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+--- Thread: Hollywood vs. The Vision (/showthread.php?tid=4926)
Hollywood vs. The Vision - Kemal Yilmaz - 07-20-2026
4 RP Limit for tag
3500 word limit
Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET THURSDAY, July 23, 2026 (In light of Breakdown likely being delayed until Sunday).
RE: Hollywood vs. The Vision - Braddock - 07-20-2026
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July 18th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The Braddock home had a quiet confidence about it, the kind that came from being lived in rather than displayed. It was unmistakably modern, with clean architectural lines, wide open spaces, and enormous windows that welcomed the South Florida sunshine inside, but it never felt cold or impersonal. Every room carried signs that people actually lived there. Books rested on side tables instead of being arranged solely for decoration. Family photographs occupied shelves alongside wrestling trophies, framed event posters, and souvenirs collected from years of traveling around the world. Nothing looked staged. The house had style, but it also had history. Outside, the Miami afternoon was beginning to settle into the slower pace that arrived after the worst of the day’s heat had passed. Palm trees swayed gently beyond the floor to ceiling windows, their leaves catching the breeze that rolled in from the coast. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue broken only by slow moving white clouds drifting lazily overhead. Sunlight poured through the glass, filling the living room with a warm golden glow that reflected softly off polished hardwood floors. The living room itself occupied the center of the home and felt every bit like the heart of it. The ceiling rose high overhead, making the room feel spacious without becoming cavernous. Neutral colored walls gave the space an understated elegance while allowing the artwork and photographs to provide personality. A large sectional sofa in a light gray fabric wrapped around a substantial wooden coffee table that bore the faint marks of years of use. Large indoor plants occupied the corners of the room, adding touches of green that softened the modern architecture. The faint scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, mixed with the clean smell of polished wood and the subtle fragrance of whatever tropical flowers had been arranged on the kitchen island just beyond the open living space.
The house was unusually quiet. Normally Glory’s personality seemed to fill every room she occupied. Even when she wasn’t speaking, there was an unmistakable energy that followed her, the confident presence of someone who had spent decades commanding arenas full of thousands of people. Her absence left a noticeable gap. The house did not feel empty exactly, but it felt calmer, almost contemplative. Kurt Logan sat comfortably at one end of the sectional, looking perfectly at home in surroundings that had long since become second nature to him. His dark hair was neatly combed, though a few strands had naturally settled out of place over the course of the afternoon. He wore a fitted navy blue polo shirt with the sleeves hugging his athletic arms and a pair of dark jeans that looked comfortably broken in rather than brand new. Even sitting at ease, he carried himself with the quiet posture of someone who had spent much of his life in professional athletics. His shoulders remained naturally square, his movements economical, his expression relaxed but attentive. Across from him sat Melinda Braddock. She looked effortlessly elegant without appearing overdressed for a quiet afternoon at home. Her long blonde hair fell in smooth, carefully maintained waves over her shoulders, catching the afternoon sunlight whenever she turned her head. She wore a soft ivory blouse tucked neatly into fitted light blue jeans that complemented rather than competed with the understated sophistication of the room. The sleeves of the blouse had been rolled just enough to give it a more relaxed appearance while still maintaining its polished look. A delicate gold bracelet rested around one wrist, accompanied by a simple necklace that reflected tiny flashes of sunlight every time she shifted. Anyone meeting her for the first time would likely describe her as graceful. Beside her sat Fiona Logan. The contrast between the two young women remained as striking as ever, yet somehow they looked entirely natural sitting together. Fiona’s long black hair flowed freely over her shoulders and down her back, less meticulously arranged than Melinda’s but no less striking. A few loose strands framed her face, giving her appearance an effortless authenticity that suited her personality perfectly. She wore a charcoal gray fitted T shirt beneath an unbuttoned dark green flannel shirt whose sleeves had been rolled to her elbows. Black jeans and well worn lace up boots completed the outfit, practical clothing chosen for comfort rather than appearance. She leaned slightly forward in her seat instead of reclining comfortably against the cushions. One forearm rested casually on her thigh while her hands remained loosely clasped together. Her posture hinted at someone who always seemed prepared to stand up at a moment’s notice, never quite surrendering completely to relaxation.
