Sometimes Dexter forgot how sore wrestling could make him.

One would question how in the hell a wrestler could forget something like that when they got physical with other people on a roughly weekly-ish basis or something along those lines, but it had been quite some time since he’d had a match as physical as the one he’d gone through at Under Attack. He didn’t compete in one of those godforsaken chambers, but he’d still been speared off the stage through a bunch of production equipment, pulled himself back up and proceed to wrestle a 20-something minute match with a man who was so blinded by his own image that he concocted a problem to justify going to such extreme lengths to put an end to the Digital Detoxer.

‘I wonder if Rayne Young was paying attention to that nonsense with Blake Mason and Selena Frost?’ was a thought that ran through Dexter’s mind, finding it laughable in hindsight that Rayne took issue with Wendell swiping his phone because of the ‘risk of exposing private information’ when that had actually happened between two other wrestlers and all it took was a phone call and paying off someone in SCW’s HR department.

Further proof that SCW really wasn’t the company for someone as sensitive as Rayne Young, but Dexter has already made his statement at the man’s expense and was shifting focus to the next step in his fight.

Buying an RV.

Perhaps a random jump in plans when compared to whatever he should be doing next in using SCW as his platform to tear down the grand empire of social media, but Dexter had come to a realization in the few months he’d been on the SCW roster: his pickup truck, which had been trusty and reliable ever since he’d gone off the grid when it came to getting him where he needed to be, was too old to handle the extensive traveling required of him by the company, and that was even when he mentally cut out the extra bookings in house shows and live tours he tried to weasel his way out of through his refusal to provide entertainment to the mindless masses where his message had to rely on others spreading it through the very online platforms he was trying to destroy in the first place.

The vehicle had remained as reliable as ever, but Dexter had been mindful of the maintenance he’d been doing more frequently on it. Plain and simple, the truck was an ancient model he’d bought on the cheap with some of the money he’d gotten from selling the far more modern car he’d used to own when he was still one of the many enslaved by their screens, spent the rest on any parts he couldn’t salvage from junkyards, and put a solid year of work into getting it up and running before he began resurfacing in the public eye to make his soapbox speeches. The truck had been rebuilt to be a sturdy bastard, which Dexter cared more for than the ‘online attraction’ he saw his former car as, but he knew it couldn’t handle the wear and tear of SCW’s ridiculous touring.

Case in point: Under Attack had been in Detroit, and then after the break following that event SCW had actually come to his neck of the words in San Francisco (not that anybody actually knew that, and he’d make damn sure it stayed that way) before jumping to Denver, back up to Canada, then all the way to Baltimore and then coming back this way to Sacramento, and that was just this upcoming month alone!

“Why the hell do they need to make this so complicated?” Dexter huffed as he pulled the truck up to an auto repair shop on the edge of town, at least appreciating how out of the way this place was.

“Would it be safe to say SCW’s just trying to hit whatever city feels the most profitable from ticket sales during those dates?” Wendell offered from the passenger seat. If it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t drive two vehicles simultaneously, Dexter would have omitted his associate from this trip, but he wasn’t about to take a walk that would amount to a couple of hours to go from his shack hidden in the woods to this place, not considering he was still bandaged up and recovering from taking a damn spear off the stage through a bunch of media junk.

“That’s a good answer Wendell,” Dexter replied as he stepped out of the truck, with Wendell not too far behind him. Dexter had been grateful that what he was here for had been found through an ad in the paper, because it was painfully clear these days that nobody selling anything online could be trusted regardless of where you were trying to digitally peddle your wares. This was at least more trustworthy than gambling on something sturdy and reliable from someone you weren’t likely to meet face-to-face, and the seller being the owner of a shop like this was already a good sign of the quality he was looking for.

“Can I help you gentlemen with anything?” they were asked as soon as they stepped through the door, courtesy of a burly-looking man with a thick mustache manning the counter.

“Name’s Dexter,” Dexter bluntly cut to the chase. “I spoke with the owner of this shop recently about purchasing an RV he was selling?”

“I thought I recognized your voice,” the man laughed. Dexter could see how this guy seemed to have a solid business going if the number of cars being worked on behind him was any indication, but his jovial attitude just seemed to rub Dexter the wrong way. Perhaps a sign his brain had been too cynical about the world for too long? “Name’s Andre, I’m the big man who owns this shop and the RV, though that second one will probably be changing here in a few minutes.”

“Why are you selling it, if you don’t mind us asking?” Wendell couldn’t help but ask, earning him a brief glare from Dexter who honestly could care less as long as he had the vehicle and it was able to run.

“I just don’t have a need for it anymore,” Andre shrugged. “Going camping and on road trips with my family hasn’t felt like an option for the past few years with the way everything is, so I’d rather see it go to someone who will get use out of it while I can put money away for my kids’ college funds.”

“A truly worthwhile endeavor,” Dexter nodded, putting on a front that he was the slightest bit interested. In reality, he was restraining himself from grilling the man about how he advertised his business and preaching his truth to a seemingly humble mechanic. As nice as it would be to have someone else willing to join his fight, he knew that he’d probably lose this deal if he gave this guy even the slightest hint that he was…what was it people had called him for his stance against social media? A nutcase? A lunatic? A savior would be the correct term he’d use, but others would only realize that if they ever put their damn phones down and listened.

“I’ll tell Max to pull it around so you can take a look at it for yourself, then we can get down to business and whatnot,” Andre stated before he wandered off to go grab one of his active employees to fetch the RV.

Dexter didn’t bother to pay attention to the interaction. His brain was instead fixated on that name. Max…he was probably reading too much into it considering it was such a common name, but he was hopeful that was the case and it wasn’t someone specific he was thinking of. It was probably just a coincidence, like SCW telling him not to even bother showing up for this recent Breakdown despite it being in his technically unknown hometown, or this upcoming set of Breakdowns being some special thing that he saw straight through but was being forced to take part anyway because of ‘contractual obligations.’

Two words Dexter hated with a burning passion so hot it would put a nuclear explosion to shame.

