Harper fell short in the Triple Threat March for the Bombshell Internet Championship and to make matters worse? Victoria Lyons was the new Bombshell Internet Champion! Now Harper was back to square one but she had a chance to bounce back at Climax Control where she was taking on Amelia Reynolds in singles action! Amelia returned to SCW at High Stakes and picked up the win over Candy but can Harper bounce back?

Harper’s Loft, Las Vegas, Nevada
Sunday the 16th of November 2025. 21:00pm

And once again, I find myself at square one.

When I set my sights on Mercedes Vargas and her Bombshell Internet Championship after she cost me my spot in the High Stakes Tournament? I thought things were going to be simple, I’d enter High Staks as Mercedes’s latest challenger, hopefully take the title off her and focus my energies on entering 2025 as the new Bombshell Internet Champion! And since Crystal had won the tournament and the right to challenge Frankie? I thought it was a done deal because there was no way logically that Crystal would prioritize helping Mercedes over preparing for the World Bombshell Title Match.

Enter Victoria Lyons.

Victoria had apparently been making noise about challenging for the Bombshell Internet Championship and I say apparently because I sure as hell don’t remember her mentioning it and she attacked me at the Go Home Show for High Stakes, getting herself added to the Bombshell Internet Title Match in the process.

Meanwhile Cassie had to kick up a storm on Twitter to make the match between Bella and Bea even remotely interesting by way of her being added to the match because fuck logic!

Now? Victoria’s got her hands on the Bombshell Internet Title and Mercedes’s career renaissance is seemingly over now that her partner in crime Crystal Zdunich has taken the Word Bombshell Title thus causing the dynamic of that pairing to be flipped on it’s head! As for me? I’m back to wondering what my next plans are beyond looking for a way to get back at Victoria for that attack.

And with the year coming to a close soon? Victoria may well enter 2026 as the Bombshell Internet Champion!

”God, just let this year be over already.” I grumbled to myself as I poured out the dog food for Logan and Xavier, the two Labradors watching on eagerly from either side of me with their tails wagging. ”At least you guys don’t judge me based on one match or the friends I keep, unlike most of the SCW Roster.”

There was a knock at the door and I left the dogs alone to eat their food to answer it, seeing my manager Joshua Acquin standing there, I let the SCW Hall of Famer in. “I know it’s late but I wanted to talk about any potential plans for the New Year,” Josh explained as he made his way through the loft. “I already met with Cass earlier.”

”Let me guess, her plan’s boiled down too “never let the SCW Higher Ups pass you over again”?”  I asked as we made our way into living room, it wasn’t exactly a secret that Cassie considered herself proven right about Candy after she failed to promote the match against Amelia but she had been staying off Social Medial since High Stakes. ”As for me? It’s to get back in the title picture, if that means another war with Victoria? Fine, but she did fire the first shot this time around.”

“The attack at the Go Home Show?” Josh asked and I nodded in response. “We’ll worry about that as the year wraps up, I’ll personally be surprised if they give Victoria her first challenger before the year ends.”

”If they do, I’ll be there.” I responded as I ran a hand through my hair and Josh nodded. ”And I do plan on being there for Victoria’s first promo as champion. Regardless if I’m booked or not.”

“And I get the feeling that I won’t be able to keep you away from the ring.” Josh nodded in response right before I got the new card text and I checked it. “Knowing how driven you and Cassie are and all.”

”You say that but I have a legit reason to go out to the ring next Sunday.” I responded after spotting my next scheduled match before passing the phone to Josh. ”And it’s against someone who got dragged into Cassie’s mess by association.”

“Amelia Reynolds, in her first Climax Control match in months.” Josh nodded as he read the match in question and I nodded. “You know she’s going to be aiming for a championship shot of her on right?”

”it’s easier to name Superstars and Bombshells who won’t be looking for that! Especially with the year coming to a close.” I pointed out that fact and Josh nodded in agreement. ”Hell as a former Superstar you should know that better than anyone.”

“True, but that just means we’re going to have train extra hard.” Josh nodded in response as he folded his arms. ”Don’t forget, Amelia was half a second away from earning a World Bombshell Title Match in her first Supercard match.”

”Yeah, but that’s the thing about contendership matches.” I responded as I folded my arms. ”Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” I added before the conversation drifted off.

Harpin’ on with Harper, Harper’s Loft, Las Vegas, Nevada
Sunday the 16th of November 2025, 22:30pm

*on camera, start vlog, promo part one*

As I got ready for one of my last vlogs of the year I had a bit on my mind to say the least.

”Almost, something that applies to both me and my opponent at the next Climax Control,” I stated as I leaned forward on my computer desk with a focussed look on my face. ”I was almost the Bombshell Internet Champion at High Stakes, Amelia Reynolds was almost the number one contender for the World Bombshell Champion following Summer XXXTreme.

But you know what they say right?” I asked rhetorically as I brushed some hair over my shoulder. ”Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades and Amelia? Next Sunday we’re going to figure a couple of things out!”

Meaning?

”Namely? How we’re going to bounce back from out setbacks and what we’re going to do with that momentum going forward.” I stated as I folded my arms. ”And no, I don’t mean your win over Candy when I say that because that should go without saying really, no, I mean the match that, for months, was  your last match in SCW, the only loss on your record since debuting.