The past several weeks had been emotionally exhausting, and while Fiona had regained much of her normal edge, traces of that experience still lingered beneath the surface. The difficult meetings with Todd Osbourne had forced her to revisit memories she had spent years trying to bury. She carried herself well enough that strangers would never notice, but those closest to her could still occasionally see moments when her expression drifted inward for just a second before returning to the present. Being here helped. Sunlight continued drifting slowly across the hardwood floor as the afternoon wore on. Somewhere deeper in the house, the faint hum of the air conditioning blended with the occasional rustle of palm leaves outside. A distant boat could just barely be heard crossing the nearby waterway, its engine fading almost as quickly as it appeared. The living room remained peaceful, wrapped in warm light and comfortable silence. For a little while, with Glory away and the outside world held at bay beyond the glass walls of the house, it felt as though the three of them had been given a rare opportunity to simply exist together.
“Thanks for letting us pop in.” Fiona states.
“And thank you for making sure that mother would not be here.” Melinda says rather cooly. “I would not want her presence to create a disturbance. We all know she has to hog the spotlight.”
“Well when your mom finds out that you two came over and I didn’t tell her she’s going to kill me.” Kurt chuckles. “I mean, she is overseas in England right now but still, she would have at least wanted a brief FaceTime call with you two.”
“That can wait.” Melinda snaps back. “Anything involving her can wait.”
“Tell us how ya really feel why don’t ya?” Fiona snickers. Kurt looks at his two children and sighs.
“Melinda, I have tried so hard not to get involved. I have tried to let you and your mother sort this out between yourselves. But honestly? You should consider talking to her about, well, whatever the hell it is she’s doing that is pissing you off.”
“Not interested.” Braddock shakes her head.
“Your mother doesn’t even know what she did that make you so upset.”
“Then she is a fool.” Melinda remarks. “And I am still not interested in making things right with her, not until she can at least figure out what she did wrong.”
“Whatever you say.” Kurt sighs and shakes his head, deciding not to pursue that particular subject for moment. “I heard you made your return to SCW?”
“Yeah we did!” Fiona exclaims gleefully. “And we really put the boots to that goofy bitch Scarlet Carsons!”
“Making friends as always, I see.” Kurt chuckles.
“Friendships and alliances only get you so far in this business. You know that as well as I do.” Melinda remarks. “We will be smart about where our allegiance will lie, but for now we have to finish what we started with Carsons. Not to mention our return match against Hollywood.”
“Pffft,” Fiona scoffs “we beat those clowns once, we’ll beat them again. Simple.”
“Nothing is ever simple in this business.” Kurt says. “As I’m sure Melinda will be quick to remind you. If I am correct SCW is undergoing a bit of a power struggle, yes? CHBK and the new CEO Frank Delatosso?”
“Hardly a struggle, really.” Fiona says, waving her hands. “Franky got rid of that old dinosaur long before we returned.”
“With CHBK gone we felt it was the perfect timing for our return.” Melinda smirks knowingly. “He never did give us a fair shake. Perhaps the new order will?
“Backstage politics is always a messy thing, girls.” Kurt sighs. “I hope you know what you two are doing.”
“Trust me, I am confident that The Vision will navigate the new status quo quite well.”
“Besides, even if we do ruffle some feathers so what?” Fiona asks. “Big deal! Me and Mels are damn good at what we do. At the end of the day, no matter how politicking goes on, the name of the game is still WINNING and we can always find a way to win. Starting with Hollywood.”
“You seem pretty confident, Fiona.” Kurt changes the subject. “Does this mean you have finally dealt with your old foster father Todd Osbourne?”
The mention of Todd Osbourne instantly causes a drastic shift in the mood. Fiona had a look of mischief upon her lovely face until this point. Now she just frowns; her look is now borderline dread. She and Melinda know the truth; Fiona has yet to deal with the looming figure of her foster father trying to return and trying to make amends and trying to form a relationship with her. The Boston Badass has intentionally tried to avoid it. But Kurt Logan and Melinda Braddock have both been of the mindset that she needs to do something and soon, whether she tell him to get lost or whether she agrees to give him another chance.
“Not yet…” she admits.
“Have you had any further contact with him?” Kurt asks.
Well he is still in Miami, if that’s what you mean.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Outside of that there isn’t much to say. He moved to Miami because he knew Mels has a place here and you live here and that I tend to hang my hat with one of you.”