He understood the concept. Whoever booked the matches was essentially given a vacation and every match would be determined completely at random by the spin of a wheel, leaving whoever was drawn for said matches scrambling to prepare for someone they’ve never studied and under circumstances they may normally not feel comfortable with. He almost wanted to scoff at how much of a sham the whole thing was, desiring to question just how ‘random’ these matches truly were as opposed to the whole thing being a ploy to get away with flashier or more violent matches on television by blaming it all on sheer luck.

The whole idea infuriated him. He wasn’t in SCW to be a monkey on a leash, dancing on command for people that were programmed to hate him. His purpose was to try and unbrainwash the masses by proving that you didn’t need technology or social media to make something of yourself even in this day and age, and Fatal Fortunes was, for all intents and purposes, a giant marketing stunt meant to put the roster through the ringer for online attention to keep promoting the belief that SCW was the biggest and best wrestling company around.

Unfortunately, the puppet masters hiding behind their computer screens and telling SCW staff what to do for that precious online buzz had played this one brilliantly. By keeping him out of sight and out of mind this past Breakdown, they could enforce the legally binding words he’d knowingly shackled himself to for the sake of his cause to force his name to be on the list whether he wanted to be a part of this game or not. Trying to skip out on the next two shows ran the risk of termination, and Dexter couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity now that he was starting to get a foothold in SCW’s process. His only true out would’ve been to not be medically cleared, but that would’ve meant rolling over at Under Attack and letting Rayne’s misguided efforts be rewarded, and that didn’t click with Dexter’s agenda.

Then again, considering he hadn’t even been mentioned on Breakdown at all, his impressive fight easily overshadowed by the three chamber matches like he knew it would be, was it ultimately worth it?

‘Maybe not in their eyes,’ Dexter thought to himself as he and Wendell found themselves outside again, with Andre joining them shortly after while they waited for the RV to be pulled around. ‘But if I got through even a little bit to Rayne, especially with the whole Blake/Selena stunt proving that he got upset with me about privacy when I was never his enemy, then perhaps in the long run it will all work out.’

The long run honestly felt like Dexter’s best bet at this point, given how slow progress had been. Nothing against his fight, considering he was, for all intents and purposes, undefeated right now, but marching onward and making his voice be heard somehow, someway, had to ultimately yield results. The easy answer would be to just win a championship or go straight for someone at the top, but that was so easy it might as well have been a meme or a trend at this point. Blake had done it, James and Waylon had just done it this past show, same with Konrad…to follow the trend would make him a blind hypocrite.

Thankfully, Dexter could stop thinking about it for a moment when the RV finally pulled around. It was a Winnebago Revel, an RV that by default came with everything he’d need while traveling for SCW, from a pair of beds so he and Wendell could each have their own to a bath that effectively eliminated the need for wasting money on a hotel room and getting odd looks from just walking through the lobby.

“Here she is,” Andre happily declared. “Like I said, it’s been on a few trips, but any issues that might’ve spawned from them have already been fixed up and this baby’s practically good as new.”

Dexter nodded, unable to resist the low whistle of appreciation for what he was looking at. “You mind if I check out the inside before I hand over any payment, just to be sure?”

“I’d expect nothing less from a serious buyer covering all their bases,” Andre laughed, and as Dexter began to approach the RV to tour the interior, he sighed and rolled his eyes. The thought of needing to lighten up a bit so he wasn’t so cynical all the damn time crossed his mind again, but he could hardly find a good reason to let his guard down when he was constantly trying to make himself social enemy number one for daring to threaten the downfall of the modern world before it collapsed and took all of humanity with it.

The door to the RV opened as the mechanic stepped out, and once he locked eyes with Dexter, the Digital Detoxer found himself cursing his rotten luck about the name Max he’d heard earlier.

“Dex?” the man, whose jumpsuit had a patch with the name ‘Max’ on it like a nametag, questioned.

“You know him, Max?” Andre called as he walked over, both he and Wendell now interested in this potential turn of events.

“...like I said, I’m checking out the interior,” Dexter just said after a tense moment. “Wendell, you get ready to pay the man so we can hit the road.”

“I…” Wendell started to say before Dexter reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of cash before tossing it to his flunkie, who quickly scrambled to catch it.

Once he confirmed Wendell had his part of the payment secured, he stepped around Max despite the man’s best efforts to stand in his way before stepping inside. He let his eyes take in the interior of the RV, making his brain appreciate how well-kept it was and moving to confirm everything was functional. He refused to let his brain linger on the sight of…

“Dex? What the hell, bro?” that voice called again, and Dexter tried to ignore it even as he saw Max step back inside, clearly not looking to let this meeting slip through his fingers that easily. “Why are you ignoring me?”

“Shouldn’t you be doing your job, Max?” Dexter huffed as he tried to focus on the sink. “Congrats, by the way…seems like you found yourself a pretty stable job.”

“Thanks, but it would mean so much more if my brother would actually turn around and talk to me,” Max replied, and Dexter could only hiss through his teeth and slowly turn to face the man that he could now confirm was, indeed, his younger brother.

Maxwell Grant (since their parents had an odd fixation on the idea of both of their kids having the letter ‘X’ somewhere in their names) was Dexter’s younger brother, and he’d looked up to Dexter like he was already some sort of icon for most of their lives. The two rarely fought, they always went out of their way to support one another, and Dexter was wholeheartedly proud that his brother had turned his love of cars and his mechanical know-how into a job he loved…of course, Dexter’s decision to go off the grid had strained his relationship with his entire family.

“It’s good to see you again,” Dexter awkwardly admitted at least.

“Likewise,” Max replied, equally as awkward. “I saw you’re in the wrestling business now…you kicked some serious ass at that pay-per-view.”

“Thanks…” Dexter sighed.

“Mom, dad and I were hoping to see you when they rolled through here, but…nothing,” Max lamented. “Dad even said he saw you all the way out in Boston. You rebuffed him because of this whole ‘war on social media’ thing.”

“It’s not just a ‘thing’ Max!” Dexter growled. “I’m sorry if I’m still the only person who actually fucking gets it, but nobody else is doing anything and I’m not going to watch the world burn because of people who have power they really shouldn’t!”

