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+--- Thread: Syren, Deanna Frost & Kimberly Williams vs. The European Fiery Nation (/showthread.php?tid=4777)
Syren, Deanna Frost & Kimberly Williams vs. The European Fiery Nation - Kemal Yilmaz - 03-07-2026
Syren, Deanna Frost & Kimberly Williams vs. Federico Gasperoni, Dakon Theron & Ludvig Eriksson
6 RP limit for six person tag
3500 Word Per RP
Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Wednesday, March 11, 2026
RE: Syren, Deanna Frost & Kimberly Williams vs. The European Fiery Nation - The Matt - 03-09-2026
1 of 2
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March 3rd, 2026
Baltimore, Maryland
Off Camera
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The Waffle House sat at the corner of a quiet Baltimore intersection, its familiar yellow sign glowing like a stubborn beacon against the late night darkness. Most of the nearby storefronts had already shut down for the evening, their windows dark and lifeless, but the small diner remained brightly lit as though time moved differently inside its walls. The parking lot was nearly empty, with only a couple of cars scattered beneath the humming streetlights. A faint breeze carried the distant sound of traffic from a larger road several blocks away, but here the city felt strangely still. Kimberly Williams, The Woman Scorned and self-proclaimed Queen of the Death Match, stepped inside, bringing with her a gust of cooler night air and the restless energy that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. She paused just inside the doorway for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the brightness after the dim streets outside.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, reflecting off the checkered tile floor and the long counter that stretched across the front half of the room. The air smelled strongly of coffee, butter, and something sweet lingering from waffles cooked hours earlier. Grease hissed quietly on the grill behind the counter, though no one currently stood over it. A stack of clean plates waited beside the cooking station, and a half filled coffee pot rested on its warmer as if patiently anticipating the next order. Most of the booths stood empty. Their red vinyl seats showed the subtle wear of years of customers sliding in and out at all hours of the day and night. The tabletops were clean but carried faint scratches and marks that had become permanent over time. A small jukebox sat unused near the wall, its colored lights glowing faintly even though no song had been selected. In the corner, an old television hung from a bracket, playing a muted late night news broadcast that no one was watching.
Williams was dressed in a loose dark hoodie hung open over a worn t-shirt with a penguin emblem on the front. Her jeans were slightly baggy, comfortable and practical, the knees creased from regular wear. A pair of old sneakers completed the outfit, their white rubber edges scuffed and dulled from long use. Her red hair hung loosely around her shoulders in uneven waves, not styled or tamed in any deliberate way. Kimberly’s gaze moved automatically toward the same booth she always checked first. Sure enough, Larry Dempsey was already there. He sat in the corner booth near the window, leaning comfortably against the backrest with one arm draped over the top of the seat. A mug of coffee rested in front of him, along with a plate that still held the remains of what had probably been a late dinner. The overhead light above the booth cast a warm glow over the table, separating that little corner from the otherwise quiet restaurant.
Dempsey’s hair was dark brown and slightly messy, as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly during the evening. A light stubble covered his jaw, giving him a somewhat tired but grounded appearance. He wore a flannel shirt over a plain gray tee, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His jeans were simple and practical, and his boots looked sturdy enough to handle long days on his feet.
The two of them shared a history that stretched far beyond ordinary friendship. Years earlier they had met under circumstances neither of them would have chosen. Both had spent time in the same mental institution, navigating long days filled with therapy sessions, medication schedules, and the quiet struggle of trying to piece their lives back together. In a place where trust came slowly and carefully, they had somehow found it in each other. When they eventually left that chapter of their lives behind, they made a quiet promise to keep checking in. Not through formal plans or complicated arrangements. Just something simple and reliable. Every once in a while they met at this same Waffle House.
Larry noticed Kimberly the moment she stepped through the door. Even from across the room it was easy to recognize the energy she carried with her. The way she moved had not changed much since the days they first met. There was still that hint of unpredictability in her stride, like someone who was always just one idea away from doing something impulsive. Kimberly started toward the booth, weaving casually between empty tables. Her footsteps echoed lightly against the tile floor as she approached. The hum of the lights overhead continued its steady rhythm, and the smell of coffee hung warmly in the air.
