Kimberly Williams Super Thread of Awesomeness!

[The Matt]

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December 16th, 2025
New York City
Off Camera
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Shattered Reality was a bittersweet event for The Woman Scorned. Sure, she had hoped to defeat Syren. Primarily she wanted to keep her as far away from the SCW World Championship as humanly possible. Earning a world title match of her own would be nice, too, because The Woman Scorned is well aware that she is one world title victory away from Supreme Championship status, something she would not mind earning before her tenure with SCW is over. Still, even in defeat the erratic and eccentric Kimberly Williams can find a bright spot in it all. Now that she is finished humoring CHBK and other SCW management with these other “side quests”, Kimberly can focus on what she really wants; a return to the Underground Division and hopefully reclaiming her SCW Underground Championship. Kim currently sits tied for most Underground Title victories and wants desperately to hold that record all to herself. She has had to sit by on the sidelines watching from afar as Enigma, Colleen, and Xander have all challenged for the gold that she believes should be hers. Now Colleen is out of the discussion and so is Xander. Kimberly is no longer distracted by silly things such as world championships. The Queen of the Death Match can now return to where she rightfully belongs; in the Underground.

Kimberly can see her path back to the Underground getting even clearer now with the return of Fatal Fortunes. The first event of 2026 will be Fatal Fortunes, an event based entirely on chaos and The Woman Scorned thrives on chaos. This event where chaos reigns supreme is designed for someone like her. If there was ever a more opportune time to reach up and snag opportunity by the throat, it was now. Fatal Fortunes is providing the Queen of the Death Match with just the opportunity she needs to advance her goals. But before she can make preparations for Fatal Fortunes, for a night of chaos and mayhem, Kimberly must take care of some much unwanted business, business that even has someone as defiant and fearless as Williams a little nervous and uncomfortable.

The office sat high above the street, insulated from the noise of New York by height and money. The building itself was an old one, its stone exterior scrubbed clean and modernized just enough to remain respectable without losing its sense of authority. Inside, the attorney’s suite carried that same careful balance. Everything was deliberate. The walls were paneled in dark wood polished to a quiet sheen. Framed certificates hung in perfect alignment, their glass reflecting the muted light of the city beyond the windows. Even the air smelled expensive, a restrained blend of leather, paper, and something faintly citrus that suggested money well spent rather than comfort sought. Kimberly Williams sat in one of the waiting chairs, her posture stiff despite her best efforts to appear relaxed. The chair was upholstered in a fabric that did not invite slouching, its firm structure pressing her spine into compliance. She noticed that immediately, because she noticed everything today. Every detail felt sharper, more intrusive, as if the room itself were aware of her discomfort and intent on amplifying it. Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened glass of a display cabinet across the room, and she hated what she saw. Her red hair was brushed smooth and styled with care, falling into place instead of fighting gravity and common sense the way it usually did. Her clothes were immaculate, tailored and clean, chosen with purpose rather than instinct. Nothing was ripped. Nothing was stained. Nothing was loud or defiant or careless. The look sat on her like a costume she had agreed to wear under protest, one that fit too well to be shrugged off but never quite felt like her own skin. She shifted slightly, the faint rustle of fabric sounding too refined for her liking. Kimberly was used to movement that made noise, to boots scuffing floors and jackets creasing where they were not supposed to. She was used to looking like someone who did not care, because most of the time she truly did not. Today, though, every line of her appearance suggested restraint and control, and the contradiction gnawed at her. It felt wrong to be this polished in a place that demanded seriousness. Wrong to look like someone who belonged.

If that were not enough, Lucian Floreschu sat beside her. He occupied his chair with an ease that irritated her on principle alone. Black hair neatly combed, posture relaxed but alert, he looked entirely comfortable in the space. There was something about him that seemed to absorb the room rather than be shaped by it. He did not fidget. He did not glance around with curiosity or impatience. His presence felt settled, as if he had already been here many times before, even if that were not true. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who had learned long ago how to wait without wasting time. His Romanian features were sharp and expressive in a way that made Kimberly uneasy, as though every neutral expression concealed calculation beneath it. Even when he was still, she sensed movement behind his eyes, thoughts lining up and reorganizing themselves with quiet efficiency. She did not trust him. She did not particularly like him. The fact that she was here with him at all made her jaw tighten. But she had no choice but to be here with him on this day; Lucian knew most of Kimberly’s deep dark secrets, secrets that she had kept hidden…or at least she thought she had kept hidden.