Back to the tense staredown the brothers went, but this one didn’t last as long before Max just sighed and sat down in one of the seats.

“What happened to you at Innovatech?” Max asked, that name causing Dexter’s blood to run cold.

“...what makes you think something happened with them?”

“Dex, as much as our parents love you, I think I know you better than they do,” Max clarified. “My big brother goes to a job he loves and was excited to do since graduating from college, then one day he suddenly comes home saying he quit and goes from being one of the best damn coding geniuses I know to cursing the existence of social media and acting like an entirely different person? That math doesn’t add up, dude.”

Dexter just stared down Maxwell for what felt like an eternity before he started making his way to the door, Max making no effort to stop him. Dexter did pause before turning to face him one more time though.

“It’s complicated…” was the only answer he gave his brother before exiting the RV, leaving Max to sigh and follow him out.

“Everything alright?” Andre asked as Dexter approached him, the Digital Detoxer doing his best to try and screw his head back on straight.

“Everything looks good,” Dexter confirmed to him, even though it was clear that wasn’t what the shop owner was referring to. Before he could inquire about whatever was going on between him and Max, though, Dexter cut in again. “$100,000 was your price tag, right?”

Andre just nodded, a little taken aback by the shift in tone, but a nod from Dexter had Wendell handing over the full amount in cash. He looked a little unnerved himself, but Dexter chalked that up to most of the money for this transaction being money his loyal follower had borrowed from his family to cover what Dexter couldn’t with his low-level SCW contract. Dexter promised to pay him back, but right now he just wanted to get this transaction over with and get back to his shack in the woods.

A few minutes later, money had traded hands and the keys were now in Wendell’s possession as Dexter motioned for him to drive the RV, because he’d be damned if he trusted the kid with the truck he’d painstakingly put together and still planned to use locally or on shorter, less taxing trips.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Dexter told Andre as they shook hands briefly locking eyes with Wendell to silently communicate that he wasn’t in the mood to talk about whatever had happened between him and the mechanic who was still standing off to the side and watching everything.

“Dex!” Max called as Dexter turned to head back to his truck, causing the man to stop and glance back at him. “I know this is a longshot, but damn if I’m not going to try anyway. Come home for Thanksgiving?”

“You know my next show’s on Thanksgiving Day, right?” Dexter raised an eyebrow.

“We can do it early then!” Max pleaded. “Look, we just…we just want to talk Dex. We want a chance to understand, to hear you out, like you wanted. Can you give us that chance?”

“...I’ll think about it,” was all Dexter could think to say before he hopped in his truck and drove away from the shop, knowing Wendell was right behind him with their new RV. He did make a mental note of this shop now that he knew his brother was working here…whether or not it was a note to avoid this area like the plague or actually consider coming back around again was still up in the air for him.

All Dexter knew was that he had a lot to think about in the coming days.

And this Fatal Fortunes bullshit was pretty high on that list.

Buckle in, this is gonna be a ride.

A lot of you already know from Discord why I took LOA - I am in the process of splitting up with my long term partner Ben. I technically ended it early August but he was laid off in June so he was still living with me until he either found a place to go or got a job to get his own place. Well... the Universe decided to put a boot in his ass to get this done. I've told some of you part of this but here is the whole story.

Last week on Tuesday night Ben drove himself to the VA ER in the city (he was in the Marines in the late 90s, so he gets their medical). He was coughing like crazy, couldn't breathe well. I offered to drive him, had my keys in hand, but he insisted on going himself. After he left, I found paper towels in the bathroom trashcan that were bloody from whatever he was coughing up. So, he got there. They took him back immediately because he could barely breathe. Turns out his oxygen level was 85%. I have no idea how he drove himself there.

They admitted him, diagnosed with pneumonia. He texted me updates Wednesday and Thursday morning. I cleaned the house while I had the opportunity because he had the living room a complete disaster (one of the many reasons this is done, his lack of picking up after himself in any sense - leaving dishes with food still in it all over to rot. I couldn't stand to walk through the living room because it smelled so bad. But the main reason being he was doing meth and lied to me about it repeatedly. That's another long story). But I didn't hear from him at all between Thursday morning and Friday morning. I also had surgery on the 13th - I had a cyst near my urethra. So Friday morning I had an appointment to get my catheter removed. After that I went to work and started making phonecalls. Three hours later I got a live person and was told he was in ICU because his CO2 level was 147, and normal is like 45--60ish. He was on a BIPAP and oxygen, and antibiotics for the pneumonia.

All of this meant one, I had to go there, and two... I had to call his crazy mother, because I knew he hadn't told her he was in the hospital. So, she and I both showed up there Friday night. He told me himself that Thursday night he couldn't hardly breathe and kept paging the nurses because they didn't come right away the first time. Next thing he knew he woke up with a whole medical team around him. He almost died right there. And that's when he went to ICU.

I went back there Saturday, and was there in the afternoon when he was moved back to regular inpatient as his breathing had improved. Dealing with his mom is a whole other side story that I'm not sure I have the bandwith to type out right now. Short version is she goes from being civil and even thankful with me because I let her know - to accusing me of being heartless and kicking him out of my house while he's in the hospital. I suggested he go to her house when he was released because there he has an actual bed to sleep in. At my house he was either on the couch or the floor. Both he and her agreed when I said that, and then she tried to throw it back at me.

Sunday, my friend Clint and I brought Ben's truck (which had been sitting in the ER parking lot) to his mom's house across the river.

So now today. At around 2am his mom texted me this whole diatribe about how some of the house mess was my fault and a bunch of other nonsense. I replied by telling her everything about his drug bullshit and how he kept lying to me and that's why I broke up with him. To my surprise, she believed me and asked more details.

So now he's being released today later this afternoon and she asked me to go pick him up and bring him to her house, because she has bad night vision. Which is true, she had cataract surgery a few months ago. So I agreed.

