and get away with it. If you are an underdog, if you are still figuring it out, then when we get into the ring, I am going to eat you alive, Bella. You can spend all the time you want looking up to me, because I’ll be looking down at you, broken, ended, where you belong.”
96
Supercard Archives / Re: FIRE & FURY v ZDUNICH SISTERS - WORLD BOMBSHELL TITLE
« Last post by Mercedes Vargas on January 05, 2026, 10:50:19 PM »
Almighty Fire
semana del 4 al 11 de enero 2026

There’s a point in every rivalry where words cut deeper than punches — where respect turns to doubt, and friendship to fire. This weekend, that line gets crossed. The spotlight burns hotter, the stakes climb higher, and loyalties begin to crack under the weight of ambition.

Funny thing about fire — people forget it doesn’t always destroy. Sometimes, it reveals what’s left when everything else burns away. That’s what this weekend is: a reckoning. Everyone’s talking about loyalty and redemption… but me? I’m talking about truth. Because when the smoke clears, only one of us walks out proving she still belongs at the top. The rest? Ashes in my wake.

You know, Crystal, I almost don’t recognize you anymore. The fiery competitor who once demanded the spotlight now sounds like someone drowning in her own excuses. Sad, really. I expected better from the record six-time World Bombshell Champion — the one who claimed to carry the division — but here you are, turning a title defense into a soap opera.

You call me your best friend, your sister in arms. You say I was there when no one else believed in you. I believed when everyone else laughed. And you’re right — I did believe in you. I was in your corner when the world turned its back. I saw something in you that others didn’t — a warrior who refused to quit. But lately, the only thing I see is someone who’s let emotions cloud her judgment. Friendship doesn’t mean I’ll look away when I see weakness. I didn’t push you to break; I pushed you to rise. There’s a difference — one you used to understand.

And now you point fingers, say I’m part of the reason you and Seleana fell apart, that I’ve changed since losing the Bombshell Internet title, that somehow, envy drives me now. Maybe that’s easier to believe than the truth: the weight you’re feeling isn’t pressure; it’s fear. Fear of being the target every champion becomes. When you know every woman in this company — even the one standing next to you — wants it.

Let’s get one thing straight, mamita — I don’t need to ride your coattails. I don’t need your title to validate who I am. Mercedes Vargas is a name that stands on its own. My resume speaks for itself: the reigns, the records, the legacy. But I’m not blind either. You’ve got that belt, and whether you like it or not, Crystal, you’re the hunted. That’s the price of being champion — and deep down, I think you know you can’t handle it.

You think I’m attacking you? No. I’m challenging you. Because somewhere beneath the guilt and noise, the real Crystal Hilton is still there. I just want to see if she can still fight.

You talk about being “addicted” to Seleana, about wanting her back, about proving something to her. That’s cute. But when that bell rings, none of that matters. In the ring, love stories become submission holds, sweet words become sharp elbows, and fairy tales turn into wake-up calls. I don’t care if it’s your wife, her sister-in-law, or your reflection standing across from us — I’m not walking into Inception to play therapist. I’m walking in to win.

If that means preventing Seleana and Zenna from pinning you — then so be it. Because let’s be honest, Crystal — the only thing holding that team together is nostalgia and denial.

You may not see it, but Seleana’s been treading water for years — not sinking, not swimming, just drifting. Too decent to disappear, too dull to matter. She isn’t competition anymore — she’s what’s left when you lose your edge and start grasping at what used to work. She’s fallen off a cliff these past few years, and those eight years in SCW tell the same story — a name on the roster, not a threat in the ring.

And that’s the harsh truth, isn’t it? Longevity doesn’t equal legacy — not when all she’s done is stand still while the division moved on without her. I’ve spent thirteen years setting the bar in SCW; Seleana’s spent eight trying to reach it. Even her Bombshell World Title and Roulette Championship reigns feel like distant memories now — proof that she had her moment, but couldn’t make it last. She isn’t feared; she’s remembered — and that’s worse.

Seleana’s had your number in every singles match the two of you have ever had — three times, to be exact — and that’s exactly why she holds power over you now. And that stings, doesn’t it? You don’t want to admit it, but part of you knows those losses changed you. They made you question if you were still the star everyone believed you wereYou talk about love and redemption, but what you really want is to erase the one person who keeps proving you can be beaten. That’s not rivalry, that’s obsession — and she’s been living rent-free in your head for years.

That’s who you’re defending, Crystal. Not the fighter she was… but the comfort she gives you now. Your wife hasn’t posted a winning record since 2019, hasn’t held championship gold in five years, and hasn’t tasted the World Title scene since that same year.

You call that competition? I call it complacency. And yet, that’s who you’ve hitched your redemption story to.

You can blame me, you can blame Seleana, you can even blame destiny if that helps you sleep. But when Fire & Fury torches Wild Side, remember this: you invited the fire.

You told me not to make it personal. Too late. It's already personal. Because I still care enough to bring out the best in you — even if it breaks what’s left of us.

I told you before — I don’t break friendships, I expose weaknesses. And at Inception, the world will see the truth. Crystal, you’re not the same woman who once defined this division. You’re the one clinging to what’s left of her glory while I stand ready to claim it again. When the bell rings, remember — we asked for this.

And when Fire & Fury burns Wild Side to the ground, you’ll see that I wasn’t your downfall… I was your reminder of what greatness looks like.

So keep clinging to love and redemption if that helps you sleep at night. But when the lights hit, I’ll be right there — reminding you that respect, loyalty, and friendship all take a back seat to victory.

And when it’s all over… you’ll finally understand why Mercedes Vargas doesn’t follow legacies.