The disappearances of Emma and Sorina Floreschu, Lucian’s sisters. Both were murders committed by Kim herself. Lucian knew of them and had evidence against her. The disappearance of Damian, the abusive ex-boyfriend of Kim’s identical twin Marie Jones. He, too, was murdered and Lucian could prove it. All of this was being used to blackmail The Woman Scorned into doing what he wanted and today he wanted Kim by his side to meet this fancy New York City attorney for reasons that are still unknown to her. Lucian simply told her to be there and that all would be explained. Kimberly has no choice but to obey…for now.

The silence between them stretched, broken only by the soft hum of the building’s climate control and the distant, filtered sound of traffic far below. Kimberly focused on the view outside the window, where the city pressed on in miniature. Cars crawled along the streets like toys, pedestrians reduced to motion and color without detail. It felt strange to be so removed from it all, perched above the chaos in a room designed to make decisions that would ripple outward into lives she could not see. Her knee bounced once before she caught herself and forced it still. She folded her hands together, then immediately separated them again, irritated by how unnatural the gesture felt. The tension had nowhere to go. She could not pace. She could not swear. She could not even glare properly without feeling like she was drawing attention to herself in a place that thrived on discretion. Lucian, meanwhile, remained composed, his presence a steady reminder that this situation was not accidental. He belonged to the kind of world that produced offices like this, rooms where power was quiet and consequences were written in careful language. Kimberly existed on the fringes of that world at best, crashing into it only when circumstances forced her hand.

“I feel ridiculous…” Kim remarks, finally breaking the silence.

“You look lovely.”

“Maybe, but I do not do LOVELY.” Kim snaps back. “I do chaos. I do eccentric. I do insanity. I do not do lovely.”

“Well you are my niece now, you are part of the family, and any member of my family will most certainly look the part.”

“I am NOT your niece and I am NOT part of your damn family. I am a Jones.”

“Yes and your sisters, your mother, they all seem to be ok dressing the part, do they not?” Lucian smiles arrogantly. “What seems to be your problem with dressing like you come from money?”

“What can I say? I enjoy being the black sheep of the family.”

“I know that you do. Nevertheless, you will play the role of my niece and you will play it to perfection if you wish to stay out of trouble.” He sneers. “Do I need to remind you, dear sweet Kimberly, that my sister Emma…you know, the one you murdered…she trained you well, she groomed you to take over her operations one day. She would never have molded you into a piece of garbage and filth. Therefore I know that YOU KNOW how to play the role and I expect you to do so.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Kim folds her arms over her chest and pouts. She stares across at the empty desk, it stood empty, its surface meticulously arranged. A leather blotter, a pen placed parallel to its edge, a closed folder waiting to be opened. Everything was prepared, waiting for the person who would soon occupy the space and give the room its purpose. The absence felt heavy, like a held breath.

Time stretched. Each passing second sharpened Kimberly’s awareness of why she was here, of what this meeting represented, of the fact that once it began there would be no pretending it was just another strange day. She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, steadying herself without quite calming down. Somewhere beyond the door, footsteps approached, measured and confident, and the quiet of the waiting room shifted in response, signaling that the moment she had been dreading was finally about to arrive.

The sound of footsteps stopped just outside the office door, followed by the soft click of a latch turning. The door opened with practiced smoothness, revealing a man who looked as though he had been shaped by rooms like this rather than merely working in them. The attorney was tall and trim, silver threading neatly through dark hair that had not yet surrendered to age. His suit was charcoal, impeccably pressed, the cut conservative but expensive in a way that did not need to announce itself. He carried a slim leather portfolio tucked under one arm, worn just enough to suggest frequent use rather than carelessness. His expression was composed, neutral without being cold, the face of someone accustomed to walking into tension without absorbing it.

“Ms. Williams,” he said, his voice calm and measured, carrying just enough warmth to be polite. His gaze flicked briefly to Lucian, lingering there for a fraction of a second longer. “Mr. Floreschu. Thank you for your patience.”