Trying to get him to get a place to go and move out while still dealing with his mess and attitude is why I had no energy to play the game. I feel like if he hadn't got this sick, he'd have kept dragging things out on leaving. It seems like a whole catalyst that forced both him and me to actually do the thing to get him to move out. It really sucks that he got that bad off and I don't wish that on anyone. I want him to get better and be okay, and probably go to rehab and get his shit together. He just has to do it somewhere else because I'm not dealing with it anymore.

The last few days with just me and the cats in my apartment while I cleaned up is the most peace I've had at home in YEARS. Part of me feels bad that I used this as a way to get him out, because he's not coming back. He's going to his mom's. But I also feel like it would have been a struggle to get him out if he didn't have a big reason like this to do it.

So.... that's where I'm at right now. I wanted y'all to know what's been going on, if I've seemed off, or really just for why I can't play right now. Those of you who have known all of this already, thank you for your support.

I will try to get back into this after the new year. I love you guys. <3

Coup

OOC:  For those reading, please read Colleen's posts first, Polly's posts second, and then Aisling's posts third, for the full effect.



Season 6 / Episode 3 / Tantalizing (Part 1 - Right Here For You)

(The Foundation) Discussions in the Dark

1 of 2: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SHkD...sp=sharing

The Provider: Chapter 3.1

1 of 2
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November 8th, 2024
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

It is November 8th, a Friday morning in the front yard of a semi-luxurious home in an upscale part of Boston, Massachusetts, nestled in a quiet neighborhood. The yard is immaculately maintained, with a lush green lawn stretching from the wide cobblestone driveway to a series of flower beds brimming with vibrant marigolds, petunias, and neatly trimmed boxwoods. A large oak tree stands proudly to one side, its golden autumn leaves cascading gently to the ground. A winding stone path leads from the driveway to the front porch, where a pair of sleek wooden chairs and a potted fern sit beneath the shade of the overhanging roof. The house itself is modern yet cozy, with pale gray siding, white-trimmed windows, and a dark slate roof.

Amid the peaceful daytime setting, none other than the eccentric Queen of the Death Match herself, Kimberly Williams step into view with a mischievous glint in her green eyes. The Woman Scorned darts from one flower bed to another. She’s dressed in an eccentric outfit resembling that of a Victorian-era male detective: a tailored brown overcoat, plaid waistcoat, crisp white shirt with a high collar, and pinstriped trousers. Her outfit is complete with a deerstalker hat perched at a jaunty angle on her head and a magnifying glass in hand. She crouches low behind the flower beds, pretending to inspect “clues” on the ground, despite the fact that nothing is really there.

“Ah-ha! A footprint!” Kim gazes down at a boy resting on a flower. “The game is afoot my dear Watson! This is a footprint…or is that a honeybee? I can’t tell them apart anymore…” she shrugs and moves further along the yard. Her antics are theatrical, clearly meant to amuse herself rather than achieve any real detective work.

As Kimberly crawls toward the oak tree, another figure emerges into view, this time from within the nice upscale home. This is Jessica Lasiewicz. Jessica and Kimberly are half-sisters, sharing the same famous mother Angelica Jones but having different fathers. Lasiewicz is also a striking contrast to the deranger Kimberly in that she is almost always calm, cool, and collected and very rarely goofs around. Despite their differences, the sisters do very much care for one another and will always help out when needed. That is what family is for, right? But why is Kim here today? What has brought her eccentric half-sister out to visit her? In contrast to Kim, Lasiewicz wears a simple outfit: fitted dark jeans, a pale blue sweater, and white sneakers. Her brown hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, and her expression shifts from mild confusion to exasperation as she watches Kimberly’s playful sneaking.

“Kimberly, what are you doing?” Jessica calls out, stepping onto the stone path with her arms crossed.

Kimberly freezes mid-crouch, then slowly swivels her head toward Jessica with an exaggeratedly guilty expression. “You didn’t see me…”

“Uh, yes I did.”

“No! I am a brilliant detective with expert and cunning skills!”

“Sorry, Kim. You’re caught red handed.”

“There is no red on my hands!” Kim waves her hands in front of Jessica. “See? Clean as a whistle!”

“Na litość boską…” she sighs and shakes her head “...what do you want?”

“Why, dearest sister, I am on the trail of a most dastardly culprit! You wouldn’t happen to know anything about..Vlad The Impaler, would you?!” She peers at Jessica through the magnifying glass, her voice dripping with playful accusation.

Jessica sighs and rubs her temples. “You mean the ruler of Wallachia during the 1400s?”

“Oh ok, well do you know anything about Wladimir Klitschko?”

“Former heavyweight boxing champion of the world.”

“Impressive…” Kim scratches her chin, pretending to think carefully “...what about Wladimir Putin?”

“Russian leader.”

“I KNEW IT!” She exclaims. Kimberly stands up, brushing dirt off her coat and feigning outrage. “You’re the thief!”

“What are you blabbing about Kim?” Jessica asks, growing impatient. “I haven’t stolen anything from you. To be honest, you’re the thief.”

“How dare you accuse me without evidence! A good detective would never…and I am the best detective… I am KIMLOCK HOLMES!”

“Right…” Jessica rolls her eyes “...well Kimlock Holmes, you are stealing my precious time. What do you need?”

“I told you! Kimlock Holmes is on an investigation!”

“Fine, whatever. At least come inside before the neighbors start asking questions.”

“Right away, my dear Watson!”

Kimberly skips along happily following her Polish half-sister towards the house. They enter through the front door. Jessica motions for Kim to follow her through a short hallway and then into the living room area. The living room is spacious and inviting, with polished hardwood floors that gleam in the natural light streaming through large bay windows dressed with soft cream curtains. The walls are painted a calming sage green. A plush sectional sofa in a light gray fabric dominates the seating area, piled with throw pillows in earthy tones of rust, ochre, and ivory. A knitted blanket is draped over one armrest, adding a touch of casual comfort. Across from the sofa sits a sleek, low-profile coffee table made of reclaimed wood, its surface cluttered with a few books, a scented candle, and a mug left behind earlier. A soft area rug in a subtle geometric pattern anchors the furniture, offering a cozy texture underfoot.