Then again? You weren’t exactly the one taking the decisive pin in the match but my point still stands.” I added as I rested both hands behind my head. ”When you left after that big match you instantly became SCW’s biggest What If Story of 2025, a woman who could now only go in the ring but had the championship pedigree from being Aiden Reynolds’s sister? Who knows what could’ve happened if you never left?”

But………..

”Now that you’re back and with your return win under your belt? This is your chance to answer any lingering questions about you in the Bombshell division, isn’t it Amelia?” I asked before looking at my nails. ”Would be a shame if someone spoiled the party, wouldn’t it? Someone who was young, basically got screwed out if her title opportunity and eager to get back in the title picture ASAP.

Whoever could it be?” I asked mockingly as I looked at the camera. ”Oh, I know, it’s gonna be me!”

*end vlog*

Josh’s gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Monday the 17th of November 2025, 14:00pm

It was the day after I found out about my next match was against Amelia? It didn’t take long for me to book some training sessions in, like, at all really.

Of course. Josh’s gym is always free for me to train at, same goes for Cassie whenever she’s booked, but I do plan on training at Hero Academy later in the week as well.

“Harper, you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep kicking with that much force.” Josh commented as I continued to kick away at the punching bag while Josh held it. “You’re a martial artist, you should know this.”

”Yeah, I know.” I nodded in response after taking a break from practicing my kicks. ”Trust me Josh, I know what I’m doing, I’m a Black Belt in Taekwondo, remember?”

“I’m not saying you don’t.” Josh responded as he shook his head. “But if you’re imagining Victoria’s face on the bag then that’s not helping!”

”Actually I was picturing her whole body.” I corrected Josh before sitting down on a weight machine bench. ”Pretty damn therapeutic if you ask me.”

“Therapeutic or not.” Josh responded as he folded his arms. “It won’t do you much good if you injure your leg and miss several months of in ring action because of it.”

”I guess you’re right.” I admitted before letting out a deep breath. ”Just trying to get my frustration out of my system ahead of the match with Amelia.”

“I know but as your manager? I do need to think about your health as well.” Josh responded as he folded his arms. “And Jess would kill me if you hot injured at my gym.”

”I can’t even deny that.” I admitted as I shook my head. ”Ready to resume when you are.”

“Never thought you’d ask.” Josh responded before leading me to different gym equipment.

Harpin’ On With Harper, Josh’s Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Monday the 17th of November 2025, 16:00pm

*on camera, start vlog, final promo part*

Here we go.

”Stylistically speaking? We’re pretty similar Amelia, you’re so well known for your high flying that you’re called the Skyborn and while I can fly with the best of them? I can also ground you thinks to my background in Amateur Wrestling or just kick you into next Tuesday!” I said as I leaned on the ring ropes. ”And I won’t get into our motivations heading into this match again but I do have a question.

Who wants it more?” I asked before folding my arms. ”Mem, or you?”

Good question.

”We have me who has been competing on CC fairly regularly and we have you who just returned and is making her first CC appearance in months.” I added as io started pacing around the ring. ”So who will win the battle of the upstarts?”

It’s that simple.

”In the end it boils down to ring rust on your part Amelia.” I added as I brushed some hair over my shoulder. ”Feel free to prove me wrong but I can’t remember you don’t much after you left SCW the first time around, but I guess we’ll find out Sunday.”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”And I know opinions will be strong on this one! That said?” I added as walked to the centre of the ring. ”I need this win after that Victoria debacle and you’re my first opponent Amelia so get ready because the world needs a new hero and her name is Harper Mason, the Slaytanic Avenher and the comeback queen, see you on Sunday!”

Josh turned of the camera as the scene fades.

[color:#ffffff]2022- OWA Civil War[/color]

{The event has stopped recording, but Hampton's theme song continued playing as the German fans that filled the arena start packing up. Hendrix leans against the same steel steps he slammed Hampton face first in with hopes it would have been enough to gain Heavyweight supremacy. And despite the fact that Mark Michaels cost The Don the match, he's not even mad at Michaels, he's more pissed off at himself. He failed again. He went all in and put every single chip on the table and didn't draw the lucky card. Wiping the blood from his head that was caused by the Prestige Championship during the match from his eyes, he uses the ring to pull himself up to his feet, clenching his midsection…. And everything sinks in as he watches Hampton walking up the ramp, high fiving some remaining fans as the Immortal Heavyweight Championship is draped over his shoulder, almost mocking Hendrix unknowingly. Emotions that hasn't been shown in a while pour out of Hendrix- sadness knowing that he couldn't keep his promise to his family, embarrassment for not securing the deal with an injured Hampton that most others maybe could have done, and lastly, shame. Hendrix feels like he brought shame to his family name and to everyone he is around. After making his way around the ringside area, up the ramp and through the curtain, Hendrix falls to his knees before resting his head down when someone places their hand on his shoulder. He looks up, seeing his mentor and father figure Angelo standing beside him. He grabs underneath Hendrix's arm before helping him to his feet.

Angelo: "Look Anth-"

Hendrix: "....no. I failed, Angelo. I… I failed again. I let everyone down. I let my dead mother down. I let my dead father down. I let my aunt down, my uncle down, my cousins down, you down, Tony down, Marco down, Matteo down…. I let my…. My… little girl down…. I let Raelynn down…. And that hurts the worst of all. I'm done Angelo…. I'm done."

Angelo: "Anthony where are you going?!"