Kimberly straightened despite herself, irritation flaring at how instinctive the reaction was. She rose from her chair a beat too quickly, the legs of it whispering against the floor. The movement drew her attention again to her clothes, to how smooth and cooperative everything felt, and she hated that too. Lucian stood more slowly, unhurried, offering the attorney a small, controlled smile that never reached his eyes. The attorney nodded once, acknowledging them both, then closed the door behind him with a soft finality. The room seemed to settle after that, the outside world neatly sealed away. He crossed to the desk, setting his portfolio down with care and aligning it precisely with the edge. Every movement was economical, rehearsed through years of repetition. Kimberly watched him as he moved, cataloging details without meaning to. The way he loosened his cuff slightly. The way he glanced at the folder waiting on the desk, already aware of its contents without opening it. This was a man who preferred preparation to surprise, who disliked mess in any form.

“I am Daniel Hargreeve,” he said as he reached the chair behind the desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Kimberly sat again, hands resting tensely in her lap, while Lucian mirrored the motion beside her with unsettling ease. Hargreeve adjusted the chair once, precisely, then lowered himself into it, posture straight and composed, folding seamlessly into the role the room had been built for.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hargreeve. You served my sister, did you not?”

“Indeed I did.” He nods his head. “After her passing I served your other sister, Sorina. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Floreschu.”

“Please, no need for formalities. Call me Lucian.” He motions to Kim. “And Kimberly here is my niece.”

Kimberly can take no more of this charade. “Not by blood!” She blurts out, a smirk forming on her face. “Draw some blood and run DNA tests if ya like! Not related! Nope!”

“Ah, well, you don’t have to be blood related to be family.” Lucian answers back, shooting Kim a glare that is more of a warning than anything else. “My sister Emma raised Kimberly from birth as if she were her own.”

“I see.” The attorney answers. “She obviously got your sister’s fashion sense. You look lovely, Kimberly.”

“Gee, thanks.” Kimberly states, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“Well, shall we get down to business?” Hargreeve smiles politely. “I believe we all know why we are here…Miss Kimberly’s real estate business will be signed over to the Floreschu family.”

This statement right there was enough to set off The Woman Scorned. She didn’t know why she was there; now she does and she doesn’t like it.

“What?!” Her voice is loud, loud enough to likely bother other people in the adjacent waiting room. Lucian again shoots Kimberly a nasty glare before turning his attention back to the attorney, who himself seems a little confused by all of this.

“Perhaps we do not know why we are here?”

“My niece is just a little nervous.” Lucian says calmly. “Would you give us time to talk things over?”

“Sure, of course.”

The attorney rises up out of his seat. He quickly walks away from his desk and exits the office, leaving Lucian alone with Kimberly Williams. The moment they are alone, Lucian instantly turns up the heat.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Uh, yeah!” Kim snickers. “Didn’t Emma tell you? I’m nuts. I’m bonkers. I’m a loony tune. I’m…”

“You are a murderer and I can PROVE it!” Lucian snaps back angrily. “Remember that and remember that you MUST play your role otherwise I will expose you!”

“Heh, you said ‘expose’...”

“You know what I mean!”

At this moment, The Queen of the Death Match kicks off her heels and then folds her legs up under herself in the seat. Kim finally feels a little more comfortable. Despite the situation she is a little more relaxed. She leans back with her hands over her head.

“So tell me, Loony Lucian, what ARE we doing here? Really?” Kim asks. “I mean, seriously, you never did tell me a darn thing until we got here and even then I only found out through the damn lawyer. So is there anything else you wanna tell me?”

“You already heard it from Hargreeve.” Lucian states coldly. “Your real estate business will be placed under the Floreschu family control. The attorney will prepare the documents and you will sign it over.”

“Like hell I will!” Kim exclaims, her own temper boiling over. “That real estate business is mine! I started it as a side gig to help people get affordable housing, not so you could make money! I built it! I…”

“Hush now!” Lucian holds up his hand to silence her. “It still will be yours as long as you remain part of the family.” His cold demeanor shifts slightly. He smiles smugly and arrogantly. “Besides, you do not have much of a choice, now do you? Remember you murdered three people and I have the evidence to prove it. I can ruin not just your life but your entire family’s. If you want to save their reputation and save yourself from life behind bars or maybe even the death penalty then you should really think about cooperating.”

Kimberly nervously looks from side to side, assessing her options in her head. Quickly she realizes that she has no real options other than to submit. Finally she sighs and nods her head.

“Ok, you get what you want…” she snarls “...happy now?”

“That’s all I needed.” Lucian smiles triumphantly. “Your cooperation. You will find that things run smoothly when you simply cooperate.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in while you can.”