I create them.


~~~

INT. “THE FLOATING PENALTY BOX” – MORNING

[The sign hangs crooked over a galley window. Inside, the fry station hums like a jet engine. Hugo flips something unidentifiable on the griddle. Mercedes leans on the counter, sipping cold coffee.]

MERCEDES:
Remind me again why our restaurant has life vests hanging instead of menus?

[Hugo straightens, proudly waving a spatula like a conductor’s baton.]

HUGO:
Theme, Mercedes. Authenticity! Diners eat “danger with a dash of dill.”

[A wave rocks the boat. A pickle jar rolls off the counter.]

MERCEDES:
Yeah, nothing says “fine dining” like motion sickness.

[Irma storms in, clipboard in hand, her hair already frizzing from humidity.]

IRMA:
Okay, people, inspection day. If we fail again, the city pulls our dock permit.

[Below deck, Tomas’s voice echoes through the floorboards.]

TOMAS:
Maybe if you stop calling it a “dock permit” like it’s parole, they’ll take us seriously.

[He climbs up holding a wrench and a half-eaten donut. Ricardo follows.]

RICARDO:
We’d pass inspection easier if the floor wasn’t listing like a bad relationship.

TOMAS:
It’s a boat. Tilting is part of its charm.

HUGO:
Charm doesn’t pay bills. Customers keep asking if seasickness bags are complimentary.

[Mercedes smirks, crossing her arms.]

MERCEDES:
They should be — it’s the only takeaway we offer that’s actually free.

[Another wave rocks the hull. Pots rattle somewhere below.]

INT. KITCHEN AREA — CONTINUOUS

[Irma checks the ice machine, frowning as it sputters dramatically.]

IRMA:
This machine’s older than my parents’ marriage.

RICARDO:
So, unreliable and leaking?

IRMA:
Exactly.

[She slams it shut. Water splashes onto her shoes.]

MERCEDES:
Don’t worry. That’s purified ocean water now. Eco-friendly.

[Tomas appears behind her, wiping grease from his hands.]

TOMAS:
If the inspector asks, tell him it’s a “nautical vibe.”

HUGO:
Or tell him it’s performance art. That always confuses them long enough for me to finish cooking.

[Mercedes peers at his skillet suspiciously.]

MERCEDES:
Cooking what, exactly?

[She peers at the skillet. It looks suspiciously like an oil slick. Hugo grins proudly.]

HUGO:
Today’s special: “Mystery Marine Meat.”

RICARDO:
That’s not a name, that’s a lawsuit.

EXT. DECK — MIDDAY

[The crew sets up patio tables on the uneven deck. Seagulls hover greedily overhead. Tomas struggles with an umbrella that refuses to stay upright.]

TOMAS:
This place will take off, he says. We’ll be legends, he says. Floating cuisine — it’s revolutionary, he says.

IRMA:
So was the Titanic.

MERCEDES:
At least they had music while going down. We’ve got Hugo.

[HUGO strums a ukulele he found in lost‑and‑found. It’s decisively out of tune.]

HUGO:
It’s all part of the ambiance — live music, sea breeze, mild panic.

RICARDO:
You’re one bad chord away from summoning dolphins for help.

[A tourist cautiously climbs aboard wearing a sun hat and uncertainty.]

CUSTOMER:
Uh… is this place safe?

[Mercedes flashes a smile.]

MERCEDES:
Define “safe.”

[Irma waves energetically, ushering the woman to a table.]

IRMA:
Ignore her. Of course it’s safe! We haven’t sunk once this week.

[Tomas swoops in enthusiastically.]

TOMAS:
Please, sit! Try the house special — whatever Hugo hasn’t burned yet.

[The customer sits uneasily. Mercedes forces a smile and hands her a laminated menu warped by humidity.]

INT. GALLEY — MOMENTS LATER

[Mercedes slips beside Hugo, keeping her voice low.]

MERCEDES:
Cook something normal. No experiments, no “seaweed soufflé.”

HUGO:
Fine. Normal it is. What’s more normal than “boat tacos”?

[Ricardo cranes his neck from the hallway.]

RICARDO:
Boat tacos?

HUGO:
Tacos… cooked on a boat. Branding, baby.

[Irma crosses her arms and glares.]

IRMA:
Branding or brain damage — fine line there.

[The line breaks them — everyone bursts laughing as Hugo shrugs innocently.]

EXT. DECK — LATER

[The tourist eats cautiously while the gang hovers nearby, nervous hosts waiting for a verdict.]

CUSTOMER:
It’s… crunchy. Is that supposed to happen?

[Hugo nods earnestly.]

HUGO:
Yes! That’s the… sea salt crust.

[Mercedes whispers an aside without losing her smile.]

MERCEDES:
Translation: overcooked tortilla.

CUSTOMER:
I’ll take two more.

[Everyone freezes.]

IRMA:
Wait — you like it?

CUSTOMER:
It’s unique. Like eating a sunset.

[They exchange stunned glances of disbelief. Tomas beams in triumph.]

TOMAS:
See! Legends in the making!

[A loud HONK cuts him off. A small patrol boat glides up — the health inspector stands aboard wielding a clipboard like divine judgment.]

EXT. DOCKSIDE — CONTINUOUS

[The group stumbles into nervous formation as the inspector climbs aboard.]

INSPECTOR:
Afternoon! Health Department! We’re here for your unscheduled review.

[Everyone panics just enough to look guilty.]

[Mercedes mutters under her breath.]

MERCEDES:
Unscheduled review — my favorite horror movie.

[Hugo steps forward with blinding confidence, plate in hand.]

HUGO:
You’re in luck! Free samples from our head chef — me.

[He offers a boat taco. The inspector eyes it suspiciously, takes a nibble, and pauses mid‑chew.]

INSPECTOR:
That’s… surprisingly good. Slightly burnt, but good.

[Each of them exhales at once — silent victory.]

INSPECTOR:
Now, structural safety check.

[He steps forward. The deck groans, a nail pops loose. Ricardo reacts instantly.

RICARDO:
That’s our alarm system! Keeps gulls away.

IRMA:
And inspectors!

[The nervous laughter buys them time while Hugo hums faux elevator music.]

INT. GALLEY — MINUTES LATER

[The team huddles in the cramped kitchen like conspirators.]

TOMAS:
If we survive this, drinks on me.

MERCEDES:
If we don’t, I’m haunting you, captain.

HUGO:
Relax — the inspector looks happy!

[They peek through the door. The inspector wipes sauce from his chin, looking content.]

INSPECTOR:
I’ll give you folks a conditional pass. Fix the deck, label your fridge contents, and… for the love of God, stabilize the bathrooms.

[Tomas thrusts his wrench skyward.]

TOMAS:
Conditional pass! That’s practically a trophy.

[Everyone cheers. The inspector departs. They slump in exhausted celebration.]

EXT. DECK — SUNSET

[Golden light floods the floating restaurant. The gang sits around a mismatched table, clinked coffee mugs together.]

RICARDO:
We did it. “The Floating Penalty Box” lives another day.

IRMA:
Barely. But hey, improvement — no electrical fires today!

HUGO:
And one paying customer. Technically two, if you count the inspector.

MERCEDES:
I’m counting every soul brave enough to climb aboard.

TOMAS:
So what’s next for our maritime empire?

[Mercedes looks out toward the setting sun.]

MERCEDES:
Simple. We survive tomorrow. Then the week. Then maybe, just maybe, make rent.

[They laugh. The boat rocks gently under the fiery sky.]

[The boat rocks lazily. Hugo raises his mug again, ever the optimist.]

HUGO:
Hey, if this thing ever sinks, at least we’ll finally have a poolside restaurant.

RICARDO:
You mean pool‑in restaurant.

[Groans all around.]

IRMA:
Still better than “Mystery Marine Meat.”

MERCEDES:
Alright, team — same chaos tomorrow?

ALL:
Always!

[Mercedes laughs and stands to raise her cup higher than the rest.]

MERCEDES:
To The Floating Penalty Box — unsinkable, unprofitable, unforgettable.

[A wave hits, splashing coffee everywhere.]

HUGO:
Unsinkable, huh?

MERCEDES:
Shut up and grab a bucket, captain.

[The crew bursts into laughter as water drips from the ceiling.]

[END.]

~~~

Present Day ♦ L A S V E G A S • N E V A D A

[REC•]

[A panoramic view of the Las Vegas Strip explodes behind floor-to-ceiling windows. Neon lights pulse like veins — electric red, gold, and white streak across Mercedes Vargas’s outline as she sits in a black chair, centered in front of the skyline. The city hums below: slot machines, faint laughter, passing sirens, the low grind of traffic. A single desk lamp casts a muted circle of light around her. She sits still — calm, composed — folding her arms.]

"You know, it’s funny... I actually planned on spending this week relaxing before Inception. Maybe a spa day, maybe a beach in Buenos Aires."

[She tilts her head, letting her voice linger a beat before she looks directly into the lens.]

“Maybe shut off my phone, step away — but somehow, it still finds me.”

[A dry smile crosses her lips as the neon flickers over her face.]

"Apparently, I can’t even have a quiet week before Inception without my feed getting flooded by the Zdunich sisters — crying, screaming, blaming me for everything wrong in their lives. It’s almost sad how predictable it’s become lately."

[She laughs quietly, the sound short and razor-sharp.]

"So this is what it’s come to. A family feud in the middle of my match — the Zdunich Family Circus live at Inception. Crystal defending the World Bombshell Championship, Seleana and Zenna trying to save face. Instead of challengers, we’ve got a therapy session."

[She tilts her head slightly, mock sympathy flashing in her eyes to match her tone.]

"Seleana, you’ve been replaying the same speech for years now. Everyone’s against you, everybody’s trying to break up your perfect family, and somehow I’m supposed to be the villain."

[She shakes her head slowly.]

"Sweetheart, I don’t need to tear your family apart. You’re doing that just fine on your own."

[The faint reflection of casino lights dances across her cheek as she chuckles under her breath. She leans forward, elbows planted on her knees. Her gaze hardens.]

"For most of your eight-year career in Sin City Wrestling, you’ve made an exceptional career out of playing the victim. Every loss has an excuse, every mistake a scapegoat — and somehow, it always circles back to me. It’s poetic, really. Like watching a car crash in slow motion and knowing they’ll blame you for standing there. You call me a liar? A snake? Say that I’m obsessed with you?"

[She gestures dismissively before pointing toward the camera.]

"There is nothing about you that keeps me up at night. You’re just… convenient. A walking example of wasted potential that people like me have to keep stepping over.

[Mercedes rises, pacing deliberately toward the window — her reflection fractured in the glass.]

"If I’m obsessed, querida, it’s only with winning — something you seem allergic to when it actually matters. You’ve had more second chances than most people get careers, and every time, when the lights are on and the title’s on the line, you choke."

[Her brow arches.]

"But sure, blame Mercedes Vargas. It’s easier than facing the mirror."

[Her smirk fades, eyes narrowing.]

"But let’s not pretend I didn’t hear what you said. And you know what? I felt it. For a second, I almost believed the emotion in your voice. Almost."

[She blinks once, slowly.]

"Then I remembered — that’s all it is. Emotion. Theatrics. Performance."

[A step closer to the lens now — the edges of her face half-lit, the rest falling into shadow.]

"All that venom because what — I told the truth about you and Crystal? You think you scare me, Sarabi? You think because you finally found your voice, it changes the fact that you’re soft like Charmin?"

[She steadies her breath and lowers her tone.]

"It doesn’t. You’re still the same woman who crumbles whenever life gets heavy."

[Her reflection in the glass trembles slightly with the flicker of passing headlights from the Strip. Mercedes stands now, face inches from the lens, her tone growing sharper with each word.]

"And Zenna? I almost forgot you existed until you started screaming my name like it was supposed to scare me."

[The faintest trace of a laugh escapes her.]

"You can curse me out in Swedish all you want; I still hear the insecurity dripping off every word.

[She points slightly toward the camera, her stance unyielding.]

"You talk about me being "insecure" while you’re fighting your sister-in-law’s battles because she can’t win them herself.That’s rich.

[Mercedes straightens her posture, letting the fury surface beneath her controlled tone.]

"You think calling me insecure or poor is going to rattle me? I’ve walked through wars, championships, and generations of so-called "icons" who all thought they were going to be the one to end me. You won’t be any different."

[She tilts her head, letting the fury take full form now.]

"You call me fake, call me cold, call Fire and Fury “bullshit”? No, sweetheart. What’s bullshit is pretending your family’s drama belongs anywhere near that ring. You two aren’t fire and fury — you’re smoke and mirrors. I’m the only one in this match who’s never needed to hide behind someone else’s shadow — wife, sister, champion, whatever label you’re wearing today."

[She stops at the camera, standing nose-close to the lens.]

"You want to talk about ending me? I’ve survived everyone this company’s thrown at me. I’ve watched careers die, titles change hands, entire divisions rebuilt — and I’m still here. You two are a moment. I’m the legacy. You don’t end me. You can’t."

[Mercedes points into the camera, venom lacing every word.]

"But if you still want to try, fine. At Inception, I’ll remind both of you what you seem to forget. You can hate me, scream my name in three different languages, throw every curse word you know. None of it changes the outcome that’s already written. When the bell rings at Inception, I’m the same woman I always am — calculating, patient, dangerous — and when it’s over, I’ll still be standing next to the World Bombshell Champion."

[She brushes a speck of imaginary dust from her shoulder. The smile is understated, victorious before the fight even begins.]

"Because no Zdunich — not a wife, not a sister, not a savior — is taking that title away. Not from Crystal. Not from me."

[Mercedes whispers softly, eyes cutting like glass.]