Hendrix: "..... I'm taking Raelynn and we're going away for a while. I'll be back.to take control of the family… but until then, you're in charge. Take care of them Angelo, please."

{Hendrix puts his hand on Angelo's shoulder and turns to walk off. That's when Angelo grabs Hendrix's arm, stopping him from leaving.}

Angelo: "NO that's quitter talk! Look, you were screwed out of the belt by Mark Michaels! Maybe we can talk to Remington and get you a rematch for the title and-"

Hendrix: "No. Remington is seemingly done with my partnership, so even if I wanted, he wouldn't grant me anything. And Mark Michaels didn't cost me anything… I cost myself the title match Angelo. I did everything that led to to me getting speared out of being World Champion. I'll see you soon Angelo."

{Hendrix removes his arm from Angelo's grip and walks off. After having his head stitched up and cleaning himself after a hard fought match, Hendrix dressed in his best suit and tie leaves the arena with his bag before entering the SUV that brings him to the airport. As he is driven to the airport, he reaches into his phone before dialing up a number.}

Raelynn: "Hey daddy!"

{Hearing her voice…. Seemingly washed away a lot of the pain for Hendrix at this moment.}

Hendrix: "Hey princess. I'm… I'm coming home… and um… we're going on a little vacation."

Raelynn: "Where are we going?"

Hendrix: "Wherever you want sweetheart."

Raelynn: "Can we go to Disney World?!?"

Hendrix: "Heh…. Yes we can go to Disney World. Daddy is about to arrive at the airport so I'll see you when I get back."

Raelynn: "I love you daddy!"

{Hendrix looks down at his lap, wiping his face from the tears that are producing right now.}

Hendrix: "... I love you too sweetheart."

{Hendrix hangs the phone up and sets it down on his lap. He just finished a chapter in his life, and he's semi ready to start the next.}

[Color:#ffffff]2025- High Stakes[/color]

“The Lyons Den. What's a Den when the supposed King of the Den isn't even the biggest name in the fight? The King is supposed to be the most feared of the Den, but you're not even the most feared in your own house hold. And one day, your little group of followers will seek to move away from you and leave you to rot in the jungle. You're a fraud Leader against a true Mafia leader, and you should know if you done your homework, that when facing the Don of a Mafia, we do anything and everything it will take to get rid of someone in my way. It's why I'm a former Champion. But even with that, I'm still locked past by everyone and thought to be something… bad even though I would have match of the night.


But, like always, I walk through those curtains and I'm met with applause. Every fucking time I do a match, I walk to the back and get greeted the same way- "woah Brandon that was really good! We didn't expect that from you! Great job!". Fuck all of you. This bullshit has to stop. Everyone single one of you treat me like I'm some special needs child that you feel like if you don't shower me in praise and glory even for losing, I'd quit or kill myself. It's almost like it's hypocritical of many to believe that the only time I quit a company is when those motherfuckers had to force a change of results in order for their oldies to remain at top because that's all they know. It's almost comical that it's always the case of "Good job, but almost there!". Bro I'm so tired of being the case of "almost there" while other undeserving fucktarts get opportunities after opportunities just because of their name.

They will put on horrible performances and lose four, five, six, ten times in a row and still get chosen over those that have been winning and busting their ass to not only improve in their craft, but to show their bosses that they're ready for the weight of the world to be dropped on their shoulders. And after so many years of busting my ass in the independent scene or in the spotlight of places like Omega Alliance Wrestling, Revolution1, Level Up Wrestling, and so on of busting MY ASS to become the man and star I am today to be passed over time and time again, it's disgusting. It's disturbing. And after the match I had with Mark Michaels, the praise I've gotten, I figured this time, I would get somewhere farther. I actually believed that I would get the respect I thought I deserved.

What more do I have to do? What more do I have to sacrifice? What would I have to change for a sniff of something big? Would I have to die and come back from the dead in a triumphant blaze of glory? Maybe if I joined a stable then maybe I'd get a bigger opportunity? Maybe if I walk up to the World Champion and tell him to gargle my ballsack and be edgy like these others are doing to get main TV time? Oh and before you ask who the fuck do I think I am, go back to last time I spoke where I told you all you will know and remember the name of Brandon Fucking Hendrix, and those fans and all my past victims know exactly who the fuck Brandon Hendrix is. But I can't get people that put me in these fucking matches to know who the fuck I am?!?! This is seriously Project Honor all over again."

"Ain't nobody on this brand is going to work harder than me in any way shape or form. If it comes to the gym, I will outrun you, out lift you, outperform you. I will do anything it takes to outdo you in the gym so the attention is on me and not them. On the mic I have practiced and practiced in the studio for ways to neutralize my victims in every single way possible. Hell, I have the dictionary saved on my phone and in my library so I can look up creative ways to tell you that you suck and that I'm better than you. Hell, I did an entire promo using different teachings: math, history, science, and so on explaining how I'm superior to others. And in that ring, I will adapt to any style need to be to outdo them. You throw in some seven foot four hundred pounds powerhouse and I will body them with the strength of one thousand strongmen to bring them down. You put me against a luchador and I will take to the sky like never seen before to steal the show. Throw me with a technical guy and I will show you my amateur wrestling background from college when I wipe the floor with you. Put me in an Ultimate Submission match versus the best submission artist in the game and I will use hundreds of ways to make you tap out with a fucking armbar. I will box with the best strikers in the world and get a first round knockout on their bitch ass.

