David Striker vs. Kimberly Williams vs. Chris Lawler vs. Oskar Theron

[Kemal Yilmaz]

Number One Contendership for the SCW Underground Championship

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Saturday, March 21, 2026

[The Matt]

1 of 2
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March 14th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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Last Breakdown saw Kimberly Williams not only play her part and play as a member of her team, working with a woman she despises (namely Syren), but she also picked up the pin fall victory for her thrown together squad to defeat The European Fiery Nation. She made it clear that she was doing this to help her friend the SCW Adrenaline Champion Deanna Frost, not to help the SCW World Champion Syren. The Woman Scorned did her part and got the job done. Now she turns her attention to Retribution where she has the opportunity to take one step closer to recapturing the SCW Underground Championship for a record eighth time.

Breaking the record for most Underground Title wins, holding all to herself, was certainly an accomplishment she is proud of, but her two reigns in the Underground Gauntlet lasted just a few minutes. And she did not leave with the title. Asher Hayes did. The Queen of the Death Match still wants to win it back and have a lengthier reign with a title she feels that she elevated, that she helped make prestigious again. The first step before she can get to Asher will be to take down three individuals in an Underground war; David Striker, Oskar Theron, and Chris Lawler. This match will be nothing but chaos and chaos is the kind of environment The Woman Scorned thrives in. If everything works out the way it should, Kimberly Williams should leave London, England with a guaranteed one on one shot at the SCW Underground Title.

One step closer to her goal.

The Queen of the Death Match feels as if a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders in recent weeks. A large part of that is due to the fact that she finally broke the record for most Underground Title wins. She has erased all doubt as to who is the greatest Underground fighter in the long and storied history of the division. The other part of why that big weight has been lifted off of her back is the pressure she had been feeling dealing with a ghost from her past named Lucian Floreschu, brother of the sociopath who raised her and corrupted her. He had tried to corrupt her himself but thanks intervention from Angelica Jones, Kim’s mother, Lucian was taken care of in a very brutal way.

He was murdered. And as far as everyone is concerned, he isn’t missing, he isn’t dead, he just went back to Romania and has left Kimberly in charge of the Floreschu affairs. Now with Lucian gone and out of the way, Kimberly knows that she has to reset certain aspects of her life that he had tried to take control of and it begins with a visit to the office of real estate agent Kimberly Lambert; a woman Williams playfully calls “The Other Kim”.

Kimberly Lambert’s office carried the same quiet sense of order it always did, a space designed to make important decisions feel manageable and controlled. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows that overlooked a busy Boston street, though the glass softened the noise into a distant murmur. The room was warm without being cluttered. A broad wooden desk sat near the center, its polished surface reflecting the light in a soft glow. Everything on it had a place and a purpose, from the neatly stacked folders to the slim laptop positioned at a precise angle. Shelves lined one wall, filled with binders, property listings, and framed photographs of homes. A few decorative touches broke up the uniformity; a small potted plant near the window added a hint of life, its leaves catching the sunlight. A framed certificate hung just above the desk, positioned where it could be seen without feeling forced. Two chairs sat opposite the desk, upholstered in a muted gray fabric that looked both comfortable and restrained. Kimberly Williams was already inside, and she had managed to disrupt that carefully balanced atmosphere without touching a single object.

The Woman Scorned sat sideways in one of the chairs, one leg thrown casually over the armrest as though the furniture had been designed for her personal comfort rather than client etiquette. Her posture was loose, almost exaggerated in its lack of formality, as if she had made a conscious decision to reject every unspoken rule the room suggested. One elbow rested against the back of the chair while the other arm draped lazily across her lap. Her outfit matched her mood perfectly. She wore a loose black t shirt with a bold penguin image emblazoned across the front, the design loud and slightly absurd, paired with dark jeans that fit comfortably without any attempt at refinement. A worn hoodie hung open over the shirt, sleeves pushed up unevenly along her forearms. Her sneakers were scuffed and well loved, one foot tapping idly against the leg of the chair as though she could not quite contain her energy. Her red hair fell in its usual untamed waves, completely unconcerned with polish or symmetry. A few strands had fallen into her face, and she made no effort to move them. There was a brightness in her expression that had been missing for some time, a sharp, playful energy that seemed ready to spill over at any moment.