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

***[FADE]***
97
Supercard Archives / “New Year, New Champion?”
« Last post by Harper Mason on January 05, 2026, 05:06:37 PM »
While Harper’s rematch against Victoria for the latter’s Bombshell Internet Championship was made official at the Christmas Special Harper ended up entering the Holidays with a hospital stay as Victoria and Darian brutally attacked her and Joshua Acquin respectively with pens, leading to Victoria signing Harper’s name on the contract in blood.

Whether or not a contract signed in blood was legally binding was a matter for another time as Harper was kicking off 2026 as Victoria’s first Bombshell Internet Champion of the Year and at the first PPV of the year to boot! Can Harper repeat history?

Local convenience store, Las Vegas, Nevada
Thursday the 1st of January 2026, 14:00pm

If I can sum up 2025 in general one thing comes to mind: it was a year of contradictions.

I inarguably had my career high thus far when I dethroned Victoria Lyons to win the Bombshell Roulette Title at Summer XXXTreme a few months back, that goes without saying, but at the same time? that reign ended at Alicia Lukas’s hands at Violent Conduct, my quest to take the Bombshell Internet Title from Mercedes Vargas hit a snag when Victoria inserted herself into the match by attacking me at the Halloween Show and won the Bombshell Internet Title from Mercedes in the process and, well, I ended the year by being stabbed repeatedly with a pen before my blood was used to sign the contract for this title bout.

And yeah, I’ve been debating about asking the family lawyer if contracts written in blood are legally binding, mostly for the look on her face, but it got us over the finish line at least! Just ignore the fact that I spent Christmas Eve with Joshua at a local hospital getting stitches removed.


As of right now? I’m doing something I’m surprised I didn’t do sooner, namely buy alcohol. wine specifically, after all I turned twenty one back in September so I am old enough to buy alcohol! I just never got around too it and I felt like using it in my cooking tonight so here I am.

And as I approached the checkout the cashier, an admittedly cute redhead in her early thirties, greeted me with a polite smile.

“Hi there!” She greeted me as I put the items down on the counter. “Planning a party or something?”

”Nah, wanted to cook with alcohol and I didn’t have any at home.” I responded as I reached into my jacket pocket to get my purse out. ”After I spent a good half hour googling which wines are good for cooking.”

“Yeah well, there is just one thing.” The cashier responded as she held out a hand and I quickly realized what she meant. “Gonna need ID.”

Should’ve seen this coming since I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve been mistaken for a teenager. ”Yeah, no problem, just give me a sec.” I added before handing her my wresting license. ”Guess I’m going to have to get used to……….”

“Yeah sorry, I can’t sell you this wine.” She interrupted me and I blinked a few times as her words sett in. “Twenty one, yeah right!”

”What do you mean?” I asked with a confused look on my face. ”That’s my wrestling licence, I work for Sin City Wrestling, how is that fake?”

“Look, I didn’t ask for you to give me your employment details.” She responded as she shook her head. “But there’s no way you can tell me that you…………..were…………..” I could pinpoint the exact moment realization hit her and she realized that yes, I was born in 2004. “CYNDY, TAKE OVER MY TILL!”

She stormed off, leaving my ID behind as a woman closer to my age approached and she presumably went into the back to scream internally. “Sorry about Rachel, she’s still coming to grips with the fact that there are people younger than her favorite albums buying alcohol.” Cyndi commented before looking at my ID. “And yeah, this checks out, though I’m surprised you didn’t ask Josh to help with this Harper/”

”Eh, wanted an excuse to get out the house.” I shrugged in response before taking my ID back and paying for the items. ”Will she be okay?”

“Once she finishers existential crises? Yeah.” Cyndi shrugged and I grinned. “Good luck against Victoria.”

”Thanks!” I responded before I left the store.

Harpin’ On With Harper, Harper’s Loft, Las Vegas, Nevada
Thursday the 1st of January 2026, 21:00pm

*on camera, start vlog, promo part one*

The new year may be upon us but my focus is purely on this rematch with Victoria, same as when I faced her for the Bombshell Roulette Title at last year’s Summer XXXXTreme and hopefully? I can make lightning strike twice!

”You know what’s not fun? Getting stabbed in the forehead with a pen days before Christmas and then having your blood used to sign that contract!” I grunted before holding up my bangs to show the stitches in my forehead. ”Especially with my siblings in the crowd! But look, there’s one thing that I’m not here to do when it comes to Victoria and that’s debate whether or not contracts signed in blood are legally binding!

Did I seriously just say that out loud?!”
I sighed as I shook my head. ”Anyway, what I am here to do is repeat history, because after Inception VIII Victoria? Your Bombshell Internet Title reign will be a footnote in Sin City Wresting’s hsyory!”

Yep.

”Victoria you claim I’m a hypocrite because I inserted myself into the Internet Title Match when interrupted yourself indulgent celebration but I at least did it in a way that didn’t involve you needing medical attention! The only reason you’re the champ is because you were terrified of being forgotten!” I added as I leaned back in my chair. ”Well. that and there was one other reason.

I called you out on your bussjit and you couldn’t stand it!”
I added as I brushed some hair over my shoulder. ”And next week? I will see that justice is delivered! Just don’t shoot the messenger when you don’t like the packages contents!””

Which might happen.

”Then again you might just do that anyway because you think the world revolves around you!” I stated as I shook my head. ”Why else would you put on that celebration? Well, here’s what separates us Victoria, when I beat you for the title next week? I will anticipate someone trying to ruin my day. Especially if that someone is you!”

*end vlog*

Josh’s Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Sunday the 4th of January 2026, 14:00pm

I’d be lying if I said that the first week of the year has been a busy one.

Josh has literally just reopened his gym for the year and Hero Academy won’t be opening up until tomorrow morning, the Go Gym? No clue, right now the only Go Gym Graduates on the roster are Logan, Brooke and Carter.

For obvious reasons? I don’t talk with the first two, but Carter? I chat with him on Social Media and my loft once belonged to him (though he’d be the first to tell you that that was not a good time in his life to say the least) but we just don’t chat that much! Cassie’s the closest thing I have to an ally from the Go Gym because her older sister Krystal graduated from the school right before the pandemic and she has been mistaken for a Go Gym Graduate in the past but yeah, you get the idea.

In other words. I’m getting my training in whenever I can, though because of the holidays I’ve had to do some light training, that changes today though.

”Happy New Year Josh.” I commented as I entered the gym and my manager/Hall of Famer Joshua Axquin greeted me with a nod. ”Well, belated new year since we’re four days into 2026.”

“Look at it this way, it’ll be December before we know it.” Josh responded as he continued to get things set up. “And you’ll be making store clerks feel old at the age of twenty two!”

”I’ve only made one store clerk feel old since turning twenty one!” I protested while holding up a single finger for emphasis. ”And it was a new girl at the store I regularly shop at! Not my fault I got carded because I still look eighteen!”

“True, and I know you said that you wanted an excuse to get out the house but even so, you could just ask me next time.” Josh reminded me and I just shook my head. “Hopefully you’ll be looking twenty eight by the time your thirty one!”

”God I hope so! I don’t want to think about the creepy comments I’d get about me being a thirty something woman who still looks like a teenager!” I shuddered at the mere thought of that. ”Not to mention the strongly worded letter I’d be sending to god about that! Anyway, what’s on the agenda?”

“For today? Just some warmups to get you back into the groove now that the Christmas Break has ended.” Josh responded as he motioned to the ring. ”And you’re your upcoming title match? We’ll kick things into high gear starting tomorrow.”

”Sounds good, let’s get started!” I responded before I rolled into the ring to get started.

Harpin’ On With Harper, Josh’s Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Sunday the 4th of January 2026, 16:00pm

*on camera, start vlog, final promo part*

As I got ready for my last word on this match with Victoria I had a few things on my mind.

”I’m sure your mind was made up about me being a hypocrite long ago Victoria, or more specifically when I interrupted your own self-indulgent celebration after High Stakes!” I started as I leaned on the ring ropes with my arms. ”After all, the only one allowed to insert themselves into a title picture is you, right? I must be the modern day Jessie Salco or something, I mean hell I’m related by blood to her!

Oh wait, I forgot, the title of modern day Jessie Salco actually belongs to you.”
I said as I shook my head with a chuckle. ”But say what you will about my older cousin, she never attacked a challenger to get in a title match that was already booked, she had other underhanded methods as well but at the Halloween special you crossed a line Jessie never crossed!”

Oh the irony.

”And here’s another difference while I’m at it, Jessie got obsessed with titles because she was chasing the validation of being a Grand Slam Champion, you got obsessed with titles because you feared being irrelevant without one.” I added before walking to the centre of the ring. ”And I’m sure the fact that your first non-title Supercard Match since your debut being a thrown together match with Candy had nothing to do with it!

At least Jessie was always honest about her motives rather than lie about them at every turn.”
I stated as I shook my head. ”What I’m getting at Victoria is that for all your talk about being a queen and the rightful champion, your insecurities make you the modern day Jessie Salco, just from North Carolina rather than Miami and say what you will about Florida, at least people want to vacation there which can’t be said for North Carolina!”

It’s that simple.

”I mean honestly, what even is there to do in North Carolina?!” I asked before folding my arms. ”All that aside Victoria? The last time we faced off in a one on one title match it saw the end of your Roulette Title Reign and at Inception VII next Sunday I will repeat history when I end yet another reign of yours! Last time I was determined to end your Roulette Title Reign and free the Bombshell Roulette Division from your iron grip, this time?