The centerpiece of the room is a modern gas fireplace with a minimalist stone surround. Above it, a flat-screen TV is mounted discreetly, flanked by built-in shelves filled with books, small potted plants, and other assorted items. Near the windows, a corner is dedicated to a reading nook, featuring a comfortable armchair upholstered in deep emerald green and a small side table stacked with more books. A tall floor lamp with an arched neck provides focused light, making it an ideal spot to curl up on rainy afternoons. Jessica leads Kimberly to the sofa, gesturing for her to sit. As Kimberly plops down with a dramatic sigh, her Victorian-era attire looking comically out of place against the modern decor, Jessica sits more gracefully on the opposite side of the couch, folding her legs beneath her. Jessica leans back, crossing her arms.

“Alright, Kim,” she begins, her voice steady but tinged with amusement, “what brings you here today?”

“Oh just stopping by for a visit!” Kim grins playfully.

“You certainly seem to be in good spirits.” Jessica points out. “I’m surprised, actually. You seemed rather disappointed when you lost at Under Attack.”

“In my defense it technically took two of those clowns to pin me.” Kim snarls. “Put me against Colleen Ronald McDonald one on one and I’ll tear her to shreds. She won’t just her title, she’ll lose her…

“Whoa…” Jessica holds up a hand to silence her “...save that violence for the ring, ok?”

“Wild do, Captain!” Kim playfully salutes Jessica.

“And if I recall, Fatal Fortunes is coming up next.”

“That’s right!” The grin returns to Kim’s face. “I am THE Queen of Chaos and you do not get more chaotic than Fatal Fortunes where matches are literally made at the draw of a hat! It’s great! It is my home turf and I look forward to seeing what kind of chaos I get into!”

“You only want the Underground Title, though.” Jessica points out. “What are the odds you get drawn for THAT?”

“I know all about odds, Jess.” Kim retorts. “I know that I will only get what lady luck decides to give me. But that’s why chaos is fair. Everyone is in the same boat.”

“But admit it, you hope you get drawn for an Underground Title Match.”

“Yeah…” Kim nods her head “...that sixth Underground Title reign is something I’d love to have. But like I said, I’ll take whatever lady luck gives to me!”

“Well good luck with that.” Jessica sighs. “But you still haven’t gotten around to why you decided to visit me. I mean, you visit Marie all the time. You almost never visit me.”

“In my defense, me and Marie are clones.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “What do you want, Kim? Enough of the games, enough of the Kimlock Holmes crap. What brings you here? What do you need from me?”

“You’re no fun. This is why I visit Marie more than I do you.” Kim sticks her tongue out at Jessica. “But uh, yeah, my investigation as Kimlock Holmes requires that I take a bit of an overseas adventure! I won’t be gone long but I will need a place to stay while I am away.”

“And you think you can get a place to stay from me?” Jessica looks confused at first. “Why not book a hotel or…” just then Jessica’s eyes grow slightly larger, as if a light bulb went off over her head “...what exactly are you doing overseas, Kim?”

“I promise I’m not going to maim anyone.” Kim says, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m being serious.” Jessica says. “If you get into trouble, someone will need to bail you out and it might have to be me.”

“Awww that’s so sweet!” Kim gushes. “But I do not plan to cause any trouble…at least intentionally…I’m just doing some research, that’s all, and I might need a place to stay, a headquarters if you will.”

“Wiem, czego szukasz.” Jessica says sharply.

“Language!” Kim exclaims.

“Look, I do own a vacation home in my native Poland. Would that work?”

“Perfect!” Kim claps happily. “I promise no loud parties and no icky boys! I can’t wait to stay in Lassie Country!”

“Kim, just one thing…” she sighs “...like I said, I think I know what you’re looking for. All I’m going to say is be careful. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”

==========
November 11th, 2024
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
==========

A few days have passed since Kimberly Williams spoke to her half-sister Jessica Lasiewicz and got permission to use her vacation home in Poland while she goes overseas for some research. Jessica has an idea about what the research entails and has some concern for Kimberly’s safety. Kim ordinarily would have just went out and did her own thing but upon the urging of Jessica, she has decided to fill her twin sister Marie in on what exactly is going on and why she will not hear from Kimberly for awhile. Thus Kimberly Williams and her identical twin sister, Marie Jones, sit side by side on a weathered park bench overlooking Boston Common.

Marie was the picture of understated elegance, dressed in a light floral blouse with a high neckline tucked neatly into a flowing, knee-length skirt in soft pastel hues. Her leather ballet flats were polished, and a delicate gold chain with a tiny locket rested on her collarbone. Her posture was straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap, exuding an air of calm and composure. Kimberly, by contrast, radiated defiance. She slouched comfortably on the bench, one leg stretched out and the other propped up against the edge, her scuffed black boots firmly planted on the ground. Her outfit was unapologetically edgy: a black Queens of Chaos logo t-shirt, paired with ripped jeans that bore the scars of countless adventures. She wore chunky silver rings on nearly every finger, and her nails were painted a chipped crimson.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” Marie asks. Kim shrugs.

“I suppose so.”

I know the beauty of parks like this isn’t exactly your thing but even you have to admit it is nice to be out here.”

“I don’t have to admit anything.” Kim sticks her tongue out playfully at Marie. Marie reacts with a chuckle. Jones then leans back and sighs.

“You know Kim, I hate that you lost at Under Attack. I know how much the Underground Title means to you and all…”

“It’s ok.” Kim says. “I already told Jess when I spoke with her, I’m ok with what happened because for starters it took two of those idiots to beat me. And second, Fatal Fortunes is coming up. Who knows what might happen?” She grins knowingly.

“True. You could be the lucky person drawn for a world title shot.” Marie says. Kim shrugs.

“Maybe but who cares? I want that Underground Title back.”

“You can want it all you like but Fatal Fortunes is a different animal. All of it is a random draw. Pure chaos. You of all people should appreciate that.”

“Oh and I do!” Kim smiles excitedly. “I am very much looking forward to the chaos!”

“Well good luck, sis.” Marie says, smiling warmly. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“You too.” Kim says. But then Marie shakes her head.