“Lawrence of Arabia!” Kimberly exclaims in a cheerful tone that Larry has come to expect of her. She plops herself down in the booth with Larry. She props her elbow on the table and rests her head in her hand. “What do you wanna talk about?”
“Now Kimberly, you know that I prefer Larry.” He chuckles softly.
“And you know that I give all of my favorite people nicknames! You should feel honored to be in such a lofty, elite club.” She winks playfully.
“Indeed I do feel honored to call myself your friend.” Larry responds. But before he can go any further, the waitress, wearing a standard black Waffle House uniform, approaches the booth with notepad and pen in hand, looking at Kimberly.
“Kimmy.” The waitress works this late shift and doesn’t get many customers, thus people like Larry and Kim who visit on a regular basis like this quickly become known to her. “It has been awhile.”
“Yeah, it has!” She snickers.
“What’s up, Kimmy?” The waitress asks. “Too busy for your Waffle House friends?”
“Never.” Kim shakes her head. “But you know me, always busy globe trotting for Supremely Catty Wrestling…they like cats there, so I’m told…”
“Right.” The waitress laughs at Kim’s humor. “So what do you want? The usual?”
“You know me. Coffee. Black. Don’t doctor that shit.”
“I’ll get to it right away.”
The waitress turns and walks away, preparing to fill the order. Once she is gone Larry turns back to Kimberly and sighs.
“You know, she has a point.”
“What?”
“It has been awhile since you made an appearance for our regular Waffle House visits.” Larry points out, with a hint of judgment in his voice. “The last two visits I showed up and I waited for you but you never showed.”
“Maybe you didn’t wait long enough?” Kim suggests. “I mean, you know I have a reputation for being late.”
“Nice try, my friend, but I waited two hours.”
“Darn.” Kim smirks. “Can’t blame a girl for trying, right?”
The waitress returns with the mug of coffee, black as Kim requested, and sets it down on the table in front of The Woman Scorned. Kim thanks her and the waitress turns and walks away. Once she is gone Larry Dempsey once again puts pressure on his longtime friend.
“Kimberly, you do recall why we have these meetings, do you not?”
“Uh-huh,” she nods her head “to check on each other, make sure we’re not regressing, make sure we’re not going crazy again.” She smirks. “Just between us, I think it’s too late for me!”
“Quite right.” Larry nods his head. “We come together regularly to check in with one another, to make sure we are progressing, that we are not…as you so eloquently put it…going crazy. And I take these visits very seriously, my friend. As you know I did regress myself last year.”
“Yep, you started hearing those funny little voices again. I performed an exorcism and everything.” The Queen of the Death Match sighs with a big grin on her face. “Ah, good memories.”
“Good for you, not for me.” He shakes his head. “Quite honestly, I was terrified of potentially losing my mind again, of being committed again. But you were there for me. You brought me back from the brink and I am eternally grateful to you, my friend. And were it not for these meetings, were it not for you, I am not sure if I would have survived.”
“Don’t worry, Lawrence of Arabia, I’m always here for ya!”
“That’s my point.” He states. “You ARE always here for me. And I am supposed to be there for you when you need me. So when you miss two of our meetings in a row, that bothers me. That raises concerns within me that something potentially could be going wrong in your life.”
“Pffft, no need to worry about me!” She insists, trying to deflect and trying to put his mind at ease. She senses where this is going and does not wish to talk about it. “I am fine!”
“So nothing has happened in your life that I should know about?” He asks skeptically. Kim shakes her head.
“Nope, nothing at all. I mean, there was the Shot of Adrenaline Tournament. Made the semi-finals which I am super proud of. Won my sixth and seventh SCW Underground Titles, putting me in the record book as the person with the most title reigns. SCW recently offered me a very nice new contract. I gotta admit, overall everything seems to be going just great for yours truly!”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah, that’s it!” She insists. “Oh, well, I mean coming up I will wrestle on a beach. Well not on a literal beach, perhaps, but I do get to wrestle in a nice paradise and I get to team with one of my besties Deanna Frost. Unfortunately I also have to team with Satan…or is her name Syren? I honestly can’t remember. But we’re fighting a nation of Europeans who happen to be very Fiery.”
“The European Fiery Nation.”
“Yeah, them.” Kim grins. “I like them…a little less so now that Oktoberfest is gone, but still, I like them. It’s a shame me, Deanna, and Satan will have to maim them soon.”