“Excellent. Now put your shoes back on, you look foolish. I will call the attorney back in so we can finalize everything…” he leans in closer “...despite what you may think, Kimberly, I am not trying to destroy you. I am merely trying to finish the work my sister started.”

“In that case you have no idea of the ticking time bomb you are screwing around with.” Kim snaps back defiantly. “Emma wanted to mold me into one of her little puppets but all she managed to do was turn me into a monster. I have kept that monster bottled up for a very long time, Lucian, but if you keep pushing me…”

“If I keep pushing you, you will still do nothing.” He answers coldly yet confidently. “I have evidence against you, remember? Besides, my sister let greed and jealousy cloud her judgment. I will succeed where she failed and trust me, you will thank me for it when it is all over.”

[The Matt]

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December 27th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The house had never felt hostile to Kimberly Williams, but it had never felt honest either. It sat on a quiet street where lawns were trimmed into obedience and porches were decorative rather than lived on. The neighboring homes stood at polite distances from one another, each one carefully curated to suggest success without ever revealing personality. Even now, with cardboard boxes stacked against the walls and furniture partially disassembled, the place still carried an air of restraint, as though it disapproved of the chaos unfolding inside it. And nothing and no one could ever restrain Kimberly Williams. Lucian Floreschu has been doing his best, and succeeding to some degree, to restrain her through blackmail but even then it is minimal success at best. And on this day Lucian is the last person on the mind of The Woman Scorned. She is focusing on her boyfriend Tommy and their inevitable move away from this upscale neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts that they had been calling home for most of 2025 and back into Kim’s old home in a run down dump in the rough part of town. Is it smart? Safe? No, on both counts. But it is what makes Kimberly feel comfortable and at ease. Comfort is one thing Kim wants now more than ever, especially with Lucian always lurking in the background.

Sunlight streamed through wide, spotless windows, catching dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. The living room looked larger than it ever had, stripped of rugs and art, its echoes softened only by the muffled thud of packing tape being pulled and torn. Everything smelled faintly of cardboard and marker ink, layered over the lingering traces of expensive cleaning products that Kimberly had never bothered to buy herself. This house had come with expectations built into its walls, expectations she had never asked for and never quite managed to meet. Kimberly stood barefoot in the middle of it all, surrounded by half filled boxes labeled in aggressive handwriting. Her red hair was tied back messily, a few strands escaping no matter how many times she shoved them behind her ears. She looked relaxed, almost buoyant, moving from one pile to another with restless energy. Every item she picked up felt lighter than it should have, as if the act of packing it away was already loosening something inside her chest. Across the room, Tommy Wasley wrestled with a box that was very clearly labeled BOOKS and very clearly overloaded. He was a big man, broad shouldered and heavyset, his beard thick and untrimmed in a way that suggested comfort rather than neglect. A faded band shirt clung to his frame, stretched slightly across his stomach as he bent to lift the box and immediately reconsidered his life choices.

“Good thing I still have my muscle and strength from my time with EMERGE and SCW, this box is trying to kill me…” Tommy says “...I think it is full of bricks. Or maybe you secretly collect small anvils.”

Kimberly glanced over her shoulder, eyes bright, lips curling into a grin that carried far too much delight for the situation.

“That is the literature section, thank you very much. Words have weight. Emotional weight. Also physical weight apparently.”

“I am just saying, when we get to the other place, these are going on a lower shelf. Preferably the floor.”

The other place. The thought sent a little spark of excitement through Kimberly that she did not bother to hide. Her old house was smaller, older, rough around the edges in ways that could not be polished out with money or landscaping. The neighborhood was louder, messier, unpredictable. People argued on stoops and laughed too loudly late at night. Sirens were a fact of life. So were stray cats, corner stores with flickering signs, and neighbors who knew her name and her business whether she liked it or not. It felt like home. For someone as abnormal as Kimmy, it was as normal as it could possibly be. She taped up another box and shoved it aside with her foot, surveying the room with satisfaction.

“I swear this place has been watching me since we moved in…” she says, peering up at the wall “...see?! A hidden camera!”

“That’s a smoke detector, babe.”

“I knew that!” She retorts. “Seriously though, its like it is waiting for me to put my elbows on the counter or play music too loud so it can call the cops on my soul.”

“You really hated it that much?” He asked. Kimberly shrugs her shoulders.

