Off Camera
The Rotterdam harbor hums with life as the afternoon sun reflects off the gentle waves. Boats shift along the docks, some preparing for departure, others floating idly in place. The salty scent of the water mixes with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and steeping herbal tea from a nearby café. The voices of passersby fill the air, but the ambiance near Song and Master Lilly remains undisturbed—secluded enough for Song to open up to Master Lilly.
At a small outdoor table near the docks, Song sits with her tea, swirling it absently in her cup, eyes scanning the harbor with a distant focus. Across from her, Master Lilly takes a measured sip of coffee, patiently waiting as Song exhales sharply, leaning back in her chair, tapping her fingers lightly against the table’s surface.
Song: I should still be in Vegas.
The words slip out casually, but there's no mistaking the weight behind them. She shakes her head, eyes shifting back to Master Lilly.
Song: Tell me, what’s the point of this match? A tag team match? Right before a Fatal Four-Way? They know I have the most tag experience out of anyone in this damn match, but instead of letting that mean something, they pair me with Lilith Locke—someone who doesn’t give a damn and will just cheat because she has to.
She scoffs, shaking her head again.
Master Lilly, ever composed, sets her coffee down gently, looking at Song with the patience of someone who has guided many fighters before.
Master Lilly: SCW doesn’t care about the logic of it. They care about tension. Drama. They want to see if Lilith and you will implode before the Fatal Four-Way.
Song laughs under her breath, though there’s little amusement behind it.
Song: And the funny thing is? I know she barely beat me last time. She held the ropes. She had to. Because if she didn’t, I’d have popped up like nothing happened. Just like I did after the three count, her moves meant nothing. Because guess what? They didn’t. SCW wants tension? Fine. They’ll get it.
She leans forward slightly, gripping the tea cup just a bit tighter.
Song: But what they won’t get? Some magical, harmonious team effort from Lilith and me. She’s not my partner—she’s a body in the ring next to me, that’s all.
Master Lilly nods slowly, watching Song work through the frustration.
Master Lilly: But you want to win this match.
Song exhales, thoughtful for a beat, then nods.
Song: I do. And I know, whether I like it or not, Lilith and I actually have the advantage. Me, because I know tag wrestling better than anyone in SCW. Her, because she will take every shortcut available to her.
Master Lilly smirks slightly, lifting her coffee cup again.
Master Lilly: So use it. Let her cheat. As long as it helps you going into the Fatal Four-Way.
Before Song can reply, her phone vibrates on the table.
The screen lights up—Loti is calling.
Song glances down, smirks, then picks up.
Song: Morning, love. I hope you slept well.
Loti’s voice comes through, light and warm, despite the early hours back in Vegas.
Loti: Just checking in. Making sure you haven’t gotten yourself into too much trouble out there.
Song laughs, shaking her head, her shoulders relaxing just slightly.
Song: Not yet. But give me a few hours and ask me that again.
Song says jokingly as Master Lilly simply sips her coffee. Song exchanges a few brief words with Loti before hanging up.
As Song sets the phone down, she exhales, her frustration still present—but now mixed with a sharper focus. She looks back at Master Lilly.
Song: Fine. I’ll play along. Lilith can cheat if she wants—I don’t care. But when we get to the Fatal Four-Way? She’ll learn real fast why she had to hold the ropes the last time she fought me.
Master Lilly smiles slightly, satisfied with the shift in mindset.
Master Lilly: That’s more like it. Now, I know you wanted to come out here to visit an old friend so I will take the hour train ride to Amsterdam. I am leaving you the rental car, I expect to see you at the hotel later tonight.
Song: I won’t be long, just going to have a smoke and with an old friend, then will drive over to the hotel.
Master Lilly: Well, let me record you speaking briefly about your tag match before I leave then.
Master Lilly opens up her purse to take out a small gopro camera to record Song.
On Camera
The Rotterdam harbor stretches wide behind Song, the waters rippling under the soft afternoon light. The sky is a moody blend of gray and pale blue, shifting between overcast and moments of weak sun breaking through. A cool breeze pushes in from the docks, carrying the scent of seawater that mixes in with the scent of the nearby café—coffee, spice, and Dutch teas.