“Not me, not this time.”

“Oh come on, Marie! Don’t be such a downer!” Kim pats her on the back. “I know you’ve hit a rough patch but you can bounce back and Fatal Fortunes might be your ticket to bouncing back in a big way!”

“Maybe…maybe if luck was on my side but lately it hasn’t been…” Marie shakes her head “...and quite frankly, I haven’t been at my best lately.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that maybe I need to take a break from everything, from all of it.”

“No!” Kim grabs hold of Marie and squeezes her tightly in a big bear hug. “I won’t let you go!”

“Come on, Kim,” Marie chuckles as she tries, and eventually does, force Kim to break the hug “you’ll be fine without me. You made a real name for yourself without me. You already proved that you don’t need me.”

“But I’ll…” Kim sighs as she tries to force back those feelings that she utterly hates displaying “...I would miss you…”

“Look at this!” Marie teases. “The Queen of the Death Match being sappy and sentimental!”

“Hush you!” Kim snaps back. “I don’t want to ruin my reputation!”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“Good…” Kim sighs “...but seriously, think it over, ok?”

“I promise that I won’t make any rash decisions right away.”

“That’s all I ask.” Kim leans her head on Marie’s shoulder. “I really would miss you.”

“I’d probably miss you too.”

“I’ll also miss you while I’m in Poland.”

“I’ll miss you too…” Marie suddenly turns and looks into Kim’s eyes, Kim is smirking playfully “...wait, what?! Poland?!”

“Yup, Poland!” Kim declares happily. “But don’t worry, I won’t be there long, I just need to do some research.”

“What kind of research?” Marie asks. “What on earth do you need to know that would take you to Poland?”

“It’s like this…” Kim slumps over and sighs “...you and mom have made me feel totally welcome in the Jones family. It took Jess a bit but even she’s grown attached to me and she has made me feel welcome. But despite everything you have done, despite the fact that biologically I am a Jones, I still do not feel truly like a Jones.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Marie insists. “You certainly belong to this family, to the Jones family.”

“Belonging to a family and feeling as if you truly part of it are two completely different things. I know I am a Jones. I just don’t feel it. I do not see where I fit in. That’s what I need to know. I need to know how I fit into this family.”

“And how exactly is going to Poland going to help?” Marie asks. “Why not talk to me or mom or…”

“I tried talking to you guys but I never did get the answers I needed. I still didn’t find where I fit in. So I decided to follow in the footsteps of the Jones family patriarch.”

“You mean…” Marie’s voice trails off as she begins to realize Kim’s train of thought and where it leads. Kim nods her head in confirmation.

“That’s right. Bart Jones, our late grandfather. Maybe if I find out something about him, some piece of information that mom either doesn’t know or is keeping hidden from us, maybe if I dig deep into his mysterious past, I might be able to make a connection.”

“Kim…” Marie sighs “...I get why you’re doing this but what you are suggesting is dangerous. Who gave you this crazy idea?”

“Our uncle Douglas.” Kim smiles. “You really should visit him more often, he’s a pleasant guy for a convicted felon serving a life sentence for serial murder.”

“That’s right…” Marie nods her head “...he is a killer!”

“But he is also reformed.” Kim points out. “He has changed, like me. And at least he helped me learn how I fit into the Williams family. Now I need to learn how I fit into the Jones family and I hope you will support me with this.”

Marie stares deep into Kimberly’s eyes. Marie is doubtful of this idea but she can tell that her twin is determined. Finally Marie nods her head and relents.

“Oh ok, you have my support!”

“Yay!” Kimberly leans in and hugs her again. “I love you!”

“Yeah, love you too.” She sighs. “But please, be careful.”

“I’m always careful!” Kim winks playfully.

1 of 2

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November 6th, 2024
London, England
Off Camera
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Under Attack has come and gone. Glory Braddock did exactly what she set out to do. She went in, exploited the weaknesses of Magical Cosmic Princess YUYO, and she ultimately regained the SCW Adrenaline Championship. It was a very special moment for The British Bombshell; this title was the first championship she won when she first signed her SCW contract, now she has won it again. This is also special because she proved YUYO and any other critics and doubters wrong. YUYO tried to throw The British Bombshell under the bus, she tried to pass the blame for the Trios Tournament defeat onto Glory Braddock. But The British Bombshell proved it was certainly not her fault, not at all. She choked YUYO out with Shekhinah Glory. She ripped the Adrenaline Championship away from her. Braddock will not get much time to celebrate this second reign as Adrenaline Champion. Glory recognizes the challenge that she now faces in the form of Fatal Fortunes. The British Bombshell will be going into Fatal Fortunes without any knowledge of her opponent…or possibly opponents…in her Adrenaline Title defense. Will she defend against one person or two? Or three? What other match might she got thrown into? Could she possibly get another title opportunity? Fatal Fortunes is impossible to prepare for and that is what makes it a challenge, not only for Glory Braddock but all of the SCW wrestlers. She has no idea what to prepare for, who to prepare for, but she does know that her championship will be on the line. Braddock’s primary focus is to do whatever is necessary to retain her championship. Fatal Fortunes puts her title reign in major jeopardy.

In the meantime, Glory Braddock has plans to introduce her youngest daughter, Dawn Logan, into the world of professional wrestling. The British Bombshell recently learned that Dawn got into a fight. After talking with her husband Kurt and their oldest daughter Melinda, it was decided that it might be a good idea to introduce Dawn to the world of professional wrestling. Kurt wasn’t too keen on Dawn fighting people for a living and, quite honestly, neither was Glory. But the fact is that they cannot shield Dawn from professional wrestling, especially since both Glory and Kurt come from that world. Dawn is very likely to want to follow in their footsteps, whether as a wrestler or in some other form, perhaps a manager or a commentator. So Braddock decided to bring her youngest child to visit the Braddock Wrestling School, her own birthright.