Clutched against her side, occupying nearly as much space as she did, was Wasley. The oversized penguin plushie looked wildly out of place in the office, its soft black and white body pressed against the neutral tones of the chair. Its bright orange feet dangled awkwardly over the edge, and its stitched smile seemed permanently delighted by its surroundings. A small tag near its wing still bore its name in thick, uneven lettering. Kimberly held onto it with an absent familiarity, occasionally adjusting it as though making sure it had the best possible view of the room. Every so often she leaned slightly toward it, as if sharing the experience in silent agreement. The presence of the plush toy transformed the office in an unexpected way, breaking through its carefully constructed professionalism with something unapologetically ridiculous and strangely charming.

“Don’t worry, Wasley, The Other Kim will be here any second now.” She says, speaking to the penguin plushie as if it were a living thing capable of talking back. And perhaps in her twisted mind, it is talking back? It certainly would appear that way.

“Yes, yes, I know that I have a very important match at Retribution. Not only is it to determine the number one contender for the SCW Underground Title but I get to maim three people!” She holds up three fingers. “Davey Crockett, Lawler Cutter, and Oskar The Grouch.” She puts Wasley up to her ear as if it is whispering advice to her. She shakes her head.

“Oh you worry too much, Wasley. I have been in multi-person fights like this before. Remember that gauntlet thing? I won the title twice! You won it too! And then there was my trios cash in which was very fun! Oh and Apocalypse a few years back I beat FOUR people to win back the SCW Underground Title. So trust me, Wasley, when I say that this is nothing new for the Queen of the Death Match.” Again she listens intently to the non-speaking Wasley. A sinister grin forms on her face.

“Yes, I will consider maiming The Other Kim if she is late…”

That isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. And it is almost as if the threat was heard because right as those words come out of her mouth is there movement from the door. The door to the office opened, and Kimberly Lambert stepped inside. This was the arrival of the person who owned this office space; real estate agent Kimberly Lambert; “The Other Kim” as The Woman Scorned liked to call her. She entered with the same composed confidence that defined her, carrying a leather portfolio tucked neatly under one arm. Her appearance was as polished as ever. She wore a fitted navy dress that fell cleanly to her knees, the fabric structured and elegant without drawing unnecessary attention. A light blazer rested over her shoulders, tailored to perfection, and her heels clicked softly against the floor as she moved further into the room. Her hair was styled neatly, pulled back in a way that kept her features clear and unobstructed. Subtle makeup highlighted her natural expression, lending her an air of calm authority that seemed entirely effortless.

For a brief moment, as her eyes adjusted to the scene before her, there was the faintest shift in her expression. Kimberly Williams, lounging sideways in the chair like she owned it, dressed in casual defiance, holding a large penguin plushie as though it were an expected part of the meeting. The contrast could not have been sharper.

“Oh, hello Ms. Williams…” she chuckles softly “...uh, make yourself at home.”

“Already did, Other Kim!” The Woman Scorned winks playfully.

The office itself seemed to hesitate, caught between two completely different energies. On one side stood order, precision, and quiet professionalism. On the other sat chaos wrapped in humor and unpredictability, a presence that refused to be contained by the rules of the room. Kimberly Williams grinned, the expression quick and unfiltered, her fingers absentmindedly squeezing Wasley’s soft side. The meeting had not even begun, and already the space felt different. Less controlled.

“Well I got your message.” Lambert says as she makes her way over to her desk and sits down. “You said you had something important to say about Lucian. Is Mr. Floreschu ok?”

“Oh no, not at all.” Kim says nonchalantly with a wide grin on her face. “He’s dead.”

“He’s…what…” Lambert blinks several times, looking on in confusion “...you’re joking right?”

“Of course I am!” Kim swings her legs over and sits up straight, still clutching Wasley close to her chest. “What am I, a maniac? Actually, don’t answer that.”

“Uh…”

“The truth is that Lucian went back to Romania.” Kimberly says, echoing the lie that she and her mother, Angelica Jones, fabricated after the secret murder of Lucian. “Which, y’know, is sorta like being dead.”

“I see.” Kim Lambert nods her head and, thankfully for Kimmy Williams, she seems to buy the story. “And what of the Lucian estate and all of its holdings?”

“Oh that stuff.” Kimberly grins from ear to ear. “He left me in charge of everything. Well, me and Wasley, because I don’t do anything without Wasley’s approval.”