I'm truly befuddled, but I know what I must do. I must let that dawg out in me. I must let that motherfucker out that broke a man's spine, then his spirit, then broke his lifeline on earth. I must be that motherfucker who will murder the entire horde of SCW. Maybe that's what is wanted of me? They see a man at six foot and six inches tall that weighs in at a clean two hundred and fifty pounds of pure pissed off muscle that can decapitate anyone's head from their neck. There are two hundred and six bones in the human body, but none of them will matter if a snapped spinal cord sends their body into shock.

If last week proved anything, it was that I was too complicated with my talent. I got distracted by the shining lights and standing ovation I was getting and it cost me the first chance I had in my OWA Redemption Arc. Because of that loss I had to punish myself by waking up at three in the morning and punching the bag until noon. I HAVE TO PUNISH MYSELF SO I DON'T MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE! AND IF I LOSE TO KONY THEN I MIGHT AS WELL BE LIKE MY CHILDHOOD HERO ROBIN WILLIAMS AND ERASE MY TIME ON THIS FUCKING EARTH! FOR YEARS I'VE GONE TO COMPANIES AND THEIR FUCKING OWNERS WOULD LOOK AT ME AND SAY "GOLLY BRANDON! YOU CAN DEFINITELY LEAD OUR COMPANY AS WORLD CHAMPION!". BUT THEN CONTINUE TO SCREW AND HOE ME OUT OF ANY OPPORTUNITY THEY HAVE FOR THEIR FUCKING GIGGLES AND HEHES!

As far as I know, the Roulette Championship match, that could be the last time I ever get a title match ever. When I first stepped into this, I was given everything I needed to become Champion. And I GAVE and I GAVE OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND THEY TOOK AND TOOK AND TOOK ABSOLUTELY EVERY FUCKING THING OUT OF MY SOUL JUST TO THROW ME AWAY LIKE I WAS BROKEN TOY WHEN THEY ARE TIRED OF TOYING WITH ME AND TRIES TO SEND MY CAREER TO THE ABYSS CALLED "WASTED". ALL THIS TIME PEOPLE CALLED ME "WASTED POTENTIAL BECAUSE I NEVER GOTTEN THE MAIN GOLD! ALL THE OTHER TITLES I'VE WON MEANT NOTHING TO THEM BECAUSE IT'S NOT THE BIG ONE AND BECAUSE IT'S NOT THE BIG ONE, THEY MEAN NOTHING! AND WHEN TIMES GOT WORSE, I'VE BEEN STOPPED AND ASKED "BRANDON WHY DO YOU KEEP KILLING YOURSELF FOR A DISTANT DREAM THAT MOST LIKELY NEVER COME TRUE?!?".

……… It's because I need this. It eats away at me every single day. It's like a sickness worse than the one slowly killing my heart that's picking away at my brain. And when I'm being told "You can't do it!", it's there in my head saying "YOU NEED THIS! DON'T YOU QUIT ON YOUR DREAMS BRANDON! IF YOU FIGHT FOR THE DREAMS YOU HAVE, THEN THEY'LL FIGHT EVEN STRONGER FOR YOU!". You see, I've been gifted with a trait called the "It Factor". I can walk into any room I'm in like nothing, make any conversations up no problem. I can do signings, media, photo shoots, get two hours of sleep, and go to that ring soon after and steal the show. And I did that……… I did that EVERY FUCKING NIGHT! I DELIVERED MY ALL EVERY. FUCKING. NIGHT! NONE OF YOU HAVE THE RIGHT QUESTION OR DISCREDIT ME! I DO THIS THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE DAYS A YEAR! EVERY NIGHT I DO THIS AND I'M STILL SHOCKED THAT MY DEDICATION AND LOVE FOR THIS BUSINESS CAN GET QUESTIONED DAILY!

I looked at my daughter and I promised her that daddy would place a title in her hands again so she can stand in between the tombstones of my parents so I can hang that picture up in my office so I can say "Mom, Dad… I fucking did it. Your son did it for you!". And I will say that by the end of this……… even if it's the last thing I ever do. I told you all that you will remember my name, and after it's all said and done, the name of Brandon Fucking Hendrix……… is never forgotten. Vincent, I promise you you will never forget me. And you will never forget the gamble you did that cost you the Roulette Championship to the Don.”

~*~Sometimes You Just Gotta~*~
New York City – Rooftop After the Fashion Show

The city glowed below them like a living constellation, heat rising in soft waves from the streets even though the night had settled. The rooftop bar was warm with laughter and clinking glassware, a curated kind of chaos where artists and models mingled in little orbits of their own self-importance. The kind of place where the drinks cost too much, but no one asked the price.

Bella blended into it effortlessly, though “blended” was the wrong word. She belonged here. Black sheer two-piece, the fabric whisper-thin in the right places, opaque where it needed to be. The soft golden lighting played along the curves of her shoulders and caught on the edges of her tattoos, turning her into something half sculpture, half wildfire.

Mattie Comier stood beside her, triumphant after another show that everyone in that room would pretend to understand more than they did. Her blazer was architectural, sharp in all the places fashion students sketched in their notebooks and never quite executed. She held a champagne flute like she’d been born with it in her hand.

Alanah Russow leaned against the railing nearby, wearing something flowing, tailored, and unmistakably Mattie, elegance with teeth. Her laughter floated effortlessly, her presence grounding in a way that felt like home.