“So he’s still stalking you?” Kurt asks. Fiona shakes her head.
“No, not at all. He has been respecting my privacy, shockingly enough.”
“It is quite obvious what is going on here.” Melinda Braddock, The Third Generation Goddess, says. “He is letting you make the next move, Fiona.”
“Melinda is right.” Kurt states with a nod of his head. “He is waiting on you to make the next move. So the question is, will you?”
“Do we really have to talk about this?” Fiona whines. “I’d much rather be plotting how I’m gonna bounce Chris and Ryan Hollywood’s heads around the arena like basketballs.”
“You can’t put it off forever.” Melinda pats her on the back gently. Fiona sighs out of frustration.
“Fine.” She shakes her head. “Honestly? I am not sure what I want to do. Every time I see him, hell, every time his name is mentioned, my body freezes up. I become that whimpering girl again that was afraid of him. So really I am honestly not sure what I will do if I happen to run into him again.”
“That’s why it’s best for you to make the next move.” Kurt points out. “That way you have the home field advantage and you have the advantage of knowing he’s coming. No surprises.”
“I’m just not sure I can trust him.”
“I understand where you are coming from, truly I do.” Melinda takes Fiona’s hand grips it tightly. “My mother was pregnant with me as a teenager and my father ran out on her when he found out. When he came back after I turned eighteen, when he tried to return to my life and form a relationship with me after he ran off on me and mother, I was furious. I did not want anything to do with him.”
“But you two worked it out…” Fiona’s voice trails off. Melinda nods her head.
“Yes, we did. I told you the story before but I repeat it again because it is proof positive that people can change. And perhaps Todd is trying to change? Maybe he does genuinely want to make things right between you and him?”
“His Miami residence,” Kurt begins “is it permanent?”
“No, it’s temporary.” Fiona remarks. “His permanent residence is still in Boston and as far as I know he is going to return once he has his definitive answer about where we stand.”
“Well in that case he definitely deserves an answer and closure, even if that answer is a definite no. Even if you tell him to stay out of your life forever, he deserves to hear it so that he can move on with his life.”
“And then you can move on with yours.” Melinda chimes in.
“Fine, you win, quit double teaming me.” Fiona sighs out of frustration. “I’ll meet him. I’ll contact him and arrange a meeting.”
“And you will give him the closure you both deserve?” Melinda asks.
“Yeah…he’ll get his answer…”
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Vlog 72
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Greetings my lovelies! Did you miss us? I know you did because, let’s face it, what meaning does your life have without me, The Third Generation Goddess, and my sister, my partner, my best friend The Boston Badass Fiona Loan, to do what The Vision does best and that is to lead the new generation of professional wrestling into the future?
Did you idiots really think that me and Mels were running away? Did you really think that we had stepped away from Supreme Championship Wrestling? We have fought fake tough guys and fake badasses all over the globe in promotions all over the world. We have won tag team championships every single promotion we have been in. We have endured the pressure of the bright lights. We have stepped up to everyone. Did we get punched in the mouth? Yeah. But did we punch them right back? Damn right we did. Mels and I back down from no challenge and if you thought we were gonna back down and step away from SCW you are a damn fool.
That is a brilliant point, Fiona. The Vision does not back down from a challenge. But do you know who should back down? You know who should quit while they are ahead?
Hollywood. Which brings me to the first set of HASHTAGS!
#ChrisLoser
#RyanLoser
#HollyLoser
You definitely remember us, right boys? And I do hope those memories are painful ones. We have beaten you before and what better way to make our grand return than by picking you apart, piece by piece, yet again.
We saw your pathetic social media; you want to try something new, just try. Some might hear that and feel all warm and fuzzy inside but me? I hear that it makes me sick. That’s not the outlook of a winner. A winner doesn’t just try. A winner WINS and me and Mels, we are winners, unlike the two of you. We know when to pick our spots whereas you two clowns just sit around and wait until some opportunity drops into your laps. Just like this one at Breakdown. It is a great opportunity that fell into your laps and you dweebs did nothing to deserve it. You have a hell of a chance to take down a premier tag team in me and Mels and finally get the idiot fans to talking about you again. And it all just fell into your lap. Me and Mels? We MAKE our opportunities. We TAKE our opportunities. We don’t need anything to just fall into our laps.
