Clyde Sutter vs. Scarlett Carsons vs. Colleen MacDonald

[Kemal Yilmaz]

SCW Television Championship

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET SUNDAY, May 3, 2026

[The Assassin]

1 of 2
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April 18th, 2026
Charlotte, NC
Off Camera
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The building rose in clean lines of glass and steel above the Charlotte skyline, its upper floors catching the last light of early evening as the city shifted from the slow rhythm of the workday into something softer and more subdued. Inside, everything was quiet in the way expensive places often were, where sound seemed to be absorbed by polished surfaces and thick materials rather than allowed to echo freely. The lobby had been designed to impress without appearing to try too hard. Marble floors stretched in pale gray sheets beneath carefully placed lighting, and a single arrangement of white flowers sat at the center of a low table, fresh and deliberate.

Mason Van Stanton stepped out of the elevator onto his floor with the controlled ease of someone who had spent years mastering his composure. Even so, there was a faint heaviness in his posture tonight, something subtle in the way his shoulders sat just a fraction lower than usual. He adjusted the cuff of his coat as he walked down the corridor, his footsteps softened by the thick carpeting that ran the length of the hall. He looked every bit the man he had built himself into over the years. In his forties, Mason carried a polished, deliberate appearance that spoke of discipline and control. His dark hair, touched lightly with strands of gray at the temples, was neatly styled back, not a strand out of place. His suit was impeccably tailored, a deep charcoal that fit his frame with precision, paired with a crisp white shirt and a muted tie that added just enough contrast without drawing attention. Even after a full day, there was no sign of wear in his presentation. His shoes gleamed under the soft lighting, reflecting the same careful attention to detail that defined every part of him. Reaching his door, he paused for only a second, slipping his key into the lock and turning it with a quiet click. The door opened smoothly, revealing the interior of his apartment. The space beyond was expansive and modern, designed with a minimalist elegance that left nothing out of place. Floor to ceiling windows stretched along the far wall, offering a sweeping view of Charlotte as the city lights began to flicker on one by one. The skyline glowed faintly in the distance, a mix of warm and cool tones reflecting against the glass. Inside, the lighting was soft and ambient, recessed fixtures casting an even glow across sleek surfaces and carefully chosen furnishings. A large sectional sofa in a pale neutral tone dominated the living area, positioned to face both the view and a mounted screen that blended seamlessly into the wall. A low table of dark polished wood sat in front of it, its surface bare except for a single book placed precisely at its center. Everything about the room suggested order, control, and an almost meticulous avoidance of clutter. It was a space designed not just for comfort but for quiet authority. Mason stepped inside, closing the door behind him without a sound. He moved a few steps forward, loosening his tie slightly as he exhaled, his eyes beginning their usual sweep of the room.

That was when he saw him. Clyde Sutter sat on the sofa as though he had always belonged there, his presence cutting through the careful stillness of the apartment like something solid and immovable. He leaned back into the cushions with an ease that contrasted sharply with the precision of the space around him. One arm rested along the back of the sofa, the other draped loosely over his knee, his posture relaxed in a way that suggested both patience and control.

Mason stopped where he stood.

Clyde’s appearance had not softened since the last time Mason had seen him. If anything, there was a heavier edge to him now, something quieter but more settled. His long black hair fell freely around his shoulders, slightly tousled as though he had run his hands through it one too many times. He wore a dark jacket, unzipped to reveal a simple black shirt beneath, the fabric stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. His jeans were worn and practical, paired with heavy boots that looked entirely out of place against the pristine flooring of the apartment. There was a faint trace of the outside world clinging to him, the scent of cold air and something earthier, something that did not belong in a space like this. He looked like a man who carried his environment with him rather than adapting to wherever he went. Mason’s throat tightened before he even realized it. His fingers, still resting lightly against the knot of his tie, stilled completely. For a brief moment, his carefully maintained composure faltered, replaced by something far less controlled. Surprise came first, sharp and immediate. Then recognition settled in, bringing with it a quiet, creeping tension. And beneath it all, unmistakable and unwelcome, was fear.

“Clyde…” Mason gulps, his nerves clearly going crazy “...I wasn’t expecting…uh…how did you get here?”

“I drove.”

“Yes, but, uh, how did you get IN here?” Mason asks. “I left it locked.”