Malachi was the contrast, black shirt, sleeves rolled, collar open, his one tattoo dark against his skin on the inside of his wrist, whiskey glass in hand. He watched Bella with that quiet, steady awareness he always had. He didn’t need to take up space to be seen. He was the space she gravitated toward without thinking.

Mattie tipped her glass toward him, smirking, "God, I miss making gear for you, Mal. You were my favorite mannequin.”

Mal didn’t miss a beat, "Yeah, well, one of us got smart enough to stop getting thrown into steel steps every week.”

Bella snorted into her drink.

Mattie flicked her hand dramatically, "You say that like I’m not still traumatized by Miles’ gear requests. The man dresses like a glitter bomb with abandonment issues.”

Alanah wheezed.

Mal lifted a brow, "Man looks like a peacock hit by the Aurora Borealis."

Bella laughed so hard she had to set her drink down, "He wakes up and chooses sequins.”

The group dissolved into that easy, familiar laughter that comes only from years of shared history, scars, inside jokes, late nights, and the kind of heartbreak you only survive together.

For a moment, just a moment, Bella felt weightless.

Then she heard it.

A High-pitched...piercing screech. The kind of voice that expected the world to rearrange itself around it. At the bar, a girl, early twenties, maybe, in designer everything, was nearly in tears. Not from sadness but from outrage.

“I said I requested the VIP Skyview lounge. This...” she waved a manicured hand at her perfectly fine surroundings, “....is not what I was told. Do you have any idea who my father is?”

The bartender looked like he had survived wars. Like real ones, especially evident by the tattoo on his bicep that Bella recognized as her grandfather has one.

A lot of people were staring, even some rolling their eyes. Some even pretended not to listen. Everyone silently agreeing to just let entitlement run its course.

Bella didn’t move at first but something inside her... shifted. A subtle tightening beneath the ribs and a spark catching on old fuel.

Alanah saw it happen, "Bella,” she warned, soft, almost pleading.

But it was already too late. Bella had already begun to step forward.

She didn’t storm. She didn’t rush. She just walked, the way a storm front rolls in.

The girl noticed her when the room’s attention tilted toward Bella, as if gravitational pull had changed.

The girl blinked at her, defensive by instinct, "Um...can I help you?”

Bella’s voice was calm. Calm in the way a blade lying flat is calm, "Yeah. You need to stop.”

The girl recoiled slightly, confusion flickering, "Excuse me—?”

Bella didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to, "Right now, you are losing your mind over a table. A piece of furniture. A seating arrangement in a bar on a Thursday night.”

The girl opened her mouth, indignant, but Bella didn’t let her speak, "There are people in the world right now deciding whether they can afford groceries. People rationing medication to make it through the month. People working three jobs and sleeping four hours because they don’t get to complain about where they sit.”

The girl’s face began to crack, not in anger, but confusion, as though no one had spoken to her like this in her entire life.

Bella stepped closer, not threatening, just unavoidable, "And you’re here... throwing a tantrum over not being perceived with the exact level of importance you think the world owes you.”

The silence that followed was full and sharp. Bella breathed out once, slowly, "Your privilege isn’t the problem. What you choose to do with it is.”

The girl looked down, embarrassment blooming where indignation had been. She nodded quietly, shrinking even smaller and stepped away.

No scene. No argument. Just understanding. And deep inside Bella had really wished for a moment that there would have been a scene, then maybe she could let out 2 weeks worth of pent up aggression.

But for now it was a lesson learned, sharp, but honest. Bella turned back.

Mattie had her brows raised to her hairline. Alanah’s eyes were soft, proud, but worried. Mal didn’t say anything, but his hand found Bella’s, fingers slipping into hers like he was anchoring her back into her own body.

She exhaled, long, tired, but steadier.

Mal’s thumb brushed her knuckles, "You needed to say it.”

Bella didn’t answer with words, just leaned her shoulder into his. The city glowed, the music picked up and most importantly their laughter returned.

Bella didn’t explode.

She simply reminded the world that she is fire with direction.

After the party, it was time for the long drive home. The city had settled into that hour where everything felt slower, softer, a little unreal. Streetlights washed the pavement in amber, and occasional headlights cut through the dark like passing ghosts. The laughter and neon and rooftop glow were behind them now, replaced by the hush of the night highway.

Mal drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting palm-up on the center console. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Bella’s hand found his automatically, fingers slipping into familiar spaces, fitting like the universe had designed them that way.

The radio hummed quietly, something low and bluesy, the kind of music that knew how to sit with silence without swallowing it.

Bella leaned her head against the window, watching the city blur past. She wasn’t tense. Not exactly. Just... full. Like she hadn’t realized how close to boiling she’d been until the lid finally clattered loose a little.

Mal glanced at her, voice low, "You alright?”

Bella huffed a short, humorless breath, "Define alright.”

Mal didn’t push. He just waited as Bella let the silence stretch before she actually answered.

“She was just... so clueless,” Bella murmured, "Like the world had never told her no and I don’t know why but it just....it pissed me off. Like something in me snapped.”

Mal nodded once, "Yeah. I saw.”

Bella turned to look at him, "You think I overreacted.”

He shook his head, "No. I think you reacted because you care too much.”

Bella blinked, unprepared for that answer.