I’m focussed on stopping a super long reign before it can even start!”
I stated as I smirked at the camera. ”New Year, New Champion? Sounds good to me and bad for you, in other words? Sounds perfect!”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”And trust me Victoria, whenever you go out of your way to make my life difficult? I’ll be right there to bite back!” I stated as I flipped some hair over my shoulder. ”And unlike your pet Darian? My bite is worse than my bark and I’ll prove it at Inception VIII because the last thing the world needs is you having an iron grip on a title for another year, what it needs is a new hero and I will fulfil that promise as “The Slaytanic Avenger” Harper Mason! See you next Sunday Victoria!”

Josh turned off the camera as the scene fades.
98
Supercard Archives / Re: FRANKIE HOLLIDAY v AMELIA REYNOLDS
« Last post by Frankie Holliday on January 03, 2026, 11:58:43 PM »
I have sucked the past few weeks. Months even.

Maybe it's depression.
Maybe it's the fact that I was touching it and then it was right through my fingers.
Maybe it's the realization of the fight I am fighting.

It could be a number of things. I'm not a doctor, but hey this is where we say "new year, new me?" and stuff and then we break those resolutions in about a week.

But it's okay, I'll keep being the bad guy. I'll keep telling the truth whether people want to hear it or not.

I enjoy it.

But anyway, what a year 2025 was huh?
Did you guys get what you wanted for Christmas?

Well, sometimes we just don't get what we want, do we?

Sometimes, you just have to take it.

And a lot of the time, it's better that way.

I can tell you about my favorite Christmas.

Won't you join me?




“Are you recording me?”

I asked as Levi had taken the phone out of the box and was obviously playing with it.

“Sure. Why not? I wanna see your reaction to the presents.”

I rolled my eyes and picked up a present. It was light in my hands.

“Clothes, most likely.” I ventured the guess.

“Open it.”

I sighed and ripped up the wrapping paper. The cardboard gift box came open and sure enough, it was clothes.

“I told you.”

“Let’s see.”

I reached in and pulled some of the items out.

“Baby clothes?”

They were indeed for a small child. I shrugged and tossed the box and clothes aside. There were still quite a few gifts under the tree.

One wasn’t even wrapped. No time, I guess. You know, sometimes the holidays are stressful. It was a big blanket of some kind, but when I unfolded it, it was a tapestry. “From Daughter to Dad.”

“Aww… that’s really cute. I’m sure he’d love that.”

“Hey, this one’s Pokemon cards.”

Levi held up a binder with one of them, I didn’t know and still don’t know to this day what Pokemon is what.

 I took one, a smaller one, it fit in the palm of my hand. I shook it, and tossed it to Levi. He caught it and tore off the wrapping paper and opened the small Samsung box.

“This is a watch. Like, I think one of those… What do they call them… smart watches? Yeah, a smart watch.”

“Nice.”

He shrugged and then looked up at me.

“You want it?”

“Sure. Why not?”

He tossed the watch back to me and I fit the watch around my wrist. I spent the next few minutes going through the instructions, which sometimes can be the damnedest things. I got it to work, but needed to link it up with my phone at one point or another to get to work as intended.

*Thunk*

It was the sound of a car door. Levi and I looked at each other.

“I wonder who that could be.” I said as Levi put his finger over his mouth and lips, the general “Shh” motion. We crept out of sight as footsteps approached the door and a gentle knock followed. And then the door was opened. But it was a normal, unbothered opening of the door. Whomever was coming in wasn’t aware.

“Hello? John? Debra? It’s Beth and Kara!” One woman called out.

“Mom? Dad?” The second woman’s voice called out a few seconds later.

“What the hell happened?”

They were walking through, obviously, we had made a mess.

 Levi and I looked at each other and we wore matching sly grins.

“The more the merrier, right?” Levi said with a soft chuckle reaching into his pocket. I reached into mine and Levi held up his index finger. We both slid the ski masks over our faces. Levi raised his middle to join the index, and we both pulled the pistols from our pockets.

When the ring finger joined… We burst out, guns pointed.

“Merry Christmas!”



We had spent a few weeks preparing for this. We had Levi's… or I guess what was then Levi’s car around Los Angeles. We scoped out quite a few places in the city, but all of them were in way too much of a public area. You do the job, and then boom, people are on you right away. This was no good. And we had just been in the hills, so the idea was very simple. We needed a place more rural. Ones off the beaten path so that we could get in and do what we needed to do, and there wouldn’t be much interference or people to get in the way.

We drove around and found ourselves out into more of the farm and rural areas. We started to check the traffic in the area. It was outside L.A. and more towards San Diego. It wasn’t that far of a drive, and it was out of the way. Those two lane roads with one house in the middle of nowhere.

It looked nice from the outside. A big long driveway offered all the space, and lots of empty land in the background. We casually observed the family coming and going. A nice older couple who were out every day tending their gardens and crops. They hung a wreath on the door to observe the holidays. They even went on long walks together. Such a love couple.

For a few days leading up to Christmas, they were just in the house all day.

“You don’t think they’re going to leave on Christmas day, do you?”  Levi asked a couple days before.

“They haven’t left in a couple of days. Maybe they’re good.”

And just like that, they went on their long walk.

We walked up to the house, peeking in windows, and checking doors. We never saw them ever check the doors, and sure enough, around the back, the back door was unlocked. Folks this secluded seldom worried about someone coming in. Who would come all the way out in the middle of nowhere just to break in?

I know, right?

So, we watched the couple of days before Christmas and every day, at the same time, they went for a walk. They were gone for about an hour. Plenty of time to get in and see what’s what.

No one ever really showed up the entire time we were watching. We figured this was going to be fairly easy. Levi had multiple guns so it was easy for him to lend me one. It was more effective than a knife for intimidation purposes. We even went out into the woods and shot some targets, and then went to a Wal-Mart where they readily sell ammo.

This stuff is so easy to get, you know?
God bless America.

So, on Christmas morning, we woke up and sure enough, that morning walk started. We made our move. We walked up, and once again, the back door, unlocked. Didn’t even need to pick it or break a window.

They had plenty of presents. Like holy shit a lot. We decided to help ourselves.

But things sometimes don’t go as expected.


“Who the - “

“Shut up.”

Levi pointed the gun right in one of their faces. There were screams and panic. And then another set of footsteps. I turned as Levi kept his gun trained on the two in the room. Coming up the stairs into the main hall, an elderly woman.

“Kara, are you -”

I pointed the gun at her.

“Hello grandma. Please, come in. Let’s all have a seat on the couch.”

She nearly had a heart attack I think. She was so startled she lost her breath.

Yeah, we don’t have time for that. I pushed her to move to the couch. The other two were seated, huddled together but the Grandma remained standing hunched over and clutching her chest.

“What… wha..what do you want?” One of them blurted out through tears.

Levi and I looked at one another, shrugging.

“Maybe… my face on the one dollar bill?” Levi joked. “Nah, I’m just kiddin’. I want your money, obviously.”

“Okay. P-please just take it and go. Just please don’t hurt us!”

The women on the course emptied their purses and all in all we got about 100 bucks. Grandma was holding out.

“Okay Grandma, it’s your turn.”

She had finally gotten her breath. She paused, looking at both of us for a few seconds and stood there, defiantly. She was almost glaring at us. Can you believe that? This lady was crazy. Just giving us shit now.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not giving you anything.”

Levi looked at me with that “Can you believe this shit?” gestures. He pointed his gun at her head, but still, she stood there, almost welcoming it.

“Looks like Grandma wants to be a hero. Well hot damn. You know, I was thinking that this may be a little easier than this, but, it’s okay, I welcome a challenge.”

Without warning, Levi flipped the pistol around and *whack* One shot, right to the face. Grandma hit the floor really hard, groaning in pain. There were screams from the other women, but I flashed the gun in their direction.

“Don’t be a hero for Grandma either.”

Levi reached down and snatched the purse and pulled out a couple hundred dollars. He sighed and threw the purse down on the old woman.

“That could have been so much easier. Now, unfortunately, we’re running out of time. So, we might need a hostage. But, we really only have room for one of you.”

The women looked at each other concerned.

“It’s a logistical issue. Just not enough room.” I clarified.

“So, maybe, maybe we just take one, so… which is gonna be?”

The two women on the couch looked at each other and then at the Grandma. They were terrified and unable to make the choice. Levi was getting impatient.

“If you can’t make the choice I will. For one of you, you get to come along. If you hesitate much longer, it’ll be the end of the road.”

They panicked. But suddenly, Grandma burst up and grabbed a hold of Levi.

“RUN!” She groaned as Levi began to pistol whip her some more. The younger woman sprinted off the couch and went outside. The older one was trying to help.

“Go get her!”

I sighed, but the thrill of the chase was fun. I took off after the daughter. She was about halfway down the long driveway already. Adrenaline is a son of a bitch. I chased, realizing if she got away, she could run into anyone at this point. She sprinted for a long time and finally hung a left into the woods.

I veered off, swinging around to get behind her. She was taking huge gulps of air as the fear and adrenaline mixed perfectly. She was looking everywhere for me. I got behind her and tackled her, knife pressed up against her throat.

“I love the outdoors too, but I think it’s time to get back inside.”

She groaned, a fiery rage built and exploded in the angry scream.

“Well shit, you’re a great screamer. But I bet that’s what everybody says.”

I marched her back in and there was silence except for a fork scraping a plate. Levi sat himself near the grandma and the mother or older daughter, who were now both bleeding and battered. Levi put the piece of toast he made in his mouth and ate some. He motioned for the younger girl to sit down.

“You want some toast?”

She declined, now more concerned with her bloody relatives.

“Your loss, this is pretty good.”

Levi continued to eat the toast without saying much.

“What now?” I said to break the silence.

We just need to wait for….

“Levi looked at the phone he took.”

“3 Minutes.”