Larry stares deep into Kim’s eyes. The Woman Scorned hopes that he is buying her act. Slowly he shakes his head.
“You are lying.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.” He nods his head. “Everyone has a tell, including you, and I know your tells. You are lying.”
Williams tries to hide the frustration building within her. She was hoping to bluff her way out of this but it isn’t working. Finally she sighs and shakes her head.
“Oh alright fine! I admit that not everything has been going perfect for me lately; and yes, there is a good reason I missed our last two meetings.”
“Tell me.” Larry insists.
The Queen of the Death Match is still hesitant about saying anything. She would rather not tell him anything about Lucian Floreschu, how he blackmailed her and tried to warp and twist her into something she’s not. It would force her to once again confront demons of her past. But still, this man, Larry Dempsey, he has been one of the few people she can trust fully and wholeheartedly. He has been there for her through thick and thin. Despite the unease and nerves, Kimberly finally begins to relax and let her guard down as she begins to tell him everything.
“You remember my guardian, right?”
“Your foster mother, Emma Floreschu.” Larry states.
“She wasn’t a mother of any sort.” Kim’s anger boils over for just a moment. But she quickly composes herself. “But yes, her…well, her brother Lucian confronted me.”
“You never told me Emma had a brother.”
“Yeah, well I never knew she had a brother.” Kim retorts.
“What did he want with you?”
“Revenge.” Kimberly states. “He knew everything about me, all of my secrets. He knew how I…” her voice drops to a hushed whisper so that only Larry can hear “...murdered my sister’s abusive ex. Most importantly, he knew about how I murdered his sisters.”
“Ah, I see how this would be problematic.” Larry isn’t surprised to hear about the murders because he already knew about Kimberly’s crimes. Though society may not know of them, he does and he is satisfied that she has paid her debt to society and he is content with keeping her secrets.
“He blackmailed me.” Kimberly states bluntly. “He used the secrets to force me become his heir. That’s what he wanted. He wanted to twist me, to corrupt me into becoming as evil as Emma. He wanted me to regress, to go back to being that monster I once was. And he was there very step of the way, like a sick mentor, trying to control my life. He was telling me how to behave and what to do and what to say.” Emotion starts to well up in her face as she recalls these traumatic memories.
“So that’s why you couldn’t make our meetings?”
“Lucian refused to let me visit.” Kim responds with a sad sigh.
“Yet you are here now.” Larry points out. “Has Lucian finally backed down?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “He’s dead.”
“Oh…” Larry’s eyes grow wide “...did you…”
“No.” Kim shakes her head. “My mom did. She didn’t want me to bear the burden of having another murder on my conscience. We killed him, covered it up. As far as everyone knows he went back to Romania and left me in charge of the entire Floreschu empire.”
“So it’s over then?” Larry asks. Kim nods her head.
“I think so, I HOPE so,” she sighs and shakes her head “but I still feel guilty over his death.”
“He was blackmailing you.” Larry points out. “And you didn’t kill him.”
“No, my mom did, but she did it to save me from a trap I created for myself. If I had not murdered Emma and if I had not murdered my sister’s ex, he would have had nothing on me. Maybe this was a cosmic way of making me pay for my own crimes? I mean, I never did time for any of it.”
“You do not owe a cosmic or karmic debt to anyone.” Larry insists with a shake of his head. “You stared Floreschu’s temptation in the face and you resisted. He tried to make you regress, he tried to make you into that monster again but you would not give in. That, my friend, is a victory worth being proud of. It proves you are NOT the same person you once were. You have changed for the better.”
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March 7th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The road that led to the house was little more than a narrow stretch of cracked pavement cutting through a patchwork of neglected land. Tall weeds leaned into the edges of the road as though trying to reclaim it, their dry stalks rustling softly in the late afternoon wind. The sky above rural Massachusetts had begun its slow drift toward evening, clouds stretched thin and pale across a fading blue horizon. It was quiet in that heavy way that only came with distance from the city. No steady hum of traffic, no distant sirens, just the occasional call of a crow somewhere in the trees and the faint creak of old branches rubbing together. The house itself sat crookedly on a patch of uneven ground at the end of a short dirt driveway that looked as though it had not been properly maintained in years. Calling it worn down almost felt generous. The wood siding had faded into an uneven gray, the paint long since peeled away by seasons of harsh winters and humid summers. Several boards along the exterior had warped outward slightly, giving the walls a tired, sagging appearance. The roof dipped unevenly in places, shingles missing here and there like gaps in a worn smile. A small porch clung stubbornly to the front of the structure, its railing leaning slightly forward as though considering giving up entirely. The wooden steps creaked even when the wind brushed against them. One of the porch boards had cracked clean down the middle and had been crudely nailed back together at some point in the distant past. A single outdoor light fixture hung above the front door, its glass cover clouded with dust and insects that had collected there over time.