Ah but allow me to correct my dear sister on something. What you two boys have is not a true blue opportunity. You have what I call “the illusion of an opportunity.” Fate has put you in this position so that you will remain content and happy, so that you will not rebel against the status quo it has set up. The truth is, Hollywood, that Fate has set you up for failure against The Vision in the form of a so-called opportunity. But it is by no means an opportunity. Not for you, at least. Fate has gifted the REAL opportunity to myself and Fiona, an opportunity to remind SCW what we are capable of.
Great, there’s that fate talk again. Can’t we just beat the crap out of ‘em Mels and ignore the fate stuff?
No worries, Fiona. We will have plenty of time for that. Right, Chris? Right Ryan? That is what you can expect come Breakdown.
#AcceptYourFate
#TheVisionIsBack
#YourFateIsSealed
RE: Hollywood vs. The Vision - Braddock - 07-22-2026
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July 20th, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The café occupied a quiet corner a few blocks away from the busiest streets of downtown Miami, tucked beneath a row of mature palm trees whose fronds swayed gently in the warm coastal breeze. It was the sort of place that regulars discovered rather than tourists. The outdoor seating area was enclosed by waist high planters overflowing with bright tropical flowers and glossy green foliage, creating just enough separation from the sidewalk to make it feel intimate without ever becoming isolated. The late morning sun bathed everything in a soft golden light. The worst of the day’s heat had not yet settled over the city, leaving the air pleasantly warm rather than oppressive. Cars rolled past at a steady pace, their tires humming against the pavement. Every so often a city bus rumbled through the intersection, followed by the cheerful ring of a bicycle bell or the distant sound of laughter drifting from somewhere farther down the street. Small round tables dotted the café’s brick patio beneath wide cream colored umbrellas that provided welcome patches of shade. Ceramic cups clinked softly against saucers as servers moved between tables carrying coffee, pastries, and colorful brunch plates. Most of the patrons seemed completely absorbed in their own mornings. At one of the tables nearest the edge of the patio sat Fiona Osbourne. She had chosen a seat that gave her a clear view of both the sidewalk and the entrance to the café. Whether that decision had been conscious or instinctive was difficult to tell, but it reflected the quiet alertness she rarely managed to turn off completely.
Her long black hair rested loosely over her shoulders, stirred occasionally by the breeze. The sunlight highlighted subtle shades hidden within the dark strands, giving them a soft sheen whenever she shifted. She wore a charcoal gray fitted T shirt beneath an unbuttoned dark green overshirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to her forearms. Black jeans and well worn lace up boots completed the outfit, practical clothing that suited her far better than anything fashionable ever could. She looked every bit the tomboy she had always been, comfortable in clothes chosen for function rather than appearance. Yet there was nothing careless about her. Everything fit well, everything reflected her personality, and together it created a look that was unmistakably Fiona. An untouched iced coffee rested on the table in front of her. Condensation slowly collected on the glass before dripping onto a folded napkin beneath it. Every now and then she reached for the drink, only to stop halfway, her fingers hovering briefly before retreating again. Her nervousness revealed itself not through dramatic gestures but through small habits that would likely go unnoticed by anyone who did not know her. Her eyes drifted repeatedly toward the sidewalk. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. One boot tapped lightly against the brick patio for a few seconds before becoming still. She had spent days convincing herself that this meeting was necessary. Now that the moment had finally arrived, certainty had become considerably harder to maintain.
Around her, life continued exactly as it always had. Conversations rose and fell around neighboring tables. A server laughed at something said by a customer before disappearing back inside. Palm leaves rustled overhead. Somewhere nearby, music played softly from hidden outdoor speakers, almost disappearing beneath the sounds of the city. None of it reached Fiona completely. Her attention remained fixed on the sidewalk beyond the planters. Then she saw him. Todd Osbourne emerged from the flow of pedestrians without fanfare, walking at an unhurried pace toward the café. He looked much as she remembered him, although the passing years had settled more visibly across his face. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, touched only lightly by age. He possessed an average build, neither particularly athletic nor overweight, carrying himself with the ordinary appearance of a middle class man who blended easily into almost any crowd. He wore a light blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark khaki trousers, and practical brown shoes that had clearly seen regular use but remained well cared for. A simple wristwatch rested beneath one cuff. There was nothing flashy about him, nothing that drew attention. If someone had passed him on the street without context, they might have assumed he was heading to lunch after work or meeting an old acquaintance for coffee. As he drew closer, his eyes found Fiona almost immediately. For a brief moment, both of them simply looked at one another across the patio.