The wrestling school gym is a mix of gritty functionality and hints of professional polish. The smell of sweat and rubber fills the air, a testament to the hours of intense training that take place here. The walls are painted a dull gray, adorned with posters of legendary wrestlers who have graduated from this very school, most of these posters are of the founder himself, Glory’s father Glenn Braddock. A few championship belts in glass cases are displayed near the entrance, serving as a reminder of what’s possible for those who train here. At the center of the gym is the main attraction: a full-sized wrestling ring with red ropes and a blue canvas mat, its corners padded and adorned with the school’s logo. The ring sits under a series of bright overhead lights, which reflect off its slightly scuffed surface. Around it are rows of chairs where trainees can observe, currently stacked neatly along one wall. Scattered throughout the rest of the space are workout stations; a rack of free weights, a bench press, a speed bag, and a punching dummy. A large mat area occupies another corner, used for grappling drills, its foam padding covered in dark blue vinyl. A chalkboard mounted nearby has today’s drills and reminders written in bold letters, accompanied by a calendar with upcoming wrestling events. In a side area, there’s a video setup with a TV and a camera for students to review their practice matches, surrounded by mismatched chairs and a worn-out couch. A whiteboard hangs above it, marked with a list of names and rankings that seem to carry serious weight to those who train here.

Glory Braddock stands tall and confident as she leads her daughter, Dawn, through the gym. Glory’s golden hair is tied back into a sleek ponytail, her outfit a blend of athletic and casual: a fitted black tank top that shows off her toned arms, paired with gray track pants and black sneakers. Her demeanor is equal parts professional and maternal, her piercing blue eyes scanning the room as if recalling memories of her own training days. Dawn, a bright-eyed preteen with hair tied in a loose braid, mirrors her mother’s athletic vibe. She’s dressed in a pale pink hoodie with a wrestling school logo emblazoned on the chest, dark leggings, and white sneakers. She clutches a water bottle in one hand, her other hand resting against her mother’s arm as she listens intently. Her wide-eyed gaze flits from the ring to the equipment, her expression a mixture of awe and budding excitement.

“And this is it Dawnie,” Glory says with a warm, maternal tone “this is your grandfather’s wrestlings school, this is your legacy.”

“Really?” Dawn seems to be in awe as she takes in all of the surroundings. “So you trained here?”

“Uh-huh,” Glory nods her head “I was your grandfather’s first student. When he could no longer wrestle, when he had to retire, he wanted to find a way to leave a legacy, to still leave an impact upon the wrestling world. This is it. He felt the best way to give back and to continue to leave an impact would be to train the next generation. Your aunt Julia also trained here, as did your sister Melinda.”

“Who else?” Dawn asks, eager to learn more.

“Well my friend Matthew for one. Destiny Blair. Sophie O’Brian. So many former champions have come through this place and have learned so much from your grandfather. That’s his legacy, Dawnie.” Glory sighs. “And even though he may not be here with us physically, he is still with us spiritually, his ideas and philosophy live on through this school and those who continue to run it.” Braddock takes Dawn by her hand. “Come on, this way…”

Dawn nods her head and allows her mother to guide her closer towards the wrestling ring. Braddock hops up onto the apron and then assists Dawn in climbing onto the apron. Glory then holds the ropes open, allowing her daughter to step inside much easier. Glory then joins her inside the ring. Once inside the ring they are met by a tall, built individual who Glory recognizes immediately and smiles warmly. Dawn, however, does not seem to recognize him.

“Dawn…this is my good friend and the head trainer at the school, Randall Williams.” Glory motions to Dawn. “Randall, this is my youngest daughter, Dawn.”

“Nice to meet you, Dawn.” Randall smiles and offers his hand. Dawn reluctantly accepts the handshake. “I heard you might be interested in following in your mom’s footsteps?”

“Maybe.”

“Well if you are then this is certainly the place to do it.” Randall states. “Many world champions have come through this place.

“We have a party in here or somethin’?” The booming voice comes from an even larger, more muscular individual who enters the ring. Dawn is startled at first and turns around but smiles upon seeing him. She recognizes him, and the woman who follows him closely behind…Mark O’Brian and his sister Sophie, Glory’s closest childhood friends and two other trainers at the Braddock Wrestling School.

“Marky!” Dawn rushes over and hugs Mark tightly.

“You got quite a grip there, kid!” Mark exclaims.

“No one told us we were having visitors.” Sophie chuckles softly as she pats Dawn on the head.

“It was kind of a last minute thing.” Glory says shrugging her shoulders before embracing Sophie in a big hug. “Nice to see you, Sophie.”

“It’s always a pleasure, Gloria.” She looks over at Dawn. “So your youngest is finally deciding to follow the family tradition?”

“Well we aren’t fully certain of that yet.” Glory says. “It’s just something she’s exploring, that’s all.”

“Oh be honest with yourself, Gloria,” Sophie scoffs “we all knew it would happen eventually. The moment your father, the great Glenn Braddock, made a name for himself in Europe as a professional wrestler, it was fate, it was destined that his family line would follow in his footsteps. You did…your oldest did…now your youngest is.”

“Maybe.” Glory says. “Even if she does, she isn’t sure she wants to be a full time wrestler. She might want to be a manager or a commentator or serve in some other capacity.”

“Whatever the capacity may be, she would still be involved in wrestling and still following the family tradition.” Sophie winks.

The British Bombshell prepares her next argument when another gentleman enters the ring. He is definitely not built like the rest nor is he dressed like a trainer or a wrestler. He is young, one of the assistants. The kid has a package in hand as he approaches Glory Braddock.

“Ms. Braddock…if I may…” he holds out the package “...uh, you have a package.”

“A package?” Glory furrows her brow out of curiosity. “No one was expecting me today. How did they know to send me any mail?”

“I don’t know, Ms. Braddock. It just arrived earlier today and had your name on it.”

Glory looks at the package. This certainly is unusual. Everyone knows that her permanent residence is now Miami, Florida. She rarely visits London anymore and this particular visit was a surprise to everyone. Someone knew, however, and dropped off this package. But how? And why? And what is it? Before Glory can say anything her thought process is interrupted.

“You know, Gloria, you obviously have a great deal on your mind.” Sophie says with a sweet smile. She takes Dawn by the hand. “Why don’t you go and take a look at that package? I will give Dawn here the grand tour.”

