The Vision vs. The Shinigami Foundation

[Kemal Yilmaz]

Fiona Logan & Melinda Braddock vs. Alex Belmont & Wil Pierce

4 RP Limit for tag

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET FRIDAY, February 27, 2026 (Show will act as if taking place on Saturday, February 28)

[The Assassin]

1 of 2
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February 19th, 2026
Cleveland, Ohio
Off Camera
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The noise of SCW Breakdown had finally begun to fade, but it had not disappeared completely. It lingered in the walls of the Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse, caught somewhere in the steel beams and concrete corridors that had absorbed thousands of voices only an hour earlier. Backstage felt different after a show ended. The urgency was gone, replaced by a strange combination of exhaustion and restless energy. The air carried the mixed scents of sweat, athletic tape, hairspray, and the faint metallic trace that always seemed to accompany a wrestling ring after battle. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a pale, unforgiving glow.

Melinda Braddock stood near a long production table pushed against the wall, her posture composed despite the physical toll of the night. She was still dressed in her ring attire, though she had made small adjustments to restore a sense of polish. Her gear leaned toward elegance even in combat. The fabric was sleek and carefully tailored, hugging her frame with precision. The color caught the light subtly, refined rather than flashy, giving her an air of sophistication that contrasted with the brutality of what she had just endured in the ring. Fine detailing traced the edges of the material, delicate but intentional, reinforcing the sense that everything about her presentation was curated. Her boots, laced tightly to just below her knees, were scuffed now from the match, the pristine finish dulled by contact with canvas and opponent alike. A faint sheen of perspiration still touched her skin, though she had brushed her almost platinum blonde hair back into place. Strands framed her face in controlled softness, and even under harsh backstage lighting she carried herself with the same measured grace that defined her presence in the spotlight. There was fatigue in her eyes, but it was contained, filed neatly behind discipline.

Fiona Logan stood a few feet away, leaning against a concrete wall with one shoulder pressed back as though she needed something solid to brace against. Her ring gear told a different story. It carried a harder edge, darker tones and sharper lines that emphasized power over refinement. The material was functional and resilient, built to endure impact rather than present elegance. Subtle wear from the match was more obvious on her, faint streaks and creases marking where the fight had taken its toll. Her boots were heavier, designed for force, their soles leaving faint marks on the floor as she shifted her weight. Her black hair had come partially loose during the match and now fell around her shoulders in uneven strands, framing a face that had not yet relaxed from competition. There was tension still coiled in her posture, the adrenaline not fully drained. Her hands flexed once at her sides, as though replaying moments in her mind. Even in stillness, she radiated intensity.

Clyde Sutter stood slightly apart from both women, near a stack of production crates that had been pushed against the far wall. His presence was quiet but commanding. He too remained in his ring gear, though he had removed any extraneous layers. The attire was dark and deliberate, clean lines accentuating his well built frame. His boots were planted firmly on the concrete floor, laces tight, leather dulled by the night’s contest. His long black hair hung loose now, no longer secured for battle, strands resting against his shoulders. A faint bruise had begun to form along his jawline, and there were subtle signs of strain in the way he held himself, but his expression remained composed. Stoic. Controlled. His breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm, the storm of the match reduced to quiet reflection. He did not pace or fidget. He simply observed, eyes steady, taking in the aftermath.

The corridor around them felt both crowded and isolating. Voices echoed in the distance, laughter from one direction, frustration from another. A rolling equipment case clattered briefly over uneven flooring before disappearing around a corner. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed shut, the sharp sound cutting through the ambient hum before fading again.

“Well that was a particularly chaotic waste of time…” Fiona says, her voice trailing off, but it is clear that The Boston Badass is very disappointed in her own performance, as well as the performance of her companions Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter, at tonight’s Breakdown. It was a unique opportunity for one of them to leave as the SCW Underground Champion. The three of them worked together as a unit and yet not once did any of them win the title.

Not even one singular reign to their name.

The Boston Badass values results and results, for her, means victories and championship gold. Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter, on the other hand, seem to be not very bothered by the events of the evening. Then again, The Third Generation Goddess and The Harbinger of Fate would not be bothered. They put all of their trust in Fate. If the Underground Title was not meant to be then it was simply not meant to be.