“Wasley…” she points at the plushie “...the penguin?”

“Of course! Wasley is the real brains of this operation!” She holds the penguin plushie out towards the real estate agent. “Just ask him! He’s a genius!”

“Uh-huh…” she says, sounding very skeptical of it all “...so, with Mr. Floreschu back in Romania, leaving you in charge, I assume that we are going to return to your original…ahem…business plan?”

“Yep!” Kim nods her head enthusiastically. “I know Lucian…and you…both wanted to sell upscale homes to wealthy snobs but that was never what I wanted to do. Look at me; do I look like a wealthy snob to you?” She shakes her head. “I may have tons of money but I refuse to live like that and I refuse to let that wealth and power go to my head. I refuse to use it just to make my life more comfortable when I know there are tons of people out there, very needy people, who could use a leg up.”

“Well I suppose that means these brilliantly lovely new homes I found…”

“We can still buy them.” The Woman Scorned says, nodding her head. “But we’re going to rent them out to needy people, to the poor, at a cheap rate.”

“If that’s really what you want to do…”

“It is and I’m the boss so what I say goes.” She pauses momentarily. “Actually, Wasley is the boss. You can’t tell because he’s not wearing his tie. It’s a great tie for a penguin; it looks like a fish. I told him to wear it but he wouldn’t listen to me. You should always dress nice for a business meeting!”

This declaration is rather ridiculous coming from Kimberly Williams, who is definitely NOT dressed for a typical business meeting. Kimberly Lambert has come to expect this kind of bizarre, eccentric behavior from The Queen of the Death Match and just ignores it.

“So, that being said, there is another item I want to discuss…”

“Yes?”

“The Floreschu Estate.” Lambert begins. “Do you and your boyfriend still plan to live there?”

“Me? Live in that ridiculous place?” She shakes her head. “Hell no!”

“But Kimberly…”

“Were you not listening to anything I said, The Other Kim? I hate this idea that just because you are wealthy you must always pamper yourself. My mom and my sisters may enjoy the life of luxury but not me. I never did and I never will.”

“But Lucian…”

“He was wrong about me.” Williams states bluntly. “That is not who I am. And quite honestly, the best thing that could happen is to demolish The Floreschu Estate.”

“Demolish it?!” Lambert’s eyes grow wide. “You can’t!”

“Sure I can!” Kim grins from ear to ear. “All it takes is a great big crane with a wrecking ball. They made a song named wrecking ball, you know? Oh, or maybe dynamite! Supposedly coyotes are good at getting their paws on dynamite…”

“But that mansion, the grounds, it’s so gorgeous and beautiful…” Lambert begins, seemingly getting teary eyed at the thought of the large mansion being leveled. Kimberly, however, has zero good memories of the place. The quicker she can get it demolished the better.

“It’s nothing but an eyesore.” Kim snickers. “Also it’s MY eyesore and if I want to demolish it, then I can.”

“I know you can, Kimmy, but…” she shifts uncomfortably in her chair “...but it’s just a shame to see such a big, gorgeous estate get demolished like that when it can be put to good use.”

“Good use, huh?” Kim scoffs, sounding skeptical, but nevertheless she leans forward and even places Wasley the penguin plushie in a good spot, as if it needed to hear what the real estate agent has to say. “Well let’s hear it, Other Kim. Me and Wasley are all ears!”

“Well you’re kind of putting me on the spot.” Lambert chuckles uneasily. “I don’t have any ideas right off hand but you, Ms. Williams, have one of the most…uh…creative minds I have ever come in contact with.”

“Kissing my ass will get you everywhere.”

“Yes, well, as I was saying…certainly your creative mind can come up with some way to use the mansion and its grounds if you are not going to live in it yourself.”

“Oh I get where you’re going.” Williams snickers knowingly. “You want me to let you sell it, eh? I’m sure you would make a fortune selling that bad boy!”

“Well if you insist…”

“Nope!” Kim puts that plan to a halt dead in its tracks. “You are right, Other Kim, I do have a creative mind! And I do have some brilliant ideas of how I can put that ugly ass eyesore to good use!”

“You do?!” Lambert sounds rather surprised that The Woman Scorned came up with an idea that quickly. She is almost afraid to ask what her ideas are.

“For starters we can turn the east wing into a hamster sanctuary.”

“Hamer sanctuary?”