“Hate is such a strong word. I would say it made my skin itch. And not in the fun way. Everyone smiles here like they are auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. No one ever yells. No one ever throws anything. It is deeply suspicious.”

She plopped down onto the floor without ceremony, leaning back against a box and stretching her legs out in front of her. The hardwood was cool against her skin, too clean, too perfect. Tommy sat beside her with a heavy thump, the floor creaking in response as if relieved to finally be treated like a floor.

“I liked the space, the quiet.” Tommy says. “But I like you not looking like you are about to chew through drywall a lot more.”

“See, that is why I am keeping you. Excellent priorities.”

She bumped her shoulder into his, then leaned her head against his arm. For a moment, the house faded into the background, just another structure they were passing through rather than a destination they were meant to stay in.

“Besides, my old place has character. And by character I mean questionable plumbing, neighbors who will absolutely help you hide a body, and a corner diner that serves pancakes at three in the morning without asking follow up questions. That is culture, Tommy.”

He laughed, deep and warm, the sound filling the too large room.

“You do realize we are moving backward on the socioeconomic ladder, right?”

“Oh no, not the ladder! Anything but the ladder! How will I survive without silent judgment and decorative rock?!” She pushed herself back to her feet. “Trust me, I breathe better over there. And I like breathing. It is very on trend this year.”

“You know what else I noticed about you? Something different?” He asks.

“No more Queens of Chaos t-shirts?” Kim asks. “Oh I’ve ditched that garbage last year when they dumped me. They clearly have no class.”

“Not that.” He chuckles, a guffaw. “I mean YOU…you seem to be happier. Does it have anything to do with Fatal Fortunes? That is chaos to the nth degree and chaos is your thing.”

“Mayyyyybe…” Kim smirks knowingly, a hint of mischief in her gorgeous eyes “...I do love some good chaos and Fatal Fortunes will bring it all and then some! I’m sure everyone is on the edge of their seatings anxiously hoping for a title match.” She shakes her head vehemently. “Not moi!”

“I call bs on that, babe.” Tommy grins from ear to ear, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You have declared on multiple occasions how you want to break the record and become a six time Underground Champion. You have stated you want to earn Supreme Status and that requires you winning the SCW World Title. That’s TWO title shots you want.”

“Yeah but those will come in time.” She winks. “As long as I can create beautiful, glorious chaos throughout the land I will be happy and Fatal Fortunes will bring me that opportunity!”

Tommy is about to speak up again when they hear the doorbell ringing. Both he and Kimberly instantly furrow their brows in confusion. Of all the time to be expecting visitors, now is not that time.

“Kimmy…were you expecting anyone?”

“Nooo…” she frowns “...why would anyone be visiting? Don’t they know we’re not here any longer?!”

“We’re technically still here, babe.”

“Oh yeah!”

The doorbell rings again. Kimberly sighs as she turns and starts making a beeline to the door. Tommy follows suit. Williams swings the door open and her jaw hits the floor, that positive upbeat, jovial attitude she had almost instantly disappears. Her heart drops into her stomach as she sees who is there at her doorstep.

Lucian Floreschu.

Kimberly would love to strangle him right here and now. That would not be wise. Murder in broad daylight is typically frowned upon. Plus she doesn’t want Tommy to see her upset. The Woman Scorned puts a brave face, pretending as if nothing is wrong when deep down inside she is ready to scream.

“Well good afternoon, sweet Kimberly.”

“Lucian.” Kim states dryly. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, hi,” Tommy waves nervously “boyfriend back here…what’s up, Kim? Who is this guy?”

“Yes, Kimberly.” Lucian says with a smug grin on his face. “It isn’t nice to keep your boyfriend in the dark about your uncle.”

“Uncle?” Tommy asks. “On the Jones side or Williams side?”

“Neither, and he’s technically not really my uncle.” Kim states definitively. “Lucian here is Emma’s brother.

“Emma?” Tommy arches his brow out of curiosity. “The same who raised you? Who tore you from your mother’s arms? Who…”

“Yep, the one and the same!” Kim nods her head.

“I’m kinda surprised that he’d want to see you.” Tommy eyes Lucian suspiciously. “I’m surprised you haven’t torn him apart. You hated Emma.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Kim grins as she turns her attention back to Lucian, sending him a silent message, eager to see how he handles this. Sure enough Lucian has an answer for this, he always has an answer.