Song stands center-frame, posture unwavering, feet planted firm on the slightly worn pavement near the edge of the harbor. A fitted black windbreaker, unzipped just halfway, reveals a simple gray athletic tank beneath along with dark jeans blending seamlessly into the scene—practical, unassuming, yet carrying the unmistakable presence of someone ready to fight.
Song exhales, scanning the waters briefly before turning a sharp gaze to the camera, eyes locked in, expression calm—but holding just enough bite to make it clear this moment matters.
Song: A tag match. Before a Fatal Four-Way.
A scoff. Just enough to break the silence. Song shakes a head slightly, the corner of a mouth twitching—not quite a smile, but something close to a smirk.
Song: SCW sure loves making things interesting, don’t they?
Hands slide into jacket pockets briefly, a pause to weigh the next words. Then, just as smoothly, fingers emerge, flexing lightly as Song continues.
Song: Here’s the thing—you don’t need to remind me that I have more tag experience than anyone in this match. I know it. You know it. SCW knows it. Hell, I built myself up as a tag team wrestler for years. One that wins fair, by the book. And now they pair me with Lilith Locke—someone who needs to cheat because that’s the only way to get the job done.
A pause. A shift in weight, just slightly. The wind teases strands of hair, but Song doesn’t move. The stance remains firm, focused.
Song: Lilith, I remember our match months ago. I remember how you wrestled. And I remember how, when it came down to it, you couldn’t keep me down. So you grabbed the ropes, pinned me cheap, and then acted like it actually meant something.
A single breath—sharp, deliberate, measured. A glance toward the water, brief, before locking back onto the lens.
Song: So now we’re teaming up. Which means, for better or worse, there’s an advantage. I know tag wrestling. You know shortcuts. And whether I trust you doesn’t matter—because I don’t have to. This match isn’t about alliances—it’s about control. And as long as you don’t get in my way, I’ll let you do what you do best.
The smirk fades. Seriousness settles in. The stance remains unshaken.
Song: But make no mistake. When we step into that Fatal Four-Way? There are no teams. There are no partners. And you? You won’t have the ropes to save you this time.
A shift forward—just slightly, closing the distance, making sure the message is heard. The voice doesn’t rise—it sharpens.
Song: SCW wants tension? They’ll get it. But at the end of this? I won’t be looking for a win with you, Lilith. I’ll be looking to prove exactly why you had to cheat the last time. And why this time, there’s no escape.
A slow exhale, measured, methodical. A glance toward the waters, then a step back. Without another word, Song turns, walking off, the wind catching at the hem of the jacket as the scene fades… only to come right back…
The harbor still hums with life, but the focus remains entirely on Song, standing firm in the frame once more. The wind picks up slightly, causing the hem of the jacket to shift, but Song remains steady, gaze locked onto the lens with purpose.
Song: Thought I was done? Not yet.
A pause—intentional. No rush. Just enough weight to let the moment settle before continuing.
Song: Victoria Lyons and Harper Mason. Two people forced to stand side by side when they’d rather be across from each other. A champion and her so-called favorite—or should I say her rival? Either way, it doesn’t matter, because what I see isn't a team. It’s just two people trying to survive one match together before they go right back to tearing each other apart.
Song shakes her head slightly, subtle amusement flickering in her expression—but never fully settling into a smile.
Song: SCW put Mason and Lyons together for tension, for conflict, for uncertainty. But my team? At least Lilith Locke and I know how to win—even if our methods are different. That’s what makes this match dangerous. Not trust—results.
Song steps forward slightly, movement slow, deliberate.
Song: Lyons can talk about dominance. Mason can talk about respect. And after this match? They can keep talking. Because I’ll keep winning. And when Into the Void IX is over? I won’t be looking up at anyone. I’ll be standing—with championship gold in hand. But I can’t get too ahead of myself. First the tag team match. I will see you ladies this Sunday.
With that, Song finally turns, this time for good, walking off down the dock as the wind carries the last lingering energy of the moment.