“You don’t have to repeat everything I say.” Kim points out bluntly. “But yes, a hamster sanctuary, in honor of my beloved pal Caligula. He’s a hamster, by the way.”

“I kind of figured…”

“The west wing can be turned into a penguin sanctuary! In honor of…guess who…” she holds up Wasley the penguin plushie “...WASLEY!”

“So you want to turn the mansion…the gorgeous Floreschu estate…into a hamster sanctuary and a penguin sanctuary…” Lambert stares at The Woman Scorned with disbelief. Kim just nods her head.

“And that’s not all. All of the bedrooms…and there are a TON of bedrooms in that place. Like, seriously, did Lucian expect me to form some kinda freaky harem or something?” Kim shakes her head. “Anyway, those bedrooms can be used as temporary housing for the homeless.”

“Oh God…” Lambert sighs and shakes her head.

“I take it you don’t like my ideas?” Williams feigns sadness and disappointment. “I mean, you said I have a great creative mind. But if those ideas aren’t good enough I suppose I could just demolish the place like I originally planned…”

“No!” Lambert shakes her head. She still cannot stand to see the gorgeous mansion get leveled. The greed factors in too, she cannot just forget about potentially selling it if and when Kimberly grows bored of using it as her own personal plaything. “Your ideas are….unique…”

“Great!” Kim snickers. “And how about we kick things off with a formal grand opening?”

“That sounds reasonable.” The idea of a formal party certainly appeals to the real estate agent. Unfortunately she has no idea what Kimberly Williams’s idea of ‘formal’ is…

“A PAJAMA BALL!”

“...what?”

“You heard me.” Kim repeats herself. “A Pajama Ball. Everyone wears their pajamas. It’ll be great. I won a battle royal a couple years ago to become number one contender to the SCW World Title and all of us were wearing onesies. So tell me a pajama ball can’t work out.” She leans forward. “No, seriously, tell me it won’t work out. I want an excuse to demolish the place.”

“Uh, no…” Lambert smiles “...it sounds like fun.”

“Oh it will be fun.” She hops up off of the chair with Wasley clutched close to her chest. “Speaking of fun, I gotta bolt. I have some dastardly plans.”

“Dastardly…”

“There you go repeating things again.” Kim wags her finger at her, like a parent scolding a child. “It’s just me and my wrestling stuff. I got a chance to maim three people in an Underground Contenders Match. And trust me on this, Other Kim…NO ONE keeps me away from my precious SCW Underground Championship…” she laughs nastily “...no one…”

Williams turns, with Wasley in hand, and skips away happily. That’s one issue taken care of. Now Retribution looms over the horizon and an opportunity to take one step closer towards becoming an eight time SCW Underground Champion if she can get through the likes of Striker, Theron, and Lawler.

[PhantomTroupe]

(Striker) Dire Straits-"March of the Pigs"

[The Matt]

2 of 2
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March 16th, 2026
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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Angelica Jones’s living room was grand and deeply confident in its own beauty. The ceilings soared high above, framed by intricate molding that caught the afternoon light and turned every edge soft and elegant. Tall windows reached nearly from floor to ceiling, dressed in rich drapery that pooled perfectly onto polished hardwood floors. Sunlight poured through the glass in long golden stretches, warming the pale walls and glinting off antique mirrors, brass accents, and the crystal droplets of an enormous chandelier suspended overhead. Everything in the room had clearly been chosen with care. A long cream colored sofa curved gracefully near the center, flanked by two carved armchairs upholstered in pale blue silk. A massive Persian rug anchored the seating area, its pattern so intricate and layered it seemed almost a shame to step on it. A marble fireplace dominated one wall, the mantle arranged with porcelain vases, framed family photographs, and a clock that looked as though it had measured time in that house for decades. Even the books placed on the side tables looked intentional, their bindings handsome and expensive, their arrangement just imperfect enough to suggest taste without trying too hard. The whole room carried the scent of polish, fresh flowers, and faint perfume. It was the kind of scent that clung to houses where nothing was ever truly out of place for long. Even the quiet felt refined. The ticking of the mantle clock and the occasional rustle of curtains in the filtered breeze somehow made the room feel even more expensive. And in the middle of all that careful elegance, Kimberly Williams looked like a dropped wrench in a jewelry box.