“You gave me a key. Remember? Back when you were my agent, you gave me a key just in case I needed it.”

“Right.” Mason curses himself over giving Sutter that key. “But, uh, what about Melinda? Shouldn’t you…”

“My beloved is perfectly fine.” Clyde answers sharply. “She is with her sister Fiona and their parents in Miami. I may not get along with Glory Braddock but I certainly trust her with the safey of my beloved Melinda.”

“Uh-huh…”

Clyde did not move right away. He simply watched, his gaze steady and unblinking, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment and had no intention of rushing it. There was nothing overtly aggressive in his posture, nothing that could be pointed to as a threat, and yet the weight of his presence filled the room in a way that made everything else feel suddenly smaller. The sound of Van Stanton’s own breathing, measured but just a little too deliberate. He straightened slightly, instinctively pulling himself back into the version of himself he preferred the world to see. His shoulders squared, his expression settling into something composed, controlled. But it was not quite enough to hide the tension that had already taken hold.

His mind moved quickly, searching for explanations, for reasons, for anything that might explain why Clyde Sutter was sitting in his home as though he had every right to be there. The question of how he had gotten in barely registered compared to the far more pressing concern of why. Clyde’s eyes followed him with a calm intensity, taking in every small shift, every subtle reaction. There was no urgency in him, no visible impatience. If anything, he looked comfortable, as though time itself had slowed to accommodate him. Mason took a careful step further into the room, the soft carpet giving way to the smooth flooring of the living space. His polished shoes made almost no sound, but to him, each movement felt louder than it should have.

“Do you have a problem with my visit, Mason?” Clyde asks. Mason, not wanting to offend him, or accidentally anger him, shakes his head.

“Uh, no, of course not. It’s just, you know, you DO have a match at SCW Hubris for the SCW Television Championship. I would think that you would be preparing for that, not visiting me.”

“Ah yes, the Television Title.” Sutter nods his head. “Scarlet Carsons and Colleen MacDonald believe that they are in control, they believe that they can control their own destinies, but the fact is that Fate has already written the script. I have already accepted it which is why I have the advantage. Ms. Carsons and Ms. MacDonald are too busy worrying themselves over this triple threat whereas I have placed my trust in Fate. Fate will bring the Television Championship home to me, Van Stanton. There is no need to worry yourself over that.”

The distance between them felt deliberate. Measured. Dangerous in a way that could not be easily defined. Mason let his hand fall away from his tie, the gesture incomplete, forgotten as his attention remained fixed on the man in front of him. The apartment, once a place of controlled quiet and personal sanctuary, no longer felt like his own. Clyde shifted slightly on the sofa, a small adjustment that somehow drew even more attention to him rather than less. The movement was unhurried, deliberate, as if he were reminding Mason that he was not going anywhere.

The city lights outside continued to brighten, their reflections stretching across the glass and casting faint patterns into the room. Inside, the air felt heavier, the silence thicker, charged with everything that had not yet been said. Mason finally came to a stop, standing just at the edge of the living area, his posture held together by habit more than ease. His gaze remained fixed on Clyde, his expression carefully controlled but his eyes betraying just enough tension to reveal what lay beneath. Clyde met that look without hesitation.

“Sit down.”

“I think I would rather stand, thanks.” Mason states uneasily.

“Suit yourself.” The Assassin shrugs his shoulders. “If you are afraid of what I might do then I assure you, you have nothing to be afraid of. Had I wanted to harm you, you would already be on the floor unconscious.”

“Right…” Mason gulps again “...uh, yeah, reassuring…”

“The truth is, Mason, that I came here to see you because I finally learned the truth about my origins.”

“You did?” Van Stanton furrows his brow out of confusion. “But I thought you already knew?”

“I knew bits and pieces but I never had the full picture. My sister,” he points a finger at Mason “the woman who has funded your managerial agency, she guided me along the path of revelations and what I learned was very intriguing indeed.”

This statement hits Mason Van Stanton very hard. He takes a small step back, hoping Sutter doesn’t notice. Mason is worried about what Clyde Sutter has learned from Lilith. He is worried about what Lilith has told him about his past. He is worried about how this imposing figure will respond to the truth.

“And, uh, what did you learn Clyde?”