It was the kind of place most people would glance at once while driving past and immediately dismiss as unlivable. Kimberly Williams stood in the dirt driveway with her hands resting on her hips, staring at the house like it was the most fascinating thing she had seen all day. Most people in her position would have laughed at the idea of living somewhere like this. Kimberly looked almost pleased. Beside her stood Tommy Wasley, her boyfriend, broad shouldered and solid, his presence grounding the scene in a way that contrasted with Kimberly’s restless energy. His thick beard framed a face that carried a mixture of curiosity and mild disbelief as he studied the building in front of them. Tommy crossed his arms slowly as he continued surveying the house, his eyes moving from the sagging porch to the uneven roof and then to the wild yard surrounding it. There was no judgment in his expression, only careful consideration. He was the kind of man who instinctively evaluated things in terms of what could be fixed rather than what was already broken.
“Home sweet home!” Kimberly exclaims as she looks at this place most would call a dump. Tommy looks on at her with a grin on his face.
“You sure you’d rather live here than somewhere more comfortable?”
“Of course!” Kim exclaims. “I mean, I AM COMFORTABLE here! This is where I lived for years and years!”
“I know but…” he sighs “it just doesn’t make sense, if you loved this place why did you leave? Why move into that grand, luxurious estate?”
“Oh that.” Kim rolls her eyes. “A mistake. One that I will never make again.”
“I admit, living in a mansion doesn’t exactly suit your persona.” He looks back at the run down home. “But this certainly does. And if this is where you want to live, then I will happily stay here with you.”
“Awww you’re sweet!” She hugs him tightly. “And I should apologize…”
“Apologize for what?”
“Well, for how I’ve been acting lately. I wasn’t exactly acting like myself.”
“I noticed.” Tommy states. “What was going on?”
The Woman Scorned considers telling him the truth; about the blackmail, about the murders, everything. Something, though, tells her not to, that he isn’t ready for the truth.
“Oh it was Lucian. He was just too controlling. Too domineering. I tried to be patient with him and listen to what he had to say but you know me…” she shakes her head “...I cannot be controlled.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup, that’s it.” It was a half truth, she left out a lot of details, but it is all he needs to know, Kim tells herself. Tommy nods his head.
“It kinda makes sense. That Lucian guy never did sit well with me. Something seemed off about him.”
“He was more than just off…” Kim snickers.
“So where is he now?”
“Oh he went back to Romania.” That is the lie, the cover story she and her mother decided to run with. Part of Kim feels guilty for lying to Tommy but she knows it is for the best.
“What are you going to do with the Floreschu mansion?”
“I dunno.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe I’ll demolish it?”
“Seems to be a waste.”
“Eh, it IS a waste.” Kim retorts. “But I have plenty of time to think about that. I am just happy to be back where I belong in my comfort zone where I truly feel like myself. No more pretending to be something or someone I’m not. And y’know, maybe that’s why I haven’t had a ton of luck in SCW lately?”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean, I couldn’t follow through and win Shot of Adrenaline. I couldn’t keep Syren from winning the world title. I couldn’t keep the Underground Title. A lot of shortcomings. Maybe it’s because I’ve been trying too hard to fit some mold that someone else created for me?”
“Someone like Lucian?”
“Him and people like Franky Poo.” Kim says, referring to the CEO of SCW. “I have no desire to fight him but still, I also will not change to fit someone else’s ideal of who and what I should be. I am Crazy Kim, The Queen of the Death Match, and that’s who I need to be.”
“I hate to remind you, but ONE of those people you brought up, Syren, you have to team with her on Breakdown.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She rolls her eyes. “But I CAN be a team player. I may not like her but for the sake of my friend Deanna, I will do my part to help the TEAM win.”