Being here reminded her eerily of the Floreschu Estate that she had inherited, that she had once planned to demolish but had been talked out of by real estate agent Kimberly Lambert. The Floreschu Estate creates uneasy feelings due to the past memories, but this is her mother’s home. Despite looking out of place, The Woman Scorned feels completely at ease. She was deeply, unmistakably relaxed, sprawled in a way that suggested she had been there long enough to forget or simply reject any expectation of decorum. One arm was slung across the back of the sofa, one leg bent up slightly beneath her, the other stretched forward just enough to communicate that she had no intention of making herself smaller for the sake of appearances. Kimberly wore a faded charcoal t shirt with a Wasley penguin image on the front. Her jeans were loose and comfortably worn, broken in at the knees and creased in all the usual places, the sort of jeans that had been chosen for ease rather than style. On her feet were battered sneakers with scuffed toes.

A few feet away, Angelica Jones sat in one of the armchairs with the effortless poise of a woman who could have been painted into the room and looked perfectly natural there. She wore an elegant blouse of soft ivory silk, the fabric luminous in the afternoon light, tucked neatly into a tailored skirt in a deep muted rose that fell with impeccable structure. The cut of everything she wore was classic and flattering without ever appearing fussy. A string of pearls rested at her throat, understated and timeless, and small matching earrings caught the light when she turned her head. Her shoes were tasteful, refined, and utterly unsuited to the kind of life Kimberly seemed to prefer. Even the way she sat contrasted sharply with her daughter. Angelica’s posture was flawless without seeming forced. One hand rested lightly against the arm of the chair, the other in her lap, every movement measured and graceful. She looked composed in the deepest sense of the word, as though composure was not something she adopted but something she was.

“Well Kimmy, I hope you’re happy. It took a lot of negotiating, posturing…”

“Politicking?” Kim asks playfully.

“Yes…that…” she sighs “...but hopefully you won’t have any problems with Mr. Delatosso again. Also you are in a contender’s match at Retribution where you can earn a shot at the SCW Underground Championship.”

“Yep! That’s the most important thing to me right there!” Kim’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Getting my precious back is priority number one!”

“I just need you to guarantee me that you will continue to play by the rules going forward.” Angelica states bluntly. Kim feigns shock, shock that her mother would accuse her.

“Oh dear, mother!” Kim exclaims. “How could you even imply that I wouldn’t play by the rules?”

“You have a reputation.”

“One that I am damn proud of!” Kim winks. “But hey, I have been playing by the rules. I didn’t maim Franky Boy even though I wanted to; I didn’t screw over Syren in the six person tag even though I really wanted to…hell, I picked up the win for our team in that one!”

“I saw.” Angelica nods her head. “I liked that and you need to keep that up. More big wins like that one will give me more leverage to negotiate more opportunities for you above and beyond the Underground.”

“Blah, blah, blah!” Kim says, rolling her eyes. “All I am focused on right now is getting back the Underground Title. That means going through Davey Crockett, Lawler Cutter, and Oskar The Grouch.” The Woman Scorned swings her legs over the side of the sofa, sitting up normally for the first time since her arrival. “Now tell me, mommy, did you want me to visit you just to talk shop or did you have some sort of ulterior motive?”

“I had HOPED that we could talk about SCW business. Navigating the waters with CHBK and Delatosso butting heads will be treacherous going forward…”

“Good.” Kim smirks. “I love treachery. It’s my middle name. Actually it’s Frances but still…”

“Kim…”

What?”

“There is another issue we need to talk about.” Angelica pauses momentarily. “The Floreschu Estate.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“I heard you decided to keep it around.” Angelica shakes her head. “I won’t pretend that I like the idea because I don’t. I think your original idea of demolishing it was the better idea.”

“Oh you worry too much!” Kim exclaims with a playful grin. “You and I did too good a job hiding Lucian’s body. No one will find that snobbish con-artist piggy who tried to ruin my life. And the evidence Lucian had against me that he was using to blackmail me? It’s all gone. And before his ultimately demise, Lucian himself transferred control of the estate to me. We’re in the clear, mom. There’s nothing in that place that can point suspicion in our direction. I am free to do whatever the hell I want with it and, since everything near and dear to the Floreschu family name is right there, I figured why not use it to make a complete and utter mockery of them?”

“You don’t get it, Kimmy.” Angelica shakes her head. “I’m not worried about any of Lucian’s blackmail, I’m not worried about anyone finding him, I’m not worried about what we did coming back to bite us.” Jones points a finger at her daughter. “I am concerned about the memories contained within that place and what they could do to you.”