Levi continued to eat, and then wiped his face with a napkin and pocketed it. Then we both heard the indistinct chatter and footsteps outside.

“Right on time. Please go greet our new guests.”

I walked outside, and sure enough, John and Debra, the older couple were walking up. They spotted me and stopped. At first, John thought I was one of his daughters.

“Oh, Kara, that’s…”

He shook his head.

“Uh… hello. Can we help you?”

I raised the pistol and smiled.

“Come on inside, Christmas dinner is almost ready.”

The fear flashed and they both put their hands up. Inside we went, where Debra ran over to her daughter and sister, I am assuming. It could be the in-law. I don’t know. I don’t worry about semantics too much. Now they were crying and John was aghast.

“What do you want?”

“Money. Duh. You have a safe? A secret stash? Give it up.” Levi commanded.

“Yeah, yeah sure pal, just don’t hurt us!”

John was escorted by Levi to a room and then walked out with a bag. Inside was plenty of money.

“Nice. Well, I think our job is done here. Now if you’ll be so kind pop to j-ugh!”

Without warning, John had gotten froggy and tackled Levi up against a wall and knocked the gun out of his hand. They tussled for a brief moment.

*BANG*

The gunshot was louder than I expected. It even startled me. But, John was now down, holding his leg which was bleeding heavily. Levi looked over at me and nodded, a surprised sigh of relief, almost like he was so stunned he didn’t believe it. He chuckled and walked over to me, throwing his arm around me and kissing my head through the mask.

“Baby you’re the greatest.”

The women screamed and were frantic but the guns waved at them again silenced them.

“Why do you people have to be so stubborn? Now… as I was about to say, before I was rudely interrupted, you could have taken your seat on the couch pops. But now look at you.

“Please just go. You’ve taken everything!” Debra shouted.

Levi turned to me and gestured in her direction. I pointed the gun and thought about pulling the trigger.

“Nah. We’re just gonna go.”

“Thank you folks. You all have a Merry Christmas!”

With that, Levi and I left, owners a new smartwatch, a phone, and a lot of money.

I was so getting used to this.




I am so pleased to be in the presence of the golden child.

I see we’re going to have to play a little game because it’s how people taught you. I will tell you, like I told the Captain a while ago. I don’t care about who’s right or wrong or gets all their ducks in a row for information. This is not about that and never has been. But people like you just want to act like it’s the end all be all.

I was in your position once. And then it was taken from me. Taken because I wanted this to be about all of us, not just a few, not just the elite. But people like you continue to make it about a few people and not everyone. I was trying to save this place from being a boring waste that no one would want to come to. I wanted to make it open. I wanted people to earn things and give this place order amongst the chaos.

But it was taken from me and ever since then, I have been spinning my wheels. I will gladly admit that. I haven’t really felt like making this kind of effort since I lost the championship. Because really, the title hasn’t mattered to me. But now I fully understand its purpose. You see, if you were in immense physical pain and I were to tell you I’m a doctor, I think you’d want to see some kind of credentials, right? You wouldn’t just take my word that I’m a doctor. I mean, you got stabbed in the toe? Let me rub your neck with aloe vera! That’ll fix you right up. No, you’d need to verify this.

And the title was my verification.

Things were getting to the point where we were just starting to turn the corner and then boom, Crystal whoever steals the title from me and now I can scream at the top of my lungs about actually doing good, and it gets ignored. Because I don’t have the thing that I need. I was focused on trying to do things a different way, since they just don’t want me anywhere near the title again.

I accept that. I play by the rules I tried to set. I said we don’t hand out free title shots anymore, and I’m playing by that. Of course, that doesn’t apply to certain people who just love this re-run title reign of Crystal where she’s handing a title shot to her ex that she just wants to use and abuse one more time. No new faces, no fresh talent, just the same old, stupid shit.

And that is where you come in.

You are their one new person that they will hang their hat on and say “look, here’s a new person. See, we’re doing this the correct way.” I was in that position once. But I didn’t conform. I didn’t go out there and read my lines like a good soldier. I tested things. I challenged things. I wanted so much for this place, and they got afraid of me.

But it’s fine. They have you.

You are my replacement, Amelia.

You go out there and say all the right things, all the cool things. You’re hip and trendy. You probably think I’m just terrible for trying to do things and you’re going to put a stop to me changing this place. You are the future. You are… what do you say… you’re a problem! It’s so cool you could put it on a t-shirt and slap an SCW logo on it and it would sell like hotcakes.

You are exactly what they want. You’re the puppet they want. The cymbal playing monkey that winds up. You’ll do anything they tell you to do because you crave their approval.

No, Amelia, I respect the hustle. Everybody has their role to play and that’s yours. You do you. I’m here for it. I look forward to watching as you, under their thumb, rise to undeserved glory and fame because that’s how you get along. Quid pro quo. You play along, you get rewarded. I see it. I understand it.

And no, I know you really want to beat me to the punch on this, but I’m not jealous. If they picked you, they picked you. I didn’t get hand picked, I took what was in the way. I did it to make this place better. I seized this company by the throat and tried to drag it forward. I took people out of the game, and did it in style. I challenged the so-called “dominant” champion and had her running in circles trying to connect dots in a silly debate. And in the end, I lit her on fire and took her title.

You were here for that, weren’t you? You were a part of this company, right? What happened? Why didn’t you take the same opportunity I did? Why did you falter? Why were you left in the dust as I rose to the top? Where were you Amelia? You could have and should have been there right along with me. You and I, battling to get control and take the title. Why did you not make it?

I did all that and then some. And now you’ve come out of nowhere and suddenly you’re the it girl now? When did this happen? Where the hell was I when Amelia Reynolds took the company by storm? I’ll admit, I haven’t really been paying attention to you, or anything you’ve done because it’s really not worth talking about. What is there to talk about Amelia? You have done nothing, accomplished nothing in this company, but you’re a problem. You’ve got all this confidence based on… winning some matches I guess. And a loss to Mercedes Vargas.

Oh boy, I am quaking in my boots at the thought of this.

I had better things to do, bigger fish to fry and other opponents that I had made some arrangements for and then all of a sudden, it’s announced that I’m facing you at Inception. Like… hold up, when did this happen? I had plans and now they are once again on hold because I had to do something else.

At first, I didn’t like this in the slightest. I was ready to come out here and talk about how ridiculous it is that I didn’t get any notice, and then you would have said “Well I didn’t either and you can’t complain about that and OMG you’re such a loser!” I am fully aware of how plans change. It’s fine. But you know, since you need to win this debate, sure, you got it.

That strategy doesn’t really work, because I will lie, cheat and steal to get the things I need. I don’t need to be right, I don’t even need to believe I’m right. I can lie through my teeth just to make you think one thing. But as they say in the Exorcist,

“The Devil will mix lies with the truth to deceive.”

So I could sit here and say anything and you’d gobble it up, listening word by word for anything to give you an advantage, and then throw it back at me like you’re tossing out a good hand on the poker table. Read ‘em and weep! Gotcha!

You can have all the gotcha’s you want. This isn’t a debate. I’ll be wrong, I’ll be the bad guy and then what? I relish being the bad guy. Because I do things and say things no one else wants to. I make people uncomfortable. Right now, you are uncomfortable because you don’t know what I’m going to say. Or maybe you do. Does it make you feel like you’re in command of this situation?

No puppet, you dance when they pull your strings. You dance on command. I was doing everything to keep you free from those strings, but they want to fast track you to take the spot I once had. It’s fine. You do that. I’m just saying that it feels way better without the strings attached.

But here is the real treat for me. I get to beat you up and show them that their puppet isn’t as amazing as they want you to be. They really want you to beat me and then you can hold your head up high and continue to sell the whole “problem” thing you have going on. Again, no knock to the hustle. It’s marketable. Very corporate, very safe.

What isn’t marketable, what isn’t safe, is the rough, dirty, and difficult task of changing the landscape of this company. The real work in the trenches. It’s easy to just sit there and let the machine give you everything. Think about this. You are here as the next hottest thing. You beat me, you’ve beaten a former world champion. Well on your way to coming up short for a title match and then they move on to the next big thing.

But beating you? I slow down the machine to a crawl. I make the machine re-think its choice of you as its figurehead. I put your time in this company in jeopardy. I put you in a position you may never get out of. Then there’s no “problem” t-shirts. There’s no small children thinking of you as a role model. I can take all of that away.

This gets better and better for me the longer I think about. I have a chance to stick you straight up their asses and tell them to suck me off. How they had their chance at the best. I already proved it. But they want to settle for you? Well fuck that noise. No you’re going to get your ass beat. You don’t really want a problem with me. Because you think I’ve already peaked and now I cannot come back to that spot again. You think I’m about to be this easy win because you got a little moment on your side, a spring in your step. It’s all gonna be sunshine and rainbows.

No baby, we’re about to play in the fucking mud.

We’re going to get so dirty we’re gonna need to take a bath with a fucking pumice stone.

The captain followed me down here and fucking regretted it. I am filthy, Amelia. You don’t want to get this dirty. You need to be clean, smile brightly and flash the pearly whites. Fighting with me will leave you very very stained. Moist even. You don’t want to go to this level, but I will go lower. I will sink to new and fun lows that you don’t want to be a part of.

And when you’re down here with me, like you will be in two weeks… you’ll regret it. All that promotion, all that press, all that recognition? I’ll all be over. All it down the toilet. I will use your broken and sticky body as a ladder back to that place. I will put you on display. If this was medevel times, I would put your head on fucking pike.

But instead, I’ll have to settle for kneeing you in the fucking face. Maybe break your nose, or jaw, or whatever I see fit. You don’t control this situation. I do. I can do many really nasty things to you and ruin a lot more than just your rise to the top. I can ruin everything. You’re taking this risk and I’ll give you credit for that, but we both really know you’re doing it because they are telling you to.