“My father wasn’t just some religious freak, some cult leader like I was led to believe by people like you.” The Assassin stands up. This causes Mason to take another step back away from Clyde. “My father had built a small but organized criminal organization based around a quasi spiritual foundation. That criminal organization gave him power and influence. It gave him connections, sometimes powerful connections.”

“Really? You don’t say?”

“Indeed.” Clyde smiles for the first time since he arrived. “I always wanted to be a professional wrestler. Glenn Braddock and his wrestling school was my way in, or so I thought. When my inability to control my rage and violence caused me to get kicked out, I thought my dreams were over.” He points a finger at Mason. “But then YOU came along. You claimed that you had your own reasons for hating the Braddock family, just as I hated them for kicking me out of the wrestling school. You sold me on the story that we were getting our payback together. You told me that you were getting me into the wrestling industry to spite Glory Braddock and her family who you claimed had conspired to blackball me from the industry.”

“And that’s the truth!” Mason insists.

“Oh I know it is the truth.” Clyde nods his head. “But you left out one small detail. You neglected to mention that you had another powerful incentive behind helping me to achieve my dreams.”

“I don’t know what your sister told you but she is a liar.”

“The Van Stanton family owed my father a debt.” Clyde states. “Helping me break into the wrestling family was your way of repaying that debt. Am I correct?”

“Uh…” Mason tries to back away but Sutter closes the distance and growls menacingly.

“Do not lie to me, Mason.”

“Fine.” Van Stanton nods his head. “I admit it. You’re right. I mean, I did hate Glory Braddock and knowing how pissed she would be knowing that I brought you in to professional wrestling despite her best efforts to blackball you was brilliant, but I also knew that my family owed your family a debt, so I figured I was killing two birds with one stone.”

Mason Van Stanton has spent enough time around Clyde Sutter to know when trouble is brewing. He can tell already that The Assassin is growing more and more agitated. His temper is beginning to boil over. Mason braces himself for the worst as Clyde struggles to control his temper, to control his rage.

“I hate this, Mason.” Clyde shakes his head. “I absolutely detest this!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up!” Clyde exclaims loudly. “I thought I knew who I was, I spent years believing I knew my past. Then a sister I never knew I had shows up and destroys that reality. She drops a bombshell by telling me that there is more to my past that I was unaware of. I thought if I were to learn the truth about my past that maybe things would be better. I thought knowing the truth would help.”

“Sometimes the truth hurts, Clyde.”

“Obviously.” Sutter remarks coldly. “Now that I know the truth, now that I know about my past and more importantly, now that I know who the hell I am, I am honestly not sure…” his voice trails off.

“Not sure of what?”

“I am not sure if I want to continue down this current path I find myself on.”

Sutter walks back over to the sofa and sits down again. Mason watches him carefully, studying him. Mason is again nervous and fearful but not for his own well being but for Clyde’s. He has never seen The Assassin this emotional before.

“You need to be a little more clear otherwise I can’t help you.”

“When you found me, Mason, what was I? What kind of person was I?”

“You want honesty?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Mason sighs. “I saw an uncontrollable monster. I saw a weapon because I thought I could control that monster and use it for my own agenda. Obviously your anger and rage was too much even for me to control.”

“Correct and that anger, that rage, it cost me my relationship with my beloved Melinda. But I sought out help. And in seeking out help I discovered Fate. This philosophy, spirituality, whatever you wish to call it, calmed me. It gave me the tools and resources necessary to control that rage. Thus I was reunited with my beloved.”

“It seems like this path you’re on has been working for you.” Mason shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t see a problem.”

“The problem is that it seems as if EVERYTHING has been chosen for me from my conception to now. Every single detail of my life has seemingly been set up so I would succeed, from the orphanage I grew up in, to coincidentally finding my way to professional wrestling, to you coincidentally getting me into the business, all of it seems as if…as if…” his voice trails off.

“It seems as if you have no control.”

“Precisely.”

“But isn’t that what fate is all about? Or fatalism, at least. The idea that there is no free will? That’s what you preach.”

“I know and I truly believed that this path was the correct one. But after learning the truth about my father, the monster that he was, I know one thing for certain and that is that I do not wish to become like him.”

“How does your sister fit into all of this?”

“She wishes to form a closer bond with me.” Clyde answers. “She wants me to work with her, as brother and sister. But I fear if I do work with her, I risk becoming like my father. And if I refuse, if I abandon this path I am currently on, if I cast fate aside altogether…”

“You run the risk of becoming that same rage filled monster, the same monster that destroyed your relationship with Melinda once before.” Mason states, finishing Clyde’s thought for him. Sutter nods his head in confirmation.