“Wait, you think I’m traumatized? You think I might have PTSD?” Kim snickers.

“Well…”

“C’mon, mommy! Give me more credit than that!” Kim chuckles. “You know me, I’m too crazy to be haunted by my past! Besides, The Other Kim insisted that I keep it.”

“The Other Kim?” Angelica furrows her brow. “You mean your real estate agent?”

“Yes, her.” The Woman Scorned nods her head. “She was sooooo bent out of shape over my plans to demolish it that she practically begged me to let my imagination run wild with ideas for the place. So yeah…I’m going to use the bedrooms for temporary housing for the homeless.”

“That’s a very noble thing for you to do.” Angelica says with a warm smile on her face.

“Yeah…and I’m also gonna build a hamster sanctuary in honor of Caligula and a penguin sanctuary in honor of Wasley!”

“Right…” Angelica sighs “...that sounds lovely…”

“See? I know what I’m doing.”

“I hope you do.” Angelica says. “But let’s forget about that for now…Retribution is up next and I know how badly you want the Underground Title back. You can become number one contender and guarantee a one on one opportunity. You have to take advantage of this, Kimmy. You never know how many more opportunities like this you will get.”

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March 20th, 2026
London, England
On Camera
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Kimberly Williams stood just outside Wembley Arena with her beloved pal Wasley tucked close against her chest, one hand curled protectively around the little penguin plushie as if the toy had as much business being there as she did. The arena rose behind her in sweeping silver curves, massive and cold and unmistakably important. The wide concourse outside stretched around Kimberly in clean open space, broken by barriers, signage, and the steady movement of people whose presence made everything feel busier without quite becoming crowded. There was a constant sense of motion in the air. Workers moved with purpose. Distant voices rose and fell. Footsteps skimmed over the pavement. Wembley was grand, polished, and built to impress. Kimberly, by contrast, was built for chaos. The Woman Scorned was wearing torn denim jeans, black boots, a black SCW t shirt, and a black hooded leather jacket. A chaotic, devilish grin is etched across her lovely features.

“Hello, London! You have a monarchy, right? Well time to roll out your royal red carpets for the one true Queen of Chaos, the one true Queen of the Death Match, Kimberly Williams of House Jones, FIRST OF HER NAME!” She winks playfully. “Sorry, got a little George RR Martin there for a bit…” she waves at the camera.

“And hello SCW Underground Division! Mommy is back!” Kimmy throws her head back and laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right, I let The Monster Machine and Colleen fight over MY championship while I dipped my toes into The Shot of Adrenaline Tournament. I had my fun but once that was over I knew it was time to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I knew it was time for me to make a statement at the expense of anyone dumb enough to step up to The Queen of the Death Match. I knew it was time to return to my world and reclaim my throne. See, from the very moment this division was resurrected in 2021, I was the one who was crazy enough, insane enough, to leap head first into the ultra violence, into the chaos, and make it my own. From 2021 until today it had been ME and ME ALONE who elevated this division not only back to its former glory but to even greater prominence than before. Who was the lunatic who managed to get the Underground Championship into a title for title winner take all match on a pay per view main event stage? That was me. Who used the Underground Title, its rules, and a Trios Contract to create the most chaotic upheaval in the history of SCW? That was me. Oh and by the way, who currently holds the record for the most Underground Title wins in the history of the division at seven?” Williams pats herself on the chest.

“Yep, that’s me! So hell, let’s go full on Westeros here and add yet another moniker; Queen of Chaos, Queen of the Death Match, and you damn right I am the Queen of the Underground. Asher Hayes may currently hold my property but he is on borrowed time. Mommy is back to reclaim her throne and everything begins right here in this great building behind me, Wembley Arena, where all of my English Kimmymaniacs will gather to watch me maim three unlucky souls who drew the short straw to have to face me at Retribution in an environment where I thrive, in a division that I literally own.”