Dance puppet, dance.

And when it’s over and you are laying there regretting poking the bear like this, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. I have a destiny to fulfill, and at this point, after all the times being sidetracked? I don’t think I’m gonna take any responsibility for what does happen to you. I want you to think about that Amelia. I’m sure you’re jotting all this down.

Just star this shit, highlight it, make it a bullet on your document.

It’s not my fault what happens to you.

Trust me.
99
Supercard Archives / Re: MILES KASEY (c) v ALEX JONES - INTERNET TITLE
« Last post by MiloKasey on January 03, 2026, 11:57:01 PM »
What He Asked For

They had just gotten back from Olympia after spending a whole week with their families.

The condo still smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon from the Christmas decorations that they had put up even though they weren’t there for Christmas, the quiet hum that followed a holiday finally exhaling. It should have been peaceful and it almost was.

Kevin stood in the kitchen entranceway longer than necessary. Miles noticed first. He always did.

The kid had that look again. It wasn’t panic or fear exactly, but the kind of tightness that came from rehearsing something in your head until it bruised. Carter was rinsing a mug at the sink, back turned, sleeves rolled up, hair still slightly damp from a shower. Domestic. Safe.

Kevin swallowed, “Can I...ask something?”

Carter turned immediately. Miles didn’t move, but every part of him tuned in.

“Yeah,” Carter said gently, "What’s up?”

Kevin’s fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie, "I was wondering if it was possible... I mean, this isn’t really a gift thing. But I was thinking maybe... if it was possible...”

Miles leaned back against the counter, arms crossing loosely, "Kev, you don’t have to preface it like you’re about to get arrested.”

A weak smile flickered on the young man’s face but then vanished, "I want to visit my mom.”

The words landed heavy. Not explosive....it was worse. Quiet and extremely dense. Carter’s hands stilled under the faucet. The water kept running for a second too long before he shut it off. He didn’t turn around right away.

Miles felt it in his chest first. That tightening. That instinctive no that rose before reason could catch up.

Kevin rushed on, voice quickening, "I know....I know it’s uncomfortable. I know what she did. I know how you feel about it. I just....she’s still my mom. And I keep thinking if I don’t go now, if I don’t at least try, then I’ll regret it forever.”

Carter finally turned. His face was controlled, but there was something brittle behind his eyes, "You understand,” he said carefully, “that what she did wasn’t just a mistake.”

Kevin nodded immediately, "I know. I do. I’m not saying I forgive her. I just... I feel like I need to see her.”

Miles pushed off the counter.

“Okay,” he said.

Carter shot him a look. Miles met it and held his hands up to keep it calm.

“Okay,” Miles repeated, steadier, "We can talk about it. Doesn’t mean yes and doesn’t mean no but we’ll talk.”

Kevin’s shoulders sagged with relief he hadn’t even tried to hide, "Thank you.”

That night, Miles lay awake long after Carter’s breathing evened out beside him.

He wasn’t afraid of the prison. He was afraid of what Karen would try to do to Kevin. Afraid of what words could still cut a sixteen-year-old who had already been carved thin by neglect and abuse. But more than that? He was afraid Kevin would walk out of that room thinking he’d been wrong to be loved.

The prison was colder than Miles expected. Not temperature but the atmosphere. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the echo of footsteps on tile, the kind of quiet that didn’t soothe but watched. Kevin walked between them, shoulders squared, jaw set. He wore the jacket Carter had bought him earlier this winter. The one that actually fit.

Karen Chapman sat at the table already. Her hair was shorter now and sharper. Her mouth still curved into that same judgmental line Miles remembered all too well. She looked at Kevin first, then at Miles, then at Carter and her expression curdled.

“So,” she said flatly, "You finally let them bring you here.”

Kevin stiffened, Miles didn’t sit yet and neither did Carter. After a few moments Kevin took a deep breath and took the chair across from her.

“I asked,” Kevin said, "They didn’t force me.”

Karen scoffed, "Of course you’d say that.”

Carter sat down, slowly and deliberately, "We’re here because Kevin asked us to be,” he said evenly, "Nothing more.”

Karen’s eyes flicked over him with open disdain, "Funny how you two always speak for him.”

Kevin’s hands curled into fists on the table, "I asked to come alone,” he said, "They said no. And honestly? I’m glad they did.”

Karen’s lips thinned, "Still can’t do anything without hiding behind them, I see.”

That did it, Kevin leaned forward, “You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore.”

Karen blinked, "Excuse me?”

“You treated me like a problem my entire life,” Kevin said, voice shaking but loud, "Like I was something you and Dad had to put up with. Like feeding me and housing me was some huge sacrifice.”

Miles felt his chest burn with pride. Afterall this was the same kid that could barely look at him after he found him in that ratty motel months ago.

Karen laughed, short and humorless, "Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

“I ran away because of you,” Kevin snapped, "Because of both of you. First what you did to Carter and how you ended up even in here and then dad and his new arm candy...Because I could feel how much hatred was around me.”

Karen’s face hardened, "That’s a lie.”

“No,” Kevin said, "That’s the truth you don’t like.”

She turned her glare toward Miles, "You hear this? This is what they’ve filled his head with.”

Kevin slammed his hand on the table, “STOP.”

The sound echoed and Karen flinched. Kevin’s voice broke, but he didn’t stop.

“I wanted this visit because I thought maybe...just maybe you’d changed while being in here. Maybe you’d see me and realize I wasn’t the burden you convinced yourself I was.”

Karen’s eyes narrowed, "You were difficult.”

That caused Miles’s jaw to tighten.

Kevin laughed then. A sharp, hollow sound, "I was a kid. A scared kid who knew his own mother couldn’t stand him.”

Karen leaned back, crossing her arms, "And now look at you, living with them. You expect me to believe they didn’t....”

“I’m gay.”

The words hit like glass shattering as Karen stared at him. Then she laughed bitterly, “There it is.”

Kevin’s heart pounded so hard he felt dizzy, but he didn’t look away, “I’ve known for over five years,” he said, "Long before I ever met them. Long before I ever ran.”

Karen’s face twisted, "They corrupted you.”

“No,” Kevin said, shaking his head, "They saved me.”

She sneered, "You’re just confused.”

“No,” Kevin said, "I’m done.”

Karen leaned forward, voice venomous, "You think they’ll keep you forever? Once you’re inconvenient again...”

Kevin stood, “This is the last time you will ever see me.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Karen scoffed, "Don’t be ridiculous.”

Kevin looked at her, not angry now, he was just tired, “My dad never wanted me. And you never loved me,” he said, "I finally understand that. And I don’t need you anymore.”

Karen’s mouth opened, Kevin turned away. At the door, he paused, "Goodbye, Karen.”

Miles’s hand was on his shoulder immediately. Carter’s arm came around him from the other side and they walked out together. And for the first time since asking for it, Kevin didn’t look back.

They didn’t talk in the car at first. Kevin stared out the window. Miles drove. Carter watched him from the passenger seat.

Finally, Kevin whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Miles pulled over immediately and turned off the engine. He looked over at Carter for a moment and then got out of the car and so did Carter, Miles opened up the door and Kevin stepped out and without another word, Miles wrapped him up in a huge hug and then Carter joined in. They must have looked a sight to the passerbys on the freeway but they did not care.

“You didn’t hurt us,” Miles said fiercely, "You chose yourself.”

Carter nodded, "That’s not something you ever have to apologize for.”

Kevin broke then and they held him.

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

Attack for the Next Generation....YET AGAIN

The camera comes on mid-breath. It was not centered and certainly not framed pretty. It was just like someone hit record and Miles didn’t bother adjusting for it.

He’s standing this time. The SCW Internet Championship is slung over his shoulder, heavy and unapologetic. One of his ring jackets hangs on a chair behind him, the words ATTACK FOR THE NEXT GENERATION stretched across the back in bold lettering.

Miles doesn’t blink at the lens.

“Alex Jones.”

His mouth twists, not into a smile, but something sharper.

“You know what pisses me off the most about you right now?”

He takes one step forward.

“It’s not the shit you’ve been saying about me. It’s not the way you talk about this championship like it’s beneath you. It’s not even the way you try to turn your past into some kind of moral high ground. It’s the fact that you know better.... and you’re choosing to lie anyway.”

Miles reaches up, grips the faceplate of the title, knuckles whitening.

“Years ago you and the others welcomed me into Wolfslair. You looked me in the eye and told me this business was about growth and it was about pressure forging something stronger. It was about earning your spot, not waiting for someone to hand it to you. And now you can stand there and try to tell the world that the man carrying this championship somehow failed? By the way this was me already guessing what was coming because you have not changed after all this time.”

He scoffs, short and bitter.

“And you know what? Fuck that.” Miles paces once, fast, like a caged animal refusing to stay still, "You don’t get to rewrite history because it’s inconvenient. You don’t get to decide that the division built to elevate talent suddenly doesn’t matter just because it’s me holding the flag.”

He jabs a thumb into his own chest.

“You don’t like what I represent because I’m proof your way isn’t the only way. I didn’t chase validation, I didn’t beg for permission. And I sure as fuck didn’t wait for the big pat on the head from the old guard. Instead, I took responsibility.”

Miles stops pacing and plants his feet.

“This championship? It’s not a consolation prize. It’s not a stepping stone. It’s a burden and it is one I chose to carry because somebody has to make sure the next wave doesn’t drown before it learns how to swim.”

He lifts the belt slightly.