Fiona felt the familiar knot tighten in her stomach. Memories had a strange way of collapsing time. In one instant she was an adult sitting at a café in Miami. In the next she could almost feel herself slipping backward into emotions she had spent years learning how to control. She took a slow breath. Her shoulders straightened slightly, more from determination than comfort. Todd stepped onto the brick patio, weaving carefully between occupied tables. The closer he came, the quieter everything else seemed to become, even though the café itself remained just as lively as before. When he reached her table, he paused for a moment, offering a small, restrained nod before gently pulling out the empty chair opposite Fiona. The chair scraped softly across the brick as he lowered himself into it.
“Thank you, Fiona.” Todd says quietly. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You…you look good.” Todd says. “And how is Melinda? I heard you two are back in Supreme Championship Wrestling?”
“Yeah, The Vision is back and better than ever.” Fiona snaps back quickly. “But we’re not here for small talk, Todd. I spent years trying to forget about you. Ever since Glory Braddock took me in, and ever since I made my big break in professional wrestling, I tried to put you in the rearview mirror.”
“I know.” Todd nods his head.
“Do you?” She asks. “Because you kept coming back. You tried to stick your damn nose back into my business, you tried to return to my life. It felt like you were stalking me, Todd. If that’s your way of trying to win me back then you were doing an awful job.”
“Yes, I know.” Todd sighs. “I was doing an awful job, just like I was doing a terrible as a father.”
“You were never my father.” She hisses. “I never had a father until I met Kurt Logan.”
“Yeah.” Todd nods his head. “He treats you well, much better than I did. I was wrong, Fiona. I was wrong for trying to exploit your natural beauty by making you be a model. I was wrong to make money off of you. I was your agent not a father and I sincerely apologize.”
The Boston Badass stares deep into his eyes. She wants to hate him, she wants to tell him to go to hell. But deep inside his eyes she sees something unexpected; she sees regret and remorse. She senses that he is sincere. He truly is apologetic.
“My biological parents were drug abusers who abandoned me. Then you? You used me. I do have a father now and his name is Kurt Logan.” She sighs. “I can forgive you, Todd…but I can never ever forget.”
“I understand.” Todd stands up.
“Wait.” Fiona says quickly. Todd stops and looks over at her. “This isn’t goodbye.”
“It isn’t?”
“I am willing to see you again in the future. I’m even open to maybe renewing a relationship. But for now I just need you to keep your distance while I figure things out. Ok?”
“That’s…” he smiles. “...that’s fine.” And with that, Todd walks off, leaving Fiona alone.
Fiona remained seated long after Todd disappeared into the steady flow of pedestrians, her eyes lingering on the spot where he had last been visible. The café slowly returned to normal around her. The sounds she had barely noticed during the conversation gradually found their way back into her awareness. She let out a slow breath she had not realized she had been holding, her shoulders sinking slightly as the emotional weight of the meeting finally began to settle over her. A familiar figure stepped through the café gate a few moments later.
Melinda Braddock crossed the brick patio with the same effortless composure she seemed to carry everywhere she went. Her long blonde hair rested in soft, carefully styled waves over her shoulders, catching the late morning sunlight with every step. She was dressed elegantly without appearing overdressed for the setting, wearing a sleeveless ivory blouse tucked neatly into a light blue knee length skirt that moved gently with the coastal breeze. Nude colored sandals completed the outfit, while a small cream handbag rested comfortably over one shoulder. Delicate gold earrings and a matching bracelet added subtle touches of refinement that complemented rather than overshadowed her naturally graceful appearance.
There was nothing hurried about the way she approached. Her posture remained straight, her expression calm, almost serene, yet there was unmistakable concern in her blue eyes as they settled on Fiona. She had deliberately given her adoptive sister the privacy to face Todd alone, honoring Fiona’s wish to confront the past on her own terms. Even so, she had never been far away. Anyone paying close attention might have noticed that she arrived almost too quickly for someone coming from elsewhere, evidence that she had remained nearby the entire time, close enough to step in if Fiona had needed her, but wise enough to stay out of sight until the conversation had reached its end.