Mal continued, eyes still on the road, “You carry everything on your back, Bells. You see someone drowning, even if it’s in a puddle they made themselves, you want to pull them out.”

Bella scoffed, "She didn’t look like she was drowning. She looked like she needed someone to knock her ego down three flights of stairs.”

Mal cracked the smallest smile, "Christ I love you but.... Yeah maybe. But you didn’t do it to humiliate her. You did it because you want people to wake up. You always have.”

Bella didn’t respond at first. Her throat was tight. Too tight for how calm she looked on the outside.

Mal squeezed her hand, grounding, "You feel everything at full volume, mo gra. You always have from the day I met you and beyond. That’s your strength. It’s also why you get burned.”

Bella exhaled slowly, voice quieter, "Feels like I’m always burning lately.”

“I know.” His answer was soft and certain.

Bella stared out the window again. The city lights gave way to quieter streets.

“I should be focused on Bea and Cassie at High Stakes. The match. Everything. That’s what’s next. That’s what I need to care about.” Her jaw tightened, "But instead I’m yelling at some rich brat in a designer dress like that’s the war I needed to fight tonight.”

Mal shook his head, "No. That was just the moment that tipped the glass. The match? The pressure? Cassie yapping online? Victoria before that. The whole damn tournament. It all piles up.” He paused, long enough that Bella looked back at him, "You break before you bend. Always have.”

Bella felt the words like a hand pressed against her ribs. Not harsh. Not judgment. Just truth. And love.

Mal continued, voice low, “But you didn’t break tonight. You let some of that fire out instead of letting it eat you from the inside.”

Bella swallowed. Hard. Her voice cracked just a little, “Feels like I’m still burning.”

Mal brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles without breaking eye contact with the road, "Then burn.” The word was quiet but fierce, "Just don’t burn alone.”

Bella’s breath hitched. The highway exit passed under them and home was close now.

She leaned across the console and rested her forehead against his shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just let her be there.

No fixing or explaining. Just his presence that was her anchor from completely flying off the handle and torching everything.

The kind of love that didn’t demand anything.

The kind that held steady through fire.


~*~Rules of Engagement: FAFO~*~

The camera found Bella where she liked it best, close enough to see the small crescent scar at the base of her thumb, far enough away that the rest remained private. The lights in the room were low, a single lamp throwing a hard strip of amber across her jaw. She sat on a battered leather chair, one booted foot braced against the rung, knuckles still rimmed with yesterday’s tape. There was no music, no fanfare. Just the quiet before the storm.

She didn’t smile. She let the words come out slow, deliberate, like a blade sliding from its sheath.

“Bea,” she started, voice flat and dangerous, "You get to the microphone and you ask if we’ve calmed down yet. You ask if my pain sensors have been triggered. You come at us like you’re the volume knob on the whole damn room.”

She laughed once, soft, contemptuous, "Here’s what I don’t need from you. Snark. Sarcasm. That little tinny laugh you think is an edge. You can’t intimidate me with condescension, and you definitely can’t scare me with a smug sentence wrapped in a question mark. Because here’s the real truth: I don’t care what you think I am. I care about what I do.”

Bella leaned forward until her elbows were on her knees, eyes hard enough to cut.

“You say we’re whining. You say we’re moaning. Cute. Real cute. You want to gaslight two hungry women who are coming for a match that actually matters. You want to call us fragile because you can’t see how ferocious we’re being. You want to reduce our fire to a flicker with a snotty tweet and a sip of something cold. That’s you at your best, small, cheap, theatrical.”

She spat the next words like they burned her tongue, "But you? You’re the one who’s got a problem. You’re convinced you’re a measuring stick, a yardline, the bar everyone else needs to clear. Newsflash, you’re more like a rusted fence. You look pretty until someone leans on you. And at High Stakes on November 2, I’m going to lean.”

Her voice dropped lower. The room felt smaller.

“Cassie,” she said, and the name came out like a strike, "You had the audacity to bring my family into this like you were quoting a footnote. You said Christian took my backbone, nah sweetness, my backbone is about to make your whiny bitch ass your worst fucking nightmare. BUT before we talk about that....You dragged my mother's name through your half-baked grievance like it’s a prop in your pity play. Let me be perfectly fucking clear.”

Bella’s hand cracked against her thigh, a hard punctuation.

“Leave Laura Phoenix out of your fucking mouths.”

She didn’t whisper it. She nailed it like a verdict, "My mother is not a weapon your lazy, entitled words get to pick up when you don’t like the outcome. You want to fight me? Fine. Drag my name through the mud if that’s the cheap costume you want to throw on. But drag the family through the gutter and I’ll burn the whole thing to the ground.”

She paused only long enough to let the warning settle, then smiled without warmth.

“Cassie, you want to posture about busted asses and missed anniversaries? You want to claim you earned a spot because the world is cruel to you? Sweetheart, hunger doesn’t look like you. Hunger looks like me. Hunger looks like the woman who’s been punched into the dirt more times than you’ve had outfits. I don’t need sympathy. I don’t need leverage. I don’t need a fucking pity parade and go bitching to the entire world the shortcomings. I need a target and you volunteered when you decided to be an absolute raging CUNT to anyone who would actually give you the time of fucking day.”

Bella’s voice shifted into a clinical whisper, razor-thin: “You made this about your ego. I made this about your education.”