“I defend this thing because I believe in what it stands for. Because I remember what it felt like to be the guy standing on the outside, hoping someone would open the door instead of slamming it shut. And you, Alex? You are constantly slamming it shut....in your own face lately it seems.”

Miles leans toward the camera now, voice low, venomous.

“I have heard you talk like I should be ashamed that my husband is the World Champion. Like standing beside greatness somehow diminishes mine. Let me be very clear, you don’t get to shrink me to make yourself feel taller.”

He straightens.

“I’m not chasing the World Title because I don’t need to prove I belong. I already have that with the Internet Championship. With every defense and every match where I showed up when other people were busy running their mouths. I’m also not about to pull a whole ass relationship apart for my own fucking ego...I did that once already and it has forever set this course of me being the red-headed step-child of Wolfslair. Well BAH BAH I’m the Black sheep and I am loving how my life turned out.”

He taps the jacket behind him.

“ATTACK FOR THE NEXT GENERATION isn’t a slogan, it’s a promise.”

Miles’ voice rises but it’s not shouting but instead commanding.

“And if that scares you? If the idea that the kid you welcomed in grew up, sharpened his teeth, and stopped asking for approval bothers you? That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

A slow, cruel smile finally breaks through.

“At Inception, you don’t get the grateful student. You don’t get the respectful nod and you don’t get the version of me that was still figuring himself out.”

He steps closer until the lens almost can’t hold him.

“You get the champion who refuses to be kicked down. You get the man who knows exactly what he is.”

His hand tightens on the belt.

“And you’re going to find out real fast that this division doesn’t need your permission to move forward, "Next week, we can talk more.”

A darker edge slips into his tone.

“But at Inception?”

Miles’ eyes burn.

“The time for talk is over and baby....I don’t hold back.”

The camera doesn’t cut right away.

Miles stays there, breathing through his nose, jaw tight, eyes burning like he’s daring the lens to flinch first. He exhales slowly.

“And let’s get something straight while I’ve got the floor.”

He shifts the belt higher on his shoulder, the leather creaking.

“This isn’t about nostalgia and this isn’t about legacy. This isn’t about what Wolfslair used to be when your name meant something and your word carried weight. This is about now.”

He points at the camera, sharp and deliberate.

“Right now, this company is full of men and women grinding every single week trying to earn something real. They don’t need to be told they’re less-than because they didn’t come up your way. They don’t need to be shamed for wanting more without sacrificing who they are to get it.”

Miles shakes his head, disbelief edging into fury.

“And you? You’ve been standing on the sidelines acting like the gatekeeper to a future that already passed you by. Talking about ‘standards’ while tearing down the same division that gave people like me a chance to survive long enough to become something dangerous.”

He takes another step forward.

“You call this title small because you’ve forgotten what it’s like to fight for oxygen. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to need a platform instead of a pedestal. Somewhere along the line, you stopped forging steel and started hoarding the furnace.”

Miles’ voice hardens.

“I didn’t forget.”

He taps the belt once, firm.

“I remember every match where I was told ‘not yet.’ Every time I was good enough to carry the load but not good enough to get the credit. Every time I watched someone else get handed what I had to bleed for. And I learned.”

Miles straightens fully now, shoulders squared, unmovable.

“So here’s what’s going to happen at Inception. You’re going to walk into that ring thinking you’re about to teach a lesson. Thinking this is your chance to remind everyone who you were and I’m going to remind you who I am.”

He gestures behind him, to the jacket, to the words.

“This isn’t rebellion. This is an evolution. This is the next generation refusing to apologize for existing. And you don’t scare me, Alex. Your disappointment doesn’t scare me. Your approval never mattered as much as you think it did.”

Miles leans in one last time, voice low and certain.

“You taught me how to survive this business. I taught myself how to win.”

He steps back, finally allowing space between himself and the camera.

“At Inception, you don’t get to test me. You’ll finally get exposed.”

The feed cuts.

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

Aftermath: The Wrong Man to Wake Up

The condo was loud in the way that meant safe. It wasn’t chaotic and especially not overwhelming,  just lived in.

Pizza boxes were stacked on the coffee table, lids folded back like discarded armor. A controller buzzed somewhere near the couch where Connor and Kevin were arguing over whose fault it was that the game had gone sideways. Ashlynn sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through her phone while half-listening, occasionally chiming in just to stir the pot. For the moment they put a pause on the D-n-D game until Carter returned.

Ally was in the kitchen, barefoot, leaning against the counter while LJ talked with his hands like his ribs hadn’t been brutalized a few weeks ago.

“I’m telling you, if finals were after Bill jumped me,” LJ said, shaking his head, “I would’ve failed out of law school on principle alone.”

Ally snorted, "You would’ve tried to cite the concussion as precedent.”

“Which is valid...”

“It’s so totally not.”

Miles stood near the hallway, arms crossed, watching it all with that quiet, hyperaware calm that had become second nature lately. The house was full. Everyone accounted for. Carter had stepped out for fifteen minutes, ‘I’m just grabbing Dr. Pepper, babe’ and Miles had clocked the time automatically.

Too automatically...as he checked his watch again.

“You good?” Kevin asked, noticing.

Miles nodded once, "Yeah. Just... habit especially after everything.”

Connor shot him a grin, "Parental instincts activated.”

Miles rolled his eyes, "Don’t push it, kid.”

The laughter hadn’t even finished fading when the pounding started. Not a knock but a slam.

Three sharp impacts against the door that immediately drained the air from the room and caused everyone froze. Miles didn’t hesitate, he was already moving as he said, “Stay here.”

He didn’t wait for agreement. The door flew open to reveal a neighbor from two floors down, breathless, eyes wide with panic.

“Miles...oh my God...it’s Carter....”

The name and the panic in her voice hit like a physical blow.

“What happened?” Miles demanded, already past her, keys in hand.

“The garage...someone screamed....his car...”

Miles was running before she finished.

“Kevin!” Ally shouted behind him, "You, Ash and Conner stay here and lock the fucking door. If you need to, call Kristjan.”

Connor was already standing, adrenaline snapping into place. LJ swore under his breath and grabbed his jacket.

Miles was already gone and he jumped stairs down the well several steps at a time. Miles hit the stairwell hard enough that his shoulder clipped the railing. He took the steps two at a time, lungs burning, pulse roaring in his ears. His mind tried to assemble fragments...the shirt, the wine bottle, the phone call, Carter’s forced smile earlier that day when he’d said I’m fine, really.

Miles hadn’t believed him and he should have pushed harder. He’d kick himself later for it but first he needed to get Carter. He finally got to the door to the parking garage and ripped open the door. The parking garage smelled like concrete, oil, and panic.

The horn was still echoing when he reached the level. That sound, so sharp and relentless, cut straight through him. Then he saw the car.

The stupid lime green Beetle, door hanging open, Carter sprawled half on the concrete, half twisted toward the seat like gravity hadn’t finished deciding what to do with him yet.

Miles didn’t remember crossing the distance. But he remembered dropping to his knees. He remembered Carter’s glasses shattered near the tire. He remembered the smell, it was sweet, minty and wrong.

“Hey...hey Carter, look at me. Come on love, look at me, please.”

Carter’s eyelids fluttered. His chest hitched. His hands twitched like they were still fighting something that wasn’t there anymore.

Miles cupped his face, thumb brushing over skin gone clammy too fast, "You’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you and those were the words were a promise and a vow and a threat all at once.

Security arrived. Someone called 911. Another neighbor tried to hand Miles a jacket. He shrugged it off without realizing it. He didn’t let go of Carter’s face until the paramedics told him he had to. He would occasionally glance up and look around to see if he could spot anything suspicious. And then something in the backseat caught his eye....zip ties and duct tape

That was the first time Miles Kasey felt something snap clean through his restraint. It wasn’t fear.

Rage...it was cold.

Unapologetic.

And now it was the realist that it has even been.

100
Supercard Archives / Re: FIRE & FURY v ZDUNICH SISTERS - WORLD BOMBSHELL TITLE
« Last post by Crystal Zdunich on January 03, 2026, 11:31:57 PM »
Hollywood Hills, California
Zdunich Estate

Despite living in such a large extravagant home that only a movie star could live in there was a void that was left in this luxurious estate. Crystal Zdunich had felt empty. Just a few weeks ago Crystal would be screaming out her submission on Climax Control as her wife Seleana Zdunich beat her yet again but to make matters worse. The woman who she thought was her best friend in the form of Mercedes Vargas had been taking verbal shots at her, making her choose between Fire & Fury and her wife Seleana. As much as she wanted to have her cake and eat it too, she knew at some point she would have to make a decision and it would be one that would affect her life in the immediate future. The only thing that Crystal did feel is that she hated feeling alone. It had been forever since she got to spend time with her spouse and with the current misfortunes inside of the wrestling ring Vargas didn’t want anything to do with her either.

Crystal sat alone in the living room watching television in her Christmas pajamas. She held a cup of hot chocolate in her hand and offered a long sigh as she held the remote control in her hands.


Crystal: Why is there never anything to watch?! I hate being alone for the holdays…

Before anything else could happen the chime of her doorbell could be heard all throughout her house. Crystal raised her eyes in disbelief not really expecting to have any company but she quickly stood up as she walked over to the front door. She opens it and is shocked when she sees the woman that is standing in her entrance.

Crystal: What the hell are you doing here?!

Zelda: It’s the Christmas season and you are obviously feeling alone. I figured I would be doing my duty of community service if I gave back to the needy, and it’s apparent that you definitely need me. You don’t have a spouse to share this home with and you certainly don’t have a best friend because I don’t know what you call Vargas but she is not YOUR best friend because that’s me!

Crystal just stares at Zelda blankly as she shrugs her shoulders at her.