“See, I take great pride in everything that I have accomplished in the Underground Division and that is why I want that championship back. That’s why I NEED to win the Underground Title for an eighth time. I have so much more I can accomplish in the division. I can still elevate the title to even greater heights. During my reign over the Underground you can look back at the people I have gone to war with…names like Konrad Raab…or as I like to call him, Oktoberfest.” She smirks devilishly as she points at the camera. “You remember him, don’t you Oskar The Grouch? Ol’ Oktoberfest never cared much for titles except for the Underground. That’s why I liked him. He saw the same value in the Underground that I did. Now you and your European Fiery Fiends threw down on Breakdown and yeah, I knocked ya’lls lights out, but that’s our love language isn’t it? Violence is our love language Oskar The Grouch, and believe me when I say that you can expect oh so much more love coming your way at Retribution. Love as in barbed wire, staple guns, maybe even Betty White will make an appearance? Love as in I will maim you, I will make you bleed, and I will put you down because respect or not I will NOT let you stop me from getting back what is mine. And, respectfully, all you are right now is an obstacle in my way, Oskar. So step up to the Queen and I will make you kneel.”

“Another name I went to war with in this division is David Striker.” She playfully waves at the camera. “Hi there, Davey Boy Crockett! We meet again! Do you recall our trilogy of Underground Matches we had?” A sinister grin forms on her face. “I know I do. Those matches were three of the most beautifully violent gore fests that I have ever been involved with. I would like to think that you and I TOGETHER helped elevate the Underground Division with those three matches. You and I helped put the Underground Division on the map with that trilogy. I don’t often give others credit for helping with MY division, so yeah, there’s definitely some respect there too.” Williams shakes her head.

“Ah but just like I told Oskar The Grouch, you are standing in my way and I cannot let that happen. The Underground Title NEEDS Kimberly Williams. The Underground Division NEEDS its Queen and I cannot and will not let the Underground Division down. We will create much more glorious carnage and chaos together, Davey Crockett, but just like the past, I will be the one left standing.”

“What I CAN say about you and Oskar The Grouch is that at least you two are in this for the right reasons. You believe in the Underground. You believe in hardcore and what it stands for. You believe in embracing the chaos and the violence that this division represents.” Williams holds up one finger. “There is ONE person in this match that I am not sure that I can say the same thing about…” she points at the camera.

“That’d be your, Christopher Lawler Cutter.” She snickers knowingly. “I am a lunatic, I am insane, I won’t deny of that, but while I may be crazy it doesn’t mean I’m stupid. It doesn’t mean that I do not do my homework. I always do my research on each and every opponent that decides to step up to face me. So yeah, I know you, Christopher, and I can see what’s been going on since your return to SCW. What I see is desperation; a desperate attempt to prove that you still belong, to prove that you are still capable of beating the best and most importantly of being a champion in this company. I wish I could say that I felt your pain but I don’t. I do not need to prove myself to anyone. My seven Underground Title victories prove that I belong in this division. The fact that I am a former United States, Adrenaline, and Television Champion also proves that I can MAT WRESTLE with the best of them, despite what certain CEOs and idiot commentators may think. I am confident in my own skin and I do not need to prove myself to anyone.” She sighs and shakes her head.

“Sadly enough you feel as if you do need validation. You feel as if you do need to prove yourself. The only proof you can find is in championship gold. You have tried your hand in damn near every championship chase since your return. You finally struck gold with the Underground Title. But how did you do it?” She grins knowingly. “In CHBK’s Underground Gauntlet.”

“Now I’m not faulting you for taking advantage of it. Hell, me and Davey Boy Striker took advantage of it. But for us…and yes, even Oskar The Grouch…the Underground Division is a lifestyle. Chaos is a way of life. For you? The Underground Division seems to be as just a fallback. Since I can’t win anywhere else, let’s try my hand at the Underground Division.” Williams sneers.

“You can try to prove yourself but if you want to do so by winning the Underground Title then you first have to go through me. First you have to prove that you belong in MY Underground Division by surviving the kind of carnage and mayhem that only I can bring to the table. You don’t get to enter my world just by simply opening a door and stepping on across the threshold. You will be tired by fire until proven you are worthy. Just as David Striker. He had to prove himself worthy and we took each other to hell and back for three matches. Just as Oskar The Grouch. They will tell you what kind of violence and chaos you can expect from me at Retribution.”

“What NONE of you should expect is victory.” Kimberly shakes her head. “Lawler might prove himself. Oskar The Grouch might prove himself. David Striker might prove himself. But at the end of the day none of you will be victorious because you three are standing between me and MY Underground Title, which means if I have to put all three of you in the ground at Retribution then so be it.”