05-01-2026, 01:49 PM
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.
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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.”
==========
On Camera
==========
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.
![[Image: XJiTNy0.png]](https://i.imgur.com/XJiTNy0.png)
Career Achievements
MWE Television Champion 2x
MWE Riot Champion 1x
GCW World Tag Team Champion 1x
SCW Television Champion 1x
MWA World Tag Team Champion 2x