She stood then, like a coiled thing, and the angle of the light changed and the room filled with a kind of predatory motion. She slid her hands into her hoodie pockets and studied the lens like it was a person she could measure.

“Bea, you talk about triggering pain sensors. Here’s one you didn’t foresee: I like it when it hurts, sweetness. I like the way pain sharpens me. I like the way it forces the rest of the world to pay attention. And Barnhart, you’ve had your time. You’ve had some sort of sniff at the throne. You’ve rubbed your damn fingers raw polishing it with every insincere smile. That throne? It’s filthy. It’s heavy and I’m not politely asking for a turn. I’m taking it.”

Her mouth went hard, "You two think we’re playing a game of lost-and-found. I don’t plan to look for anything. I plan to take what’s mine.”

Bella moved closer to the camera as if she could step through it into the faces that had been smirking at her online. Her voice dropped into a low, intimate growl.

“On Sunday, November 9th, at High Stakes, and in that Triple Threat where no fucking rules apply? That’s where the scoreboard gets honest. That’s where your histories stop being cute anecdotes and start being maps of how I’m going to beat the BOTH of you. Cassie, Bea, bring your bravado, your angles, your best little lines and the 2 brain cells combined that are in the running for third place. Bring your ‘I deserve this’ memes, your entourage of keyboards and clapping seals. Bring whatever you’ve got. Bring your husband if you want Bea. And whatever the fuck you have Cassie. Bring your legacies. Bring your ‘yes’ men. Hell, bring the whole circus.”

She let the sentence hang, then finished it clean.

“Because when the bell rings, there’s only one thing that counts. I’m not here to make a point. I’m not here to lecture you two about humility. I’m here to make you hurt and I’m here to leave you with nothing but the memory of my hands on your throat and the knowledge that you lost to the better woman. I’m here to make everyone who thought I was done swallow that pride right back down and shit themselves because now...I’m done being the stepping stone.”

Bella’s eyes narrowed, "And one final thing, you will keep my family out of your mouths. You will keep your petty accusations, your desperate tweets, and your stage-managed victimhood between you and your mirrors. You will look me in the eye, and you will earn every single line on your damn resume. Or you will be erased.”

She let out a breath that sounded almost like laughter. Not light. Not joking.

“You want to know how this ends? You’ll both learn it the hard way. You’ll both learn because I won’t stop until I’m standing where I’ve always been meant to be. I’ll see you twats in the ring. Bring everything. I’ll bring the wreckage.”

She stepped back. The camera trembled for a beat, then cut to black.

It was the week of High Stakes and after she had successfully tweeted her way onto the show Cassie Wolfe was facing Bella Madison and Bea Barnhart in what was originally a singles match between the two older women until Christian added Cassie to the match, can Cassie get the win?

Cassie’s hotel room, Tucson, Arizona
Tuesday the 4th of November 2025, 11:00am

So yeah, I’ve calmed down a little bit since last week.

Only a little mind you because I still find it insulting that Christian is so blinded by nostalgia that he’s blind to his own former champions’ failings as I had pointed out in the twitter shitstorm that I started last week but in the end? I got what I wanted, a spot on the High Stakes card.

Even so? I know Bella wasn’t make it easy for me, Bea? Beating her is practically a rite of passage in SCW’s Bombshell Division but because she’s a former champion? She gets special treatment.

Never mind the fact that her Mixed Tag Title Reign will Bill basically lasted for five minutes.

But more to the point? I’ve cooled off a bit since last week and today Josh has given me and Harper the day off from training so he could put the finishing touches on his induction speech, now, I don’t know what Harper is going to be doing for the day because I did invite her over to do some gaming but she wasn’t up for it so I’ve just been playing with myself!

Err, as in gaming with myself, not, well, you know!

”Come on! Come on!” I yelled at my monitor while furiously trying to beat this boss in Hollow Knight: Silksong on my PS5, then? I died, again. ”Damn it, I swear the only thing more frustrating that this game’s bosses is dealing with Christian’s bullshit!”

”Hey err, Cass? Are you in there?” Harper’s voice rang out from the other side of my hotel room door and I paused the game before setting my headset aside. ”You do remember that we were gonna meet downstairs for breakfast in the hotel restaurant, right?”

”Yeah, I do! I just figured I’d play some Silksong first.” I called back before reaching for my phone. ”I was only going to play for twenty minutes tops! You didn’t need to………….” it was at that point that I realized that I had been playing for roughly two hours rather than twenty minutes. ”OH SHIT!”

Needless to say, I quickly turned off my PS5, got out of my chair and answered the door to a bemused Harper. ”My, my, late for a breakfast date?” Harper teased and I rolled my eyes. ”Whatever will Josh think?”

”Get bent!” I responded as I rolled my eyes and Harper grinned. ”You didn’t eat without me, right?”

”No, I was waiting for you but one of the waitresses told me that the kitchen was closed for breakfast, hence why I’m here.” Harper responded as she shook her head and I could only give her an apologetic look. ”Luckily she recommended me a few good Breakfast spots in Tucson if you’re still down for going out.”

”I need to take a break from Silksong anyway, that one boss was driving me up the wall.” I admitted before grabbing my coat, hotel room keycard. ”How about we call it even by way of me paying for both of our meals?”

”Sounds good to me, and I’ll pay you back once we get our paychecks for High Stakes?” Harper offered and I nodded in agreement before we walked off.

Hell of a way to start the week before the biggest/last Supercard of the year, huh?