Crystal: I really don’t understand you though. I appreciate you showing up but I really don’t understand?!

Zelda Knite was the long time best friend of Crystal Zdunich and at one point former tag team partner. It had been a long time since the two of them had spoken with one another but with Crystal feeling at her complete lowest and having nowhere to turn, this is when Zelda had decided to show up. Zelda just crossed her arms as she walked inside of the empty Hollywood Hills home. The video gaming nerd looked deeply into Crystal’s eyes as she took a seat on her couch.

Zelda: So what is going on with you Christina?! For as long as I have known you Crystal you should be at the happiest that you have ever been in a long time. You have waited so long to finally be on top of the wrestling world again. You are the best of the best but lately it just seems like you don’t have anything to smile over. That’s not like you.

Crystal: I really want to smile and I thought that winning the title would bring a smile on my face but lately it just seems like that isn’t even the case. I am at a loss of words because I don’t know in which direction I should take my life in. I want to be the best champion I can be. Everybody knows how much my wrestling career means to me. It’s always everything to me but lately I keep feeling that my professional career isn’t bringing the smile to my face as I thought it would. It’s not filling in the void that has been empty since my wife has left the home, and I don’t even want to touch on Mercedes.

Zelda looks back over at Crystal as she just shrugs her shoulders back at the Latina woman. She quickly shakes her head as she replies abc to her.

Zelda: If I can be completely honest you shouldn’t be worried about those things and I saw what Mercedes has been saying. As much as you wish to value her and her opinions she isn’t your best friend nor is she really looking in your best interests. She is supposed to be your tag team partner but she is giving you ultimatums as if her word is important. A real best friend wouldn’t make you choose between your career and your marriage. Only a selfish person would try to put that on you. I don’t even know why you want to hold onto Mercedes for so long. At the end of the day she is only looking out for what is in her best interests. She’s using you just to further her own useless career. Maybe at a point she helped you along the way but when you put your mind to things you know you can accomplish anything!

Crystal nods her head as she looks back at Zelda:

Crystal: I guess you have a point… Somewhere in my brain I know being paired with her is the wrong decision. I know my mind should solely be on trying to make things right with the wife but I just can’t shake the feeling that I am going to make the wrong decision no matter what I decide.

Zelda nods her head.

Zelda: You got that right, nothing you decide will be the right decision but think about things from a logical standpoint. What is more important to you in your life. Is it a piece of championship gold or is it your marriage?! Now before you answer that question a true best friend like myself would never even question you on such a ridiculous thing. Everybody knows that championships in wrestling will come and go. You can always go about and just win yourself another one. Hasn’t that been your story for like twenty four different occasions.

Crystal: Maybe it’s more like twenty five but who is honestly counting?!

Zelda just looks at Crystal shaking her head at her as she sighs in disbelief.

Zelda: You really weren’t supposed to answer that. I am trying to get it as it’s in plain sight that Mercedes is a leech. She’s a woman that wants to use you. Use you to get what she wants, which is getting a piece of relevancy.She may have had that when she was the Internet Champion but since then you have really taken off and she doesn’t mind stepping on you to get what she wants. I know you are a woman who loves to constantly wear her heart on her sleeves but I want you to think over what I said. Vargas is not what is in your best interest. She wasn’t in NCW, she wasn’t in 3WL, and she certainly is not in modern day SCW. I know your wife has been telling you this but you are the only one who needs to see it for yourself.

Crystal: Maybe you are on to something.

Zelda: Crystal don’t be such a goomba. Let’s really look at the facts. You have had a peaceful marriage until you started talking to Mercedes. The moment that you started to let her enter your life is the moment that things started to go astray for you. It’s the moment that Seleana walked out and it’s the moment where you lost everything that you felt was important to you. I could go on and on but at the end of the day you already know what you need the most. You know the decision you need to make but you need to see it for yourself. Once you make that decision you can finally be happy with where things are going to go.

Crystal thinks about it as she forms a wicked grin and looks right into the eyes of her best friend. Zelda cracks a grin in return as she nods her head.

Crystal: Thank you so much Zelda, I honestly don’t know where I would be if I didn’t have you in my life.

Zelda: Probably relapsing on the street somewhere or being pimped out in the back of a car.

Crystal:

Zelda: What?! It’s a joke… Listen, just be happy that I came here to talk to you. At the end of the day it’s always about every man’s fantasy and nothing, and nobody can ever replace the best friendship that the two of us have. Now I didn’t come all the way from Texas just to talk. Let’s spend time as best friends should. I do believe we have some video gaming to catch up on, and I bought my joy cons. Hopefully you aren’t that pitiful in Mario Party…

Crystal: Oh it’s on but I have gotten a lot better since the last time the two of us played.

With that the two women just smile at one another as we slowly fade out on this image.









I know it won’t be that long until Inception is upon us and honestly I don’t know how to feel about the match up that I am going to be participating in. No matter what happens I know for a fact that it sucks to be in this position that I am in. it’s going to be Mercedes and I taking on my wife Seleana and her sister Zenna in a tag team match. If I get pinned or submitted then whoever pins me will walk away with the World Bombshell Championship. This is a very unique situation for me because no matter what happens I feel like I am going to walk away as a loser.
 
I love being the World Bombshell Championship. Winning it for a record breaking and setting sixth time is a feeling that can’t ever be replaced. I poured everything into finally going about and winning the championship but what hurts more than that is now in order to really get through one of my first defenses I need to go through my wife in order to do so. In addition she will be teaming up with my sponsor in the form of my sister in-law. I am not going to lie or bite my tongue. I don’t like being in this situation.
 
I don’t like it at all. I also don’t appreciate that my supposed partner and best friend is trying to push me to do things that I really don’t want to do. Mercedes the two of us have known each other for a very long time. We have been there through the worst of times and we damn sure have been through the best of times as well. You are the oldest person that I have known in this industry and when everybody gave up on me and told me I was worthless and didn’t have it in me anymore. You kept pushing me to do better.
 
You were high and mighty on your pedestal as the Internet Champion and you gave me the motivation that I could maybe pick myself back up and make something of my career again. On paper that all sounded good and you were my biggest advocate but that seems to have changed when you lost your title and now I am the one standing tall as the World Bombshell Champion. I possess the title that makes me the best out of all the females on the roster and I know I have a big target on my back.
 
Lately it just seems like instead of being my biggest supporter you have been taking verbal shots at me. I would be a fool if I didn’t read between the lines and listen to comments such as the Zdunichs are thinking that everything revolves around them, and you don’t want the World Championship scene to be one marriage dispute.
 
I know when you are using the term Zdunich even though I have been competing under the name of Caldwell that you are including me in the mix. I would be living under a rock if I didn’t see what you are really all about. The entire world keeps telling me what would happen if the focus wasn’t on Vargas anymore. What would happen if I was the one with the title and you are the one that doesn’t have anything?
 
It seems we are living in that situation right now and what I do know to be true is that I am not a weak individual. I am not going to listen to your ultimatums and have you question me on why I lost to Seleana and trying to put down my wife as if she is trash. Have I ever beaten her in the ring?!
 
No, I haven’t beaten her in a one on one match ever. She has always gotten the better of me. She has submitted me twice and beat me in that chain match. Maybe people can claim that I had an off night but the truth is as much as everybody loves to talk down my wife. She is not the prized little trophy wife that can’t do anything.
 
I taught Seleana everything she knows in that ring. She knows me like an open book and there’s a woman who when pushed can do so much. She can beat just about anything when she really puts her mind to it. You don’t have to sit on your high horse and question if the old Crystal Hilton is going to come out and fight like this match means anything.
 
Of course I am going to fight; of course I am going to show out because that’s what I do. It’s what I always do and I owe it to the people who pay good money to put on the show of a lifetime. Whether it’s booing me to get my ass kicked or if they actually want me to win. I need to go out there and fight to my heart’s content because I poured so much into winning the title but now I need to show that I can also defend it.
 
I don’t need YOU of all people questioning me if I know what I need to do. Instead of trying to stir something up what I do need from you is let’s keep all of this professional and not personal. I am trying to get back with my wife and I would appreciate if nothing else comes in the way of that. If I can be honest the reason why Seleana and I are separated to begin with is because of YOU. She thought I was sleeping with you and I just let it go.
 
Now I am at a point where I won’t let anything go and I know what I want and I know who I want. Seleana is the most important treasure in my life. She sees me in ways that others don’t see me and I need to prove to her that the woman she fell in love with is not gone. If that means preparing myself to be at my best and to not hold back so be it.
 
I am tired of being on the losing side and it’s time I fight for what my heart really wants. Zenna as much as we have gotten into it on numerous occasions I see you for what you are. You are a sister who would do anything to protect her sister. Right now you don’t know if I could be trusted and seeing as you are my sponsor I know you see certain tendencies that might make you think I am using again.
 
Let me explain something, yes I am on a drug, but the type of drug that I am addicted to is your sister Seleana. She is MY drug, she is the mother bear to my children and I am longing to do whatever it takes to get that back. I won’t let you come in the way of me getting my life back on track and definitely the life that was meant for me to build with your sister.
 
Everybody wants me to make me a target. Everybody wants my title and by all means if it’s the title you want so badly then you better come after me and give everything you have in order to grab it.
 
Rest assured though no matter if you have gotten better. No matter if you are a spouse, or a sponsor, or even my best friend. When I walk into that ring it’s as the champion and I plan to do whatever it takes to leave as a champion.
 
So bring it on, give me all the smoke and I will show that I can handle all the pressure that everybody throws at me. Come Inception Fire & Fury will get past Wild Side and when that’s over I will be looking towards the future and continuing the legacy of being the best damn champion in this company. See all of you soon.
 
 
 




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