“Right.”

Mason Van Stanton stares at Clyde Sutter, seated on the sofa, looking confused, looking distant, not sure what he should do. Mason, this con-man, actually feels pity for Clyde and wants to genuinely help. Van Stanton approaches Sutter and sits down next to him.

“Look, I am not going t o pretend to know anything about fate.”

“Yes…”

“What I do know is that every religion, philosophy, spirituality, what have you, even political ideologies, any of it can become dangerous if taken to an extreme.”

“What are you suggesting, Mason?”

“All I am saying is that maybe your father was a bit too much of an extremist when it came to fate? And maybe you are bordering on being an extremist too? You can still believe in fate and preach it, but maybe you should dial it back some? Maybe you should consider that fate might not control every single aspect of our lives?”

“That is an interesting question.” Clyde concedes.

“Think about it like this; we know that this fate spirituality or whatever did help you to calm down and control your rage, but did fate reunite you and Melinda? Or was that YOU who did the leg work? Was it YOU who won her trust and love back?”

There is a pause and silence as Sutter sits there and considers the question Mason Van Stanton just posed. Clyde has long since refused to believe that someone like him could ever win over someone like Melinda Braddock based on his own unworthy merits. But what if Mason is right? Perhaps Clyde isn’t giving himself enough credit? And maybe, just maybe, fate isn’t as in control as Sutter was led to believe?

“Mason…”

“Yes, Clyde?”

“Obviously you knew that your family owed my family a debt. Your brother Henry, he claims that he had no idea that his wife is my biological mother. Tell me the truth…how much does he know about me? About my family’s past?”

“I hate to say it, Clyde, but I have no idea.” Mason shakes his head. “You know me and Henry have never been that close. It is entirely possible that I knew things he didn’t and vice-versa.”

“Then I must speak to Henry myself.” Clyde stands up. “Forgive me for introducing, Mason. This has been a very enlightening conversation.”

“Right, but Clyde?”

“Yes?”

“If you want my advice, I think you should take your sister up on her offer.”

“Really?” Clyde asks, sounding surprised. “Why?”

“Lilith has connections, a lot more than I do. Plus she is your sister. If you really want connections to your past, to who you are, then you could learn all of that and so much more just by being around her.”

[The Assassin]

2 of 2
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April 23rd, 2026
Charlotte, NC
Off Camera
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A thin gravel road curved through a stretch of wooded land on the outskirts of Charlotte, far enough from the city that the glow of the skyline never quite reached it at night. The house sat back from the road, partially hidden behind tall pines and a scattering of older oak trees whose branches arched wide, filtering the late afternoon light into soft, shifting patterns across the yard. It was not ostentatious, not in the way wealth sometimes insisted on being seen, but there was no mistaking the care that had gone into it. The structure blended modern design with traditional Southern elements, clean lines softened by a wide front porch and tall windows framed in dark wood. Inside, the home carried a quiet warmth that felt lived in rather than curated. The living room opened out from the front entry, spacious but not overwhelming, anchored by a large stone fireplace that stretched up toward a vaulted ceiling. Exposed wooden beams crossed overhead, lending a sense of solidity to the space. The furniture had been chosen with comfort in mind but without sacrificing quality. A broad sectional sofa faced the fireplace, accompanied by two armchairs upholstered in a rich, neutral fabric. A low wooden table sat between them, its surface holding a few neatly arranged books and a ceramic bowl that looked handmade, imperfect in a way that made it feel deliberate. Tall windows lined one wall, offering a view of the property beyond. The land stretched out in gentle slopes, patches of green broken by clusters of trees and a narrow fence line in the distance. The light coming through the glass was softer here than in the city, warmer somehow, carrying with it the muted colors of the surrounding landscape.