Bobo’s Restaurant, Tucson, Arizona
Tuesday the 4th of September 2025, 11:30am

After Harper tracked down that waitress that told her that the hotel restaurant was closed we asked her for recommendations, two of the places did creative breakfasts which we were not in the mood for so we ultimately went with this local diner which serves no frills food but is popular with the locals in Tucson.

Hey look, I was a stoner when I first got into professional wrestling, and sometimes my taste buds still act like I get the munchies on the regular.

But yeah, me and Harper have now been seated and have given our orders, the only left to do was wait.

”Between me basically ranting my way onto this year’s High Stakes and you fighting your two biggest rivals for the Bombshell Internet Title?” I asked with a small grin on my face while making myself comfortable. ”We’ve definitely had a hell of a time at this year’s High Stakes!”

”Tell me about it! Almost makes me pine for that damn babywear match against Bobbie from last year!”  Harper admitted as she shook her head. ”I swear to god I’ve gotta be the most cursed wrestler in either division when it comes to High Stakes!”

”Nah, at least you can say that you were never in danger of missing High Stakes!” I responded with a scoff as I shook my head. ”And you know what I had to do to get on the card in the first place! Almost makes me wonder why they didn’t run the Battle Royals again.”

”Yeah, at least that would’ve solved your “not being booked” problem.” Harper nodded in agreement before laughing a bit. ”Then again I probably would’ve tried to eliminate you from the match as revenge for last year, you know, to call it even!”

”You say that like Christian wouldn’t create a one on one “throw your opponent over the top rope and too the floor to win” match just for the hell of it and have that serve as the rubber match.” I pointed out as I shook my head and Harper laughed a bit before shaking her head. ”And now I’m trying to think of what he’d actually call that match!”

”Arena Floor is Lava maybe? Or “Falling Over the Top Rope Only Counts Here” in a play on Falls Count Anywhere?” Harper suggested and I shook my head with a slight laugh at her ideas. ”This is probably why I’m not cut out to be a fed owner, beyond all the difficulties of running a business? I put in way to much thought into that joke suggestion!”

”I’ll drink to that!” I responded with a grin before our food arrived.

Cassie’s Hotel Room, Tucson, Arizona
Wednesday the 5th of November 2025, 11:00am

*promo time*

As I got ready to cut my second promo for this year’s High Stakes? I wanted to set the record straight.

”So yeah, I guess I’d better address the twitter comments that got me on the High Stakes card huh?” I admitted after my webcam had started recording the promo and I got comfy. ”Do I regret tweeting any of that? No because I’d have fuck all to do on Sunday aside from be there for Josh’s Hall of Fame induction ceremony! Do I regret saying what I said about Candy? No because I was basically saying what everyone is afraid to admit about her!

Any other questions?” I asked before waiting patiently for about five seconds. ”No? Good, let’s move on to my actual role on Sunday night: make a match that would’ve been Bella defeating Bea in the most predicable conclusion ever by beating her and Bella!”

Yep.

”Oh and being the third wheel in the match off course, can’t forget that part!” I added as I brushed some hair over my shoulder. ”But you know what would be fucking hilarious ladies? Go on guess, I’ll give you all the time you need to figure it out! And by “all the time in the world? I off course mean……………

Five seconds after I finished that first sentence!” I stated with a grin as I leaned forward on my desk. ”The answer is simple, the woman who wasn’t even booked for this show, never mind this match originally, being the one who walks out the winner! Honestly that’s the kind of wrestling irony that I fucking live for! Anyway, let’s talk about my opponents, shall we?”

Starting with Bella.

”I swear if Bella’s in a similar spot this time next year then her downfall from the start of 2025 until the end of 2025 will need to be studied and I’m not even joking!” I added as I looked right into the camera. ”How it started: holding the Bombshell Internet Championship after years of trying, at the very least it gave me hope for my 2026 but I’m getting ahead of myself, how it ended? Random match with Bea freaking Barnhart turned into a Triple Threat because I refused to stay quiet and that third wheel might just win this thing and prove why Christian’s “former champion” defence for not booking me doesn’t hold up for shit!”

Next up? Bea.

”And speaking of former champions? Here we have Bea “does anyone actually remember my mixed tag team title reign” Barnhart! And that’s a trick question because the Barnharts held those titles for two damn weeks!” I stated as folded my arms. ”And honestly? The Bombshell Division’s punching bag somehow getting booked on this show is almost as insulting as that Candy shit but hey, at least I can rectify that soon enough!”

It’s that simple.

”All due respect to Bella and absolutely no respect to Bea? For me this match is about proving why Christian prioritizing former champs regardless of how long ago their reign was or how many people actually remember it over more deserving talent like me is a crock of shit!” I stated as I glared at the camera. ”Especially when I started this cycle by wrestling circles around the target of my frustration! But sure, act like I was the one in the wrong last week!”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”In the end? It just makes me more motivated to prove how full of shit people like Christian are!” I added as I leaned back in the chair. ”I know I can have a great match with Bella, Bea? Less so but if I have to beat them both at the Grand Prix of Professional Wrestling in The Pursuit of Validation? Fine! To all my fans? In a world of fake queens and full of shit owners! Be yourselves and be a Rebel Princess! And to Bella and Bea? Be ready because this Sunday at High Stakes I’ll be Hungry Like The Wolfe!”

I turned off the camera as the scene fades.