“Melinda, you must learn patience. Other opportunities will come.”

“Oh yeah? And when? When will these opportunities come?”

“In due time.” Clyde answers. “Fate has the answers, we merely do its will.”

“Ok, guys, I love you both, but I’m sick of all this fatalism crap.” Fiona rolls her eyes. “Seriously, look at us, we are the MWCW Tag Team Champions and MWA World Tag Team Champions. We are an actual proven tag team. But who are the reigning champs? Selena Frost and Xander Valentine, two idiots who can’t even get along! They aren’t a tag team. They are a circus thrown together for the entertainment of CHBK.” She motions to herself and Melinda. “WE should be tag champs, not them.”

“Fiona…”

“And another thing!” Fiona continues, ignoring Melinda. “You talk of opportunities, right? Why are those glorified strippers who don’t even work here getting Underground Title opportunities? The Order of the Chest? Seriously?” Fiona sighs out of frustration. “Like I said, WE ARE the only real tag team in this division.”

Melinda Braddock smiles, one that almost seems to articulate pity. She approaches Fiona and places a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder.

“Fiona, my dear, I know you desire success, fame, and championships. But look at how quickly you have had earned success in professional wrestling; you were not born into this business as I was and yet your championship resume matches mine already. You are currently a double champion like me. And I know we could have had so much more if tonight had gone differently, but I remind you that you must have patient and trust in Fate.”

“There’s that word again…” Fiona sighs “...Fate…”

“Yes, Fate. Fate is already at work and has designs for The Vision.” Melinda remarks. Fiona arches a brow out of curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“Next Breakdown.” She smirks. “You and I will face The Shinigami Foundation. It will be yet another opportunity to prove our worth in the eyes of the powers that be and, perhaps, earn a shot at the SCW World Tag Team Championship.”

“We shouldn’t have to PROVE ourselves to anyone.” Fiona scoffs. But then she pauses and a smirk forms on her face. “But y’know, if it means taking my frustrations out on a couple of dweebs by cracking their skulls wide open? I’ll take it!”

“I knew that would cheer you up.” Melinda chuckles as she pats Fiona on the back.

The Boston Badass does appear to be slightly happier now that the news of The Vision’s match against The Shinigami Foundation was revealed. Fiona enjoys the thrill of the fight. The news that she is scheduled to compete has indeed lifted her spirits. Then she hears her phone vibrating. Fiona pulls it out and looks at it. Fiona sighs.

“Crap…”

“What is it?” Melinda asks.

“It’s Todd.” Fiona says, referring to Todd Osbourne, her former foster father. “He’s still trying to contact me. I’m just gonna block his number…”

Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter exchange a look and then turn to look back at Fiona. Both have been concerned for Fiona ever since Todd Osbourne returned. Fiona had been tormented by who everyone thought was a stalker but it turned out to be Todd Osbourne, Fiona’s former foster father who had manipulated and used her as a child, forced her into modeling to take advantage of her beauty and make money off of her. Now Todd is back, claiming he has changed, claiming he wants a relationship with his ‘daughter’ but Fiona is having none of it. To be honest, Fiona has been distracted ever since his return and Melinda and Clyde both cannot help but notice.

“Fiona? Are you ok?” Melinda asks.

“No…” she shakes her head as she puts the phone away “...honestly, my natural reaction towards him is hatred. Anger.”

“I can understand.”

“No, Mels, you don’t.” Fiona says, shaking her head. “He used and manipulated me. He never cared for me, he never loved me. He only saw dollar signs. Part of me wants him to leave and never be a part of my life again.” She sighs. “But another part of me does believe in second chances and, y’know, maybe Todd does deserve a second chance?”

“I agree with you.” Melinda nods her head. “People are entitled to a second chance but only if they can prove that they have changed. Take my own experiences; my biological father ran out on my mother after she became pregnant with me, forcing her to raise me alone. Both mother and I were enraged with him and when he returned to our lives, neither wanted to give him a chance.”

“And?”

“And he proved us wrong.” Melinda states. “He stepped up and helped both of us when we needed it. He was never demanding, never forceful, he just did everything he could to prove that he was ready to step up and be the father he always should have been. Now my father, my biological father that is, is a very important part of my life.”