“It is true, Mr. Wasley, that my sister wasn’t exactly the nicest of people, and yes, she did mistreat Kimberly here, but I am here now and I intend to try and build a good, positive relationship with my niece,” he puts a strong emphasis on the word ‘niece’ knowing it will anger Kimberly “to make up for the past evils of my sister.”

“Such a great guy right!” Kim says with sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“That is why I am here, actually.” Lucian answers quickly. He digs into his pocket and produces a set of keys. “I heard you two were moving and I said to myself that any niece of mine should only live in the very best of homes!”

“Kimmy was actually hoping to live in something a little, uh, low scale.” Tommy says. Lucian shakes his head.

“Nonsense! Nothing but the best for Kimberly!” He places the keys into Kim’s hand. “These are the keys to Emma’s mansion. You have seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Only in passing.” Kim snorts. “Emma raised me off the grid in the wilderness.”

“Ah, such a shame.” Lucian smiles. “But now you get a chance to live it up, live in the marvelous masterpiece that she hid from you all these years, because it is your birthright.”

Kimberly hates this. She was so close to returning to what was comfortable to her, to what made her feel safe. Yet she looks into Lucian’s eyes and she knows that this isn’t a request; this is a demand. He is silently ordering her to move into the mansion and she knows if she doesn’t he will expose her. She has no choice but to move up from one upscale place to an even more luxurious home and it is driving her crazy that she cannot do anything about it.

“Well Tommy, looks like you get your wish.” She smirks. “We’re moving into the mansion.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy asks. “You were so excited about returning to your old place?”

“Uh, yeah, of course I’m sure.” Kim nods her head, hoping that she sounded convincing. “How can I turn down such a great opportunity, right?”

Tommy, for his part, seems convinced, and even a little bit relieved that they aren’t moving into that seedier, rougher neighborhood. Kim, however, feels a part of herself dying. If she could cry she would. Lucian is slowly but surely taking control of every aspect of her life.

==========
January 1st, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera
==========

The late afternoon sun hung low over downtown Boston, casting a golden haze across the cobblestone streets of the historic North End of Boston. The air carried the faint chill of early winter, sharp enough to pink the cheeks but not yet biting. Kimberly Williams was there among it all, her long red hair catching the light like polished copper as it spilled down her back in loose waves, occasionally lifted by the breeze off the Atlantic. The Woman Scorned wore faded dark jeans that had seen better days, scuffed brown leather boots that thudded softly against the uneven pavement, and a charcoal-gray hoodie layered under an open flannel shirt in deep green and black plaid. Tucked securely under one arm, clutched against her side like an old friend, was a large penguin plushie; her beloved friend and companion named Wasley. Suddenly she turns to face the camera. She tilts her head, eyes wide with a look of mischief that indicates she has some bad intentions. She waves playfully.

“Greetings, Kimmymaniacs! Now don’t be shy, ladies and germs, it’s just me, The Woman Scorned! The Queen of the Death Match! The psychopath who you had better be praying isn’t standing across from the ring against you come Fatal Fortunes!” She snickers nastily. “See, I love Fatal Fortunes! I really do! It sounds like a tarot card deck got drunk, crashed a casino, and woke up in a wrestling ring bleeding from places it didn’t know it had. Random opponents, random matches, random championships…although, I’ll be perfectly honest with you, if me and Wasley end up with another title match that’s not Underground we will both scream bloody murder!”

“What’s that, Wasley?” She puts the penguin up to her ear, as if listening to it. “Yes! Literally anything could happen on these magical nights called Fatal Fortunes! Singles! Tag Matches! Hardcore Matches! Cage Matches! Derek Adonis on a pole match! Lumberjack Matches! Anything could happen and we the wrestlers have no control over it! Zero! Nada! Zip! That fact alone drives everyone backstage mad! The entire roster is literally losing their minds over lack of control…” she scratches her chin, as if deep in thought “...control, it is but an illusion that humanity creates for itself, to make it feel safe. To make it feel comfortable. Chaos is reality, chaos is the truth that we do NOT have control over anything. All of the carefully laid plans of mice and men come apart oh so easily when chaos is introduced. And that is what Fatal Fortunes is all about…reminding the SCW faithful that chaos is the true ruler of the day. I can just think of what egomaniacs like Selena McFrosty, Gavin Taylor, The Vision, Syren, and just about everyone else must be asking themselves right now…”

“Who will I face?” Kim shrugs her shoulders. “What if I lose my title? What if the luck of the draw screws me over and ruins my carefully laid out plans?” Williams again laughs nastily. “Oh sweeties, I am the screw.” She straightens and starts laughing. “Heh, I said screw…” The Woman Scorned quickly regains her composure and while the laughter fades her sinister grin remains.