“So, did everything go well?”
“It went as well as can be expected.” Fiona answers.
“I had a hard time reading him as he left.” Melinda states. “Did he get the answer he had hoped for?”
“I didn’t close the door on a possible reconciliation.” Fiona retorts. “So yeah, I guess he got what he wanted.” She sighs. “Does that make me weak for forgiving him so quickly?”
“No.” Melinda shakes her head. “Sometimes forgiveness is the strongest thing someone can do. I forgave my biological father for running out on me and mom. I forgave Clyde. Both instances turned out well.”
“Yeah…” Fiona sighs “...hopefully this will turn out good.”
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On Camera
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The scene is set against a simple, solid neutral studio backdrop; a clean, seamless light gray wall illuminated by soft, diffused studio lighting that keeps the focus entirely on the striking aesthetic contrast between the two women standing side by side; The Third Generation Goddess and The Boston Badass. On the left, Melinda Braddock stands in a confident, polished pose wearing a vibrant, monochrome hot-pink tailored outfit. She wears an oversized, structured blazer in vivid magenta draped casually over her shoulders like a cape, paired with a matching square-neck crop top and high-waisted, front-pleated trousers with ankle-length cuffed hems. Her hands rest casually in her pockets, showing off metallic gold ankle-strap heels, straight shoulder-length blonde hair parted to the side, and a bold red lip. Standing right beside her with an edgy presence, Fiona Logan poses tilted slightly inward in an all-black attire centered around a high-shine vinyl corset crop top with front hook-and-eye fastenings and a pointed hem. She wears low-rise dark fitted pants secured with a glossy black belt and a decorative metal hip chain, complemented by layered silver chain necklaces with a cross pendant, silver rings, a belly button piercing, and dark polished nails. Peering over a pair of small, round, black-tinted sunglasses, her long, straight dark hair is styled with full straight-across bangs and subtle reddish highlights, creating a striking counterpoint to the bright, clean tailoring beside her.
“We were never gone. And if you thought we were, then you just do not know The Vision.” Melinda remarks. “Fate has brought us together, Fate brought us to this grand stage, and Fate will continue to guide us and lead us to the promised land. We allow Fate to guide our actions and Fate deemed it necessary to pick our spot. Fate dictated that we strike when the time was right. And now that we struck, every other tag team in SCW should be afraid.”
“Just ask Carsons.” Fiona smirks knowingly. “If you thought you were through with us you were dead wrong. Me and Mels are just getting started and to be honest, Fate or not, The Vision never backs down or backs away from a fight. We were waiting for the perfect opportunity to return. And the time is now and here we are. We will finish you off in due time but for now we’re gonna terrorize the tag team division and take what should have been ours from the beginning. We are going to take possession of the tag team division.” She points a finger at the camera. “And that brings us to Chris and Ryan Hollywood.”
“You two speak of trying something new.” Melinda chuckles and shakes her head. “You can try something new, you can change, you can adapt and evolve all you want, but you must eventually face the sad cold hard fact that Fate is just not in your favor. Evolution is a fact of life but so is Fate and Fate is against you, boys. How else do you explain your constant failures? How else do you explain the fact that in SCW you are looked at as a joke? Comic Relief.” She motions to herself and Fiona. “When The Vision returned, we made headlines. But you? Barely a ripple.”
“We could cripple the both of you and no one would even notice.” The Boston Badass snickers nastily. “No one expects much out of you. No one expects you to give The Vision much of a fight. And let’s be honest, we’ve beaten you already. This is just going to be history revisited. It’s going to be like one of those reenactments. Or one of those movies based on a true story. That’s your thing right, Hollywood? Movies? This match on Breakdown is based on a true story, a true story of how The Vision OWNS Hollywood.” Fiona grins. Melinda nods her head.
“Do not mistake this as disrespect. You certainly serve a purpose. But your purpose is to elevate your superiors. Your purpose is to make myself and Fiona look good. On Breakdown, we make our return, we reclaim our spot and remind the SCW tag team division what we are capable of. And you? My advice to you is do not fight Fate because you cannot win. Accept your place. Serve your purpose and maybe it will be easier for you?”
“Not likely.” Fiona shakes her head.
“Your Fate is sealed, boys.”