“That’s fine if Dawn is ok with it.”

“Yeah!” Dawn exclaims.

“Ok then.” Glory chuckles. “You two have fun.”

“Oh we will.” Sophie says as she walks off with Dawn in tow.

Meanwhile Braddock steps through the ropes, out onto the apron, and then off the apron and to the floor. Glory makes a beeline towards her office with the mysterious package in her hand. Glory opens her office door and steps inside. The office is modest in size but exudes a sense of authority. The walls are painted a calming shade of light gray, giving the space an understated elegance. Behind the desk, a large poster of Glory in her prime wrestling days hangs proudly, showcasing her in the ring with her arms raised in victory, a championship belt slung over her shoulder. The desk itself is a solid oak piece with a polished surface, though its edges show signs of wear from years of use. Papers, folders, and a laptop are neatly arranged on the desk. A small, potted plant sits in the corner of the desk, adding a touch of greenery to the room. A pair of chairs with black cushions sit in front of the desk for visitors, their design simple yet comfortable. On the wall opposite the desk, a large whiteboard is mounted, covered with notes, schedules, and motivational quotes written in Glory’s neat handwriting. A calendar hangs nearby, marked with upcoming school events and personal reminders. The room has a single window with blinds partially drawn, letting in a sliver of sunlight that casts long shadows across the polished floor. The hum of activity from the gym outside fades into a muffled background noise. She moves toward the desk, her footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. With a sigh, she lowers herself into the chair behind the desk, and lays the package on the desk.

“So…what are you?” Glory muses out loud as she opens the package. Inside she finds a bunch of meaningless wrapping paper and then, finally, underneath it all, she notices a glimmer, a slight sparkle. She reaches inside and produces a diamond necklace. Glory gasps in shock. “Wow…this is…” she chuckles “...this is beautiful.” Braddock stares at the diamond necklace for a long time, curious as to how it got here and more importantly who sent it. But then she is interrupted with a knocking at the door.

“Come in!” Glory says. The door opens and in walks her own sister, Julia Braddock. Glory smiles nervously, cautiously. She and Julia have had an up and down relationship and, most recently, they clashed over a disagreement regarding how Julia should handle her own adopted daughter. Glory pressured Julia to have DNA testing done to prove whether her adopted daughter was related to a man who claimed to be the girl’s uncle. Julia was vehemently opposed but went along with it anyway. Is she here to argue?

“No one told me you were stopping by for this unexpected visit.” Julia says with a smile on her face as she strolls over and sits in one of the chairs across from the desk. Glory sighs and shrugs her shoulders.

“Sorry, sis, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Especially for Dawn.”

“Dawn is here?” She asks. Glory nods her head.

“Yes, she’s outside being given a grand tour of the place right now.”

“I see.” Julia nods her head. “So the youngest is finally following in your footsteps?”

“Possibly.” Glory shrugs her shoulders. “Who knows at this point?”

“You knew she would have inevitably grown curious about the family business.” Julia states. “You and her father both are wrestlers, after all.”

“Yes and that’s why I’m not going to bother trying to shield her from it. There really is no point in trying to hide this life from her, you know? I might as well let her see it all for herself and trust her to make her own decision when the time is right.”

“Sounds like some good advice you gave me.” Julia smirks.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmmm,” Julia nods her head “and I must say, it was brilliant advice. You were right, sister, having the DNA testing done on my daughter and letting her know the truth was the right thing to do.”

“And?” Glory asks. “Don’t keep me in suspense, love. What were the results?”

“Well, for one, my daughter Serena is in fact the missing girl Grace Jefferson. She has no memory of that old life…she’s suffering from some major amnesia, apparently…but she has no desire to leave me. She’s still my daughter.”

“See? I told you that just because she found out about her true past wouldn’t mean that she would leave you, abandon you, especially considering the wonderful job you’ve done as a mother yourself. Now she’ll be able to have her uncle back in her life.”

“Assuming she ever regains her memories.” Julia sighs. Just then Julia notices the diamond necklace and the package. She furrows her brow as she stares at it for a moment. Julia then points at it. “What’s that?”

“A diamond necklace, mate.” Glory says with a wry grin.

“I can see that.” Julia rolls her eyes. “I mean where did you get it?”

“It’s just some package I received today.”

“Do you know who sent it?”

“No clue.” Glory shakes her head.

“Ok, I don’t like this.” Julia says with a frown on her face, studying the necklace closely, almost as if it were a ticking bomb. “You said yourself this was a surprise visit. I’m your sister and even I didn’t know until late that you were coming. Yet someone KNEW you were coming and managed to get this gift to you…”

“Uh-huh…”

“Don’t you find that a little suspicious?” Julia asks. “I think you might have a stalker on your hands, maybe an obsessed fan.”

“A stalker? An obsessed fan?” Glory chuckles. “Jules, you’ve been watching too much television, love.”

“Make it make sense.” Julia insists. “How do you just randomly get a gift like this?!”

“You seem to forget that our father was very famous back in the day and he, too, often received strange gifts from fans and yet none of those proved to be dangerous stalkers.”

“Yes, well, your father had a permanent residence here and those fans knew very well how to get those gifts to him. Also those gifts were very cheap and simple.” Julia picks up the diamond necklace. “This is very expensive, whoever got it for you went to great trouble. And you don’t maintain a residence here any longer. Someone knew you were going to be here despite your big surprise. And yet you’re not concerned?”

“Look, I’ll grant you that it is very odd, but seriously, this is normal, especially for someone famous. And the Braddock family is still very much revered here in England. Most likely this is a fan of the Braddock family hoping that this would somehow get to me.”

“And he got lucky?” Julia asks. Glory nods her head.

“Yeah, that’s it. He got lucky.” Glory takes the diamond necklace out of Julia’s hands. She stares at the diamond necklace admiringly. “And so did I…”

“Yeah, that is a stunning bit of jewelry, I’ll grant you that.” Julia says. “But, uh, be careful. Ok? This still doesn’t sit well with me.”

“I’ll be careful, Jules, trust me.”