“You see, most of these people? They need structure. They need plans. They need contracts written in ink and matches written in pencil and safety nets stitched with a bow. Selena McFrosty needed her cutesy little contract and her control to wriggle her way back into power but look at where that got her? Ol’ Cid-Knee is still world champion and she is stuck with Xander as her bestie whether either of them like it or not. Gavin Taylor lost so much control that he went nuts and just invented his own contract that does absolutely nothing. As for that little fraudulent witch Syren, she may think she is protected because of the world title shot she earned by beating me at Shattered Reality, but no one is protected from Fatal Fortunes. No one is protected when you are drawn to face a lunatic fringe looking to make a statement at your expense, bitch, and I’m not just talking about me, there’s a lot of people on this roster who would love to embarrass you at Fatal Fortunes, or do worse, and you have ZERO CONTROL OVER IT! But as for yours truly?” She makes a cutting motion across her throat.

“I thrive when the plan dies. Chaos doesn’t scare me. Chaos and I are on a first name basis. Chaos lets me crash on the couch, steal its snacks, and borrow its favorite weapons. And sometimes… Chaos holds my earrings while I beat someone senseless. Fatal Fortunes isn’t a gamble for me. It’s a homecoming. So I don’t care who the draw spits out. Friend. Enemy. Champion. Rookie. Veteran who thinks I disrespect the sport. None of it matters.” She grins again, wild and crooked. “If my name comes up next to yours? Congrats. You just won the worst lottery of your life. Because every spin, every draw, every random little oopsie…” She snaps her fingers again.

“…leans in my favor. Fatal Fortunes is about chance and total anarchy. It is about chaos, unbridled chaos. And you are looking at the ONE TRUE Queen of Chaos! Accept NO substitutes! Can you control chaos? You are fooling yourself if you think so. If you think you can control ME you are absolutely delusional. These nights, Fatal Fortunes, they happened to land at the absolute right moment for yours truly. I came up short at Shattered Reality. I failed to stop Syren. But all that did was free me, it LIBERATED ME from having to focus on these god damn side quests idiots like CHBK keep throwing my way. I can return my focus to doing the ONE thing I do better than anyone else in this promotion and that is to spread chaos and anarchy.”

“Fatal Fortunes is my comfort zone, bitches. It is MY playground!” She holds up Wasley the penguin. “Me and Wasley are not pretending anymore. There is only one thing we want right now and that is to win back the SCW Underground Championship. It would make my millennium if Fatal Fortunes, the luck of the draw, smiled upon me and granted ME with the title shot that has thus far been unfairly denied me. But if not…” she smirks knowingly, she shrugs her shoulders “...c’est la vie! Whoever is standing across from me will get maimed! And if Just Some Loser is across from me I will take Just Some Television Title and maybe sell it on Ebay. If Deanna is across from me we will tear down the house and I will tear that newly won Adrenaline Title from her and fashion it into MY image. If the La Pequina Luz stands across from me with that United States Title, I will be the dark of her lightness and I will happily drive Gavin Taylor nuts with it. Hell, maybe me and Wasley will get a tag title match? Those Glimmer girls seem fun, even though they stole mine and my sister’s shtick!” She wags her finger at the camera. “Naughty”

“Or I could face the top guy himself. Cid Turner. Now while I really don’t want that world title right now, I have to admit the idea of me WINNING the world title at Fatal Fortunes, and thus jumping the line Syren thought she had so craftily jumped herself, would just make me absolutely happy! Me being World Champion would drive someone like Selena McFrosty insane and that would make me happy! The sheer number of chaotic scenarios I could create makes me one happy psychopath!” She pats herself on the chest.

“Fatal Fortunes is MY NIGHT! It was designed with someone as sick, twisted, and chaotic as ME in mind! It doesn’t matter to me who or what I am up against, whether I am at an advantage or a disadvantage, I look at all of this as an opportunity, an opportunity that I will seize, an opportunity to maim whoever is unlucky to draw the name of the Queen of the Death Match.”