“Sure, yeah, great, that’s a nice fairy tale there, Mels,” Fiona’s voice drips with sarcasm “but how the hell can I make Todd prove himself to me?”

“It could be simpler than you think.” Melinda answers. “Just give him a chance. Meet him someplace, public obviously, or just talk to him on the phone or by text message. Whatever or however you decide, just make sure you hear what he has to say before jumping to any conclusions about Todd.”

“You really think that’s all I need to do?”

“What could it hurt?” Melinda asks. “It might be the very thing that makes him go away.”

“Yeah?” Fiona smirks. “Well that’s all I really want; him to go away and leave me alone.”

“Ahem, if I may chime in,” Clyde remarks, stepping forward to get the attention of Fiona and Melinda “as much as I hate disagreeing with my beloved, I fear I must disagree with her on this particular subject.”

“What is it, Clyde?” Melinda asks.

“Yeah, you think contacting Todd is a bad idea?” Fiona asks.

“My beloved argued based on her own family experiences, so I shall argue based on my own.” Sutter begins. “I only recently began learning about my own past about my biological father.” He casts a knowing gaze at Melinda and then back at Fiona. “And as my love will confirm, some of the information I have learned about my family is rather…disturbing.”

“Disturbing?” Fiona asks. Clyde nods his head. “So, uh, what are you trying to say, big guy?”

“Clyde, it might help her to confront her past.”

“True.” Sutter says. “I am not denying that. I am merely saying that sometimes ignorance is bliss. Ignorance would have been bliss in my case. I wish I could still have been ignorant of my past. Perhaps ignorance should be bliss for Fiona?”

[Thunderhorse]

(The Foundation) "Dire Straits" pt 4

OOC Warning: Okay...horrible use of puns at the expense of Super Mario Brothers, sudden appearance of Bojangles food, and references to various bits on last week's Breakdown.

Ya'll have been warned by the order of the Peaky Blinders Copyright Monkeys....fair?

[The Assassin]

2 of 2
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February 21st, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The basement of the Braddock family home in Miami felt less like a recreational space and more like a private training facility carved out beneath polished domestic life. Overhead lighting was bright and deliberate, leaving no corner in shadow, every inch of the workout area exposed and purposeful. The ceiling was lower than the rest of the house, but it did not feel cramped. It felt contained, insulated from distraction. This was a place built for discipline. One half of the basement was lined with strength equipment. A squat rack stood anchored against the far wall, its steel frame scarred slightly from years of plates sliding on and off. Barbells rested on hooks at different heights, collars stacked neatly on a nearby shelf. Dumbbells were arranged in ascending order along a long rack, their handles worn smooth from use. A heavy bench sat at the center of the space, its padding firm and practical. Nearby, resistance bands hung from mounted hooks, and a thick battle rope lay coiled. The other half of the basement was cleared for movement. Thick black mats covered the ground, absorbing impact and softening falls. A large mirror stretched across one wall, reflecting every motion back without mercy. A digital timer glowed faintly on a shelf, its red numbers paused for the moment. In the corner, a small refrigerator hummed quietly, stocked with water and recovery drinks, and a whiteboard mounted above it was filled with handwritten notes and conditioning drills.

Kurt Logan stood near the center of the mat, arms folded across his chest as he observed. He wore a fitted athletic shirt that clung to his torso, darkened slightly at the collar from exertion. The fabric was practical and breathable, designed to move with him rather than restrict him. His training shorts fell just above the knee, durable and simple, paired with worn but well maintained training shoes that had seen countless sessions on these mats. Even at rest, there was something solid about him. His posture was relaxed but ready, like someone who had spent a lifetime preparing both body and mind for conflict. There was a presence to him that went beyond physicality. As Melinda’s step father and Fiona’s adoptive father, he carried the authority of someone who had earned their trust through action rather than words. His arms were marked faintly with the history of his own battles, small scars and the subtle thickening of skin that came from years in the ring. His eyes were sharp, tracking every movement with focus that felt both protective and demanding.