Clyde Sutter sat on one end of the sectional, his presence immediately grounding the room in something heavier than its quiet design intended. He leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped as if holding himself in place. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, not quite as unkempt as it sometimes appeared but still lacking the careful polish of someone concerned with appearances. He wore a dark flannel shirt, sleeves rolled back to reveal strong forearms marked faintly by old scars and the natural wear of someone accustomed to physical work. His jeans were worn but clean, and his boots, though dusted from the outside, had been wiped enough to respect the space he was in. There was a tension in him that did not quite settle, even seated. It showed in the set of his shoulders, in the way his jaw shifted slightly as if he were holding back more than he intended to say. This was not a place that made him uncomfortable exactly, but neither was it a place where he could fully relax. He looked like a man who had come with purpose and had not yet decided how much of it he was willing to reveal. Across from him, Henry Van Stanton sat in one of the armchairs, his posture composed but far less rigid than his brother Mason’s ever was. Henry carried himself with a quiet confidence that felt earned rather than constructed. In his mid forties, he bore a resemblance to Mason in the structure of his face and the sharpness of his features, but where Mason’s appearance leaned toward precision, Henry’s had softened over time. His dark hair was shorter, touched with gray more openly, and his expression held a steadiness that suggested patience rather than control. He was dressed simply but well, a fitted button down shirt in a muted blue, sleeves rolled neatly at the cuffs, paired with dark trousers that looked comfortable rather than formal. He had the look of someone who could move easily between professional settings and quiet evenings at home without needing to change much about himself. Sitting back in the chair, one arm resting along the armrest, he watched Clyde with a measured attentiveness, his gaze thoughtful rather than guarded. Between them, Autumn Van Stanton sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Clyde, though there was a noticeable space between them that neither had yet closed. Her dark hair, the same deep shade as Clyde’s, fell in gentle waves past her shoulders, framing a face that held both strength and weariness in equal measure. She wore a light knit sweater in a warm neutral tone, paired with a long skirt that moved easily as she shifted slightly in her seat. There was nothing extravagant about her clothing, but it suited her completely, understated and graceful. A thin chain rested at her collarbone, simple but clearly meaningful. Her hands were folded loosely in her lap, fingers occasionally brushing together in a small, absent motion that betrayed a quiet nervousness she had not voiced.

The three of them formed a careful triangle of space and attention, each positioned close enough to speak easily but far enough to maintain a sense of distance. The room itself seemed to hold that distance with them, the quiet hum of the house settling into the background. Somewhere deeper inside, a faint sound of movement suggested the house was not entirely still, but nothing intruded on the moment unfolding in the living room.

“So…you had a visit with my Mason…” Henry’s voice is cautious, almost trepidatious. Henry does not trust his brother Mason. They have very different personalities. Whereas Mason has always been a con-artist, Henry has always tried to play it by what is right.

“Yes, I did.” He nods his head. “I understand that you do not like him…”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Regardless, he is in business with my sister, he knows certain truths about my past.”

“He could lie to you, Clyde.” Henry warns.

“What choice do I have but to hear what he has to say?” Clyde asks. “He also is the one who brought me into professional wrestling.” He studies Henry closely before shooting a knowing gaze at Autumn. “And you, Henry, you married my mother.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” Sutter remarks. “It would appear as if Fate has tied me up with the Van Stanton permanently. It would appear as if it were further evidence that Fate indeed controls everything. Yet I sit here with you having doubts about my own role in Fate’s grand plan, with doubts about Fate itself.” The Assassin chuckles softly. “Do you have any idea what it is like to have everything you thought you knew turn out to be absolute bullshit?”

“I can’t say that I have.” Henry remarks. “But I know loss…believe me…

“We want to help you, Clyde.” Autumn says softly. “But what is it exactly that you need from us? Are you just having a crisis of faith? Is that it?”

“A crisis of faith may sound so simple to you, mother, but to me it is a very dangerous thing.” Clyde remarks slowly, definitively. “My anger and my rage were uncontrollable. I was a monster before I was introduced to Fate. This philosophy of Fate gave me the tools necessary to control my temper. It helped to calm me. I believed that I truly had purpose. And with that purpose, that philosophy at my back, I would finally have success in professional wrestling. Two time MWE Television Champion. Former MWE Riot Champion. Former GCW World Tag Team Champion. Two time and current MWA World Tag Team Champion. And in Melbourne, Australia I will become a two time SCW Television Champion. But even with all of that great success, none of it compares to the greatest achievement of them all, the greatest gift of them all…” he sighs “...I got my beloved Melinda back.”

“I must admit you have been a very different person from when my brother managed your career.”

“I owe it all to Fate.” Clyde remarks. “Yet I now learn that I have become all but a carbon copy of my father.” He shakes his head. Anger flashes across the face of The Assassin. “I do NOT want to become like my father. So you see my dilemma? I can continue down this path of fate, the same path my father took, and be like him…or I let go, try to be someone different, and risk losing control again, risk losing everything I have earned…including Melinda…”

“Clyde,” Autumn, his mother reaches over and pats him on the back gently “anything taken to an extreme can be problematic. Even the virtues we think are wonderful can prove to be a vice if taken to an extreme.”

“Funny you say that…” Clyde’s voice trails off “...you sound like Mason.”

“Oh?” Henry arches his brow out of curiosity. “Is that what my brother told you?”

“Yes.” Clyde nods his head. “Do you disagree with his assessment of my situation?”

“No.” Henry shakes his head. “To be honest, I actually agree with him. I’m surprised some good advice could have come from my brother.”

“People can change, Henry.” Clyde answers. “I changed…by your own admission.”

“This is true.” Henry sighs. “Perhaps I am too hard on Mason? Perhaps I should give him another chance?”

“And perhaps I should give my sister a chance?”

“Lilith?” Autumn asks. Clyde nods his head.

“Yes. She wants me to work with her. She believes her connections and resources could help my own wrestling career and she wants to get involved in wrestling anyway. She sees me as her way in.”

“And what did Mason say about it?” Henry asks curiously.

“He thinks I should take her up on the offer.” Clyde answers. “He believes that working with Lilith could serve me well…not just with my wrestling career but even with learning more about my past, and better understanding who I am…”

“Well let me to one thing, Clyde.” Henry begins. “You are who you make yourself out to be. Your past doesn’t define you and despite what you may believe, fate doesn’t define you, either…at least not entirely. Maybe to some degree, but you are not completely helpless. You do have some control over your own destiny.”

“Do you really believe this?” Sutter asks. “Do you truly believe that I can let go of the memory of my father and be whoever I choose to be? That I can avoid being ensnared by Fate…and being ensnared by my rage?”

“Clyde…” Autumn chimes in “...I know you can.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“Listen to me.” She says. “I know you can do it because I saw it first hand; YOU claim Fate put you and Melinda back together but you’re wrong. Fate may have helped calm you, it may have given you purpose, but YOU were the one who earned Melinda’s trust and love back. You ultimately won Melinda Braddock back. She fell in love with YOU…not Fate.”

“She’s right, you know.” Henry states. “And remember, extremism in any form is bad.”

“But…” he shakes his head “..who or what would I be without Fate?”

“No one is asking you to abandon Fate.” Autumn says. “Just…take a second look at it? Redefine what it means to you.”

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On Camera
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The camera begins to roll. The alley cut between two aging brick buildings just far enough from the main street that the city’s noise dulled into a distant, restless hum. It was the kind of place people passed without noticing, a narrow stretch of cracked pavement and uneven concrete that seemed permanently caught between use and abandonment. Faded graffiti layered the walls in overlapping colors, some vibrant and recent, others worn down to ghostlike outlines. Rusted metal fire escapes clung to the buildings above, their shadows stretching downward in crooked lines as the light from a single overhead fixture flickered uncertainly. The air carried a mix of scents that never quite faded. Damp stone, old trash, and the faint lingering trace of something chemical, sharp enough to sting at the edges of the senses. A dented dumpster sat near the far end, its lid half open, while scattered debris gathered in corners where the wind had pushed it and forgotten it. Water from a recent rain had collected in shallow puddles along the uneven ground, reflecting distorted fragments of light and shadow.

And in the middle of it all, standing as though they had stepped out of an entirely different world, were Clyde Sutter and Melinda Braddock. Clyde stood near the wall, his broad frame outlined by the dim overhead light. There was nothing casual about his appearance tonight. He had traded his usual rugged practicality for something far sharper. A tailored black coat fell cleanly along his shoulders, cut to emphasize the strength of his build without restricting it. Beneath it, a dark shirt sat perfectly fitted, the fabric smooth and unwrinkled, tucked neatly into a pair of pressed trousers that fell straight to polished shoes. Even his long black hair, often left to fall naturally, had been pulled back and styled with care, giving him a more deliberate, controlled look. The transformation did not soften him. If anything, it made him appear more formidable, like something refined without losing any of its edge. Beside him, Melinda Braddock stood with a composed stillness that matched his in intensity but contrasted it in style. Where Clyde’s presence carried weight and solidity, Melinda’s was sleek and striking, defined by elegance rather than force. Her blonde hair fell in smooth, polished waves over her shoulders, catching what little light the alley offered and reflecting it in soft highlights. Every strand seemed deliberately placed, not a hint of disorder breaking the symmetry of her look. She wore a fitted coat in a deep, rich tone that complemented her complexion, the material structured yet fluid enough to move with her. Beneath it, a carefully chosen outfit added layers of texture and contrast, subtle but unmistakably high end. The lines of her clothing were clean and intentional, emphasizing her figure without appearing excessive. Her heels, impractical for the uneven ground beneath her, clicked softly when she shifted her weight, the sound sharp and precise against the muted environment.

“Fate sets up the game. Fate sets the rules. It is up to us how we play the game.” Melinda Braddock, The Third Generation Goddess, says with a smirk on her lovely face. “But none of us get to change the rules. None of us get to change the opportunities Fate presents us. We must play the hand that Fate deals us and hope that we can get the job done. And in the case of my man, The Harbinger of Fate,” she looks over at Clyde and then back at the camera “he can definitely get the job done. Unlike Scarlet Carsons and Colleen MacDonald.”

“Fate has dealt the cards. Fate has planned from the beginning that SCW Hubris would be the time and place for this situation between the three of us to end.” Sutter answers coldly. “Ms. MacDonald, you were dealt with a very bad hand. You WERE the SCW Underground Champion but you lost your lofty position. Despite every single attempt, even the pathetic attempt of having to get Xander Valentine to win on your behalf, you still could not overcome the mountain that was Enigma. So Fate gave you another opportunity, another path if you will, the path of the Television Championship and, I must admit, you have taken that opportunity Fate gifted you and you made it your own. You have made your own opportunities with that television title. You have even done what many refused to do…you defended it on pay per views. I am willing to give credit where it is due. You have proven myself and others wrong about your championship credentials.” He shakes his head.

“It is almost like a fairy tale, is it not? The problem is that fairy tales do not always have a happy ending. The reality is always much harsher than the fairy tale and your reality is that this great run of yours is inevitably going to come to an end. All things must come to an end for it is Fate’s will. When we first went one on one for that Television Title, you SURVIVED. You did NOT win, you SURVIVED. Is it any wonder that I would still be coming after you? Is it any wonder that this issue between you and I is far from over? You did not beat me, Ms. MacDonald, and I will not go away until you can put me down. Fate will not be denied and that championship will be mine.”

“Oh but Clyde, don’t forget about Scarlet.” Melinda smirks knowingly. “She thinks that she get a raw deal because you interfered with HER opportunity.”

“Ah yes, her…opportunity…” Sutter grins “...Ms. Carsons, your so-called ‘opportunity’ for the Television Title was never meant to be. That opportunity was mine, not yours. Fate had willed it. I merely took matters into my own hands and enforced the will of Fate.” He nods his head. “However, I will also give you credit, you were bold enough to fight back, to try and seize upon another opportunity, an opportunity at Hubris. An apt named show because you are overcome with hubris if you believe that you can change the plans of fate to that degree. You may have managed to insert yourself into a situation that did not concern you, you may have managed to get yet another Television Title Match in Melbourne, but that is as far as you get. In Melbourne, Australia you will just be another victim of The Assassin.”

“Colleen and Scarlet…two pathetic victims…” Melinda snickers.

“Yes, my beloved, it is pathetic. It is pathetic that they believe they can take on forces they cannot possibly comprehend. It is pathetic that they believe that they can control and even change their own destinies to the degree that they intend to at Hubris. That is the great HUBRIS of humanity…the belief that humanity is in control. It takes a force of nature like myself to bring people like Ms. Carsons and Ms. MacDonald back to reality. It takes someone like me to end the fairy tale and remind the world just what I am capable of…and that is precisely what I will do at Hubris when I put both of you down and I tear the Television Championship away from Colleen MacDonald.”

“Your Fate is sealed, ladies.” Braddock remarks with a wink.

[Jay Gold]

Part 1 of 2.  Text appearances from David Striker have had handler approval.


Colleen's Chronicles: Chapter 24 - Outbacking

[Jay Gold]

Part 2 of 2.

Colleen's Chronicles: Chapter 26 - Overheating