Melinda Braddock stood a few feet in front of him, stretching her arms overhead before rolling her shoulders back. She was dressed in fitted training leggings that sculpted her movements cleanly, the fabric smooth and high quality, designed for both flexibility and support. The color was refined and understated, complementing the controlled elegance she carried even in preparation. Her athletic top was equally tailored, supportive and sleek, allowing freedom through her shoulders and arms. It emphasized her strength without sacrificing the femininity that defined her presence. Her almost platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a secure ponytail. Her training shoes were clean and structured, soles built for grip against the mats. Fiona Logan stood nearby, finishing the wrap on her wrists. Her attire leaned more toward raw function. She wore dark compression shorts paired with a sleeveless athletic top that allowed her arms to move freely. The material was thicker, built to endure friction and strain. Her black hair was tied back tightly, secured high and firm. Her footwear was practical and slightly worn. The laces were pulled tight, her stance grounded and steady.

“Before we begin can I say how happy that I am to see you girls?”

“You may.” Melinda says, smiling warmly. Despite the recent tensions between her and her mother, Kurt’s wife Glory Braddock, Melinda has always gotten along well with Kurt. Fiona has always loved Kurt, too. It is why she took his last name after adoption.

“Well I am happy to see you both.” He sighs. “And as much as I know your mother would love to see you, I made sure to schedule this for when she would be very busy.”

“We appreciate it.” Fiona chimes in. “Glory’s great and all, but we need to win this match and we cannot afford her drama.”

“Indeed.” Melinda nods her head. “Drama is the last thing we need and I am certain mother would no doubt create more of it.”

“Right then,” Kurt sighs “so these guys you’re facing…tell me everything you know about them.”

“Wil Pierce and Alex Belmont.” Melinda says. “The Shinigami Foundation. Both of them have trained in pretty much any and every style. They can do it all. They are former SCW World Tag Team Champions.”

“Huh,” Kurt arches his brow “well the GOOD news is that beating them would really boost your status in the SCW tag team division.”

“Boost our status?” Fiona snaps. “Hell, we should already BE tag champs! The Glimmers cheated us! And those hollyweirdos got a title shot but not us?! Hell, we shouldn’t even have to go through the red tape of beating Wil and Alex!”

“Patience, Fiona.” Melinda says, placing a hand on her shoulder. Kurt chuckles and nods his head in response.

“Melinda is right, you need to calm down. In this business a win is a win and a loss is a loss no matter how it happens. It’s tough, it’s a bitter pill to swallow, but you have to deal with it. But like I said, beating The Shinigami Foundation will massively help you make your case for another shot at those tag team titles. That’s the good news.”

“The bad news?” Melinda asks.

“Sounds like you two are evenly matched.” Kurt points out. “Your mom and I taught to hold your own in just about any style. Granted you have your own individual strengths, Melinda yours being submission and Fiona yours being your power, but there’s no doubt that you can do it all, just like Wil and Alex. So I won’t lie to you, this match will be difficult.”

“But can we win?” Fiona asks.

“Are you kidding?” He smirks. “Of course you can. I have no doubt that you’ll be the ones walking away with the dub. Just stay focused and keep your eyes on the prize, that is lesson number one today. If you remain focused, you will be set.”

“Great, focus,” Fiona shakes her head out of frustration “that’s just the problem…”

“Oh?” Kurt tilts his head to one side, studying his agitated adopted daughter carefully. “Something going on that I should know about?”

“Nothing important, dad.” Melinda insists as she lies through her teeth. “Nothing we cannot take care of ourselves.”

“Oh come off it, Mels.” Fiona snaps back sharply. “We may as well tell him! He’s right! If my mind isn’t in the game then we’re fucked!”

Melinda and Fiona exchange a tense glare, as if unspoken words were being shared. Kurt watches them both, careful not to interrupt this tense moment between them until it becomes absolutely necessary. But then it is Melinda who finally speaks up.

“Very well.” Braddock sighs. “Todd Osbourne…”

“Fiona’s foster?” Kurt asks. He knows the name well and he knows the entire story about what he did to Fiona. Kurt’s face instantly grows stone-faced and serious with concern. “What about him?”

“He’s been trying to make contact with Fiona.”

“Trying?!” Fiona snaps back, her emotions getting the better of her. “He’s been stalking me! Sending me creepy photos, sending me gifts, he showed up on the front door…”

“He was here?!” Kurt asks. Melinda sighs and shakes her head.

“No, at OUR house, mine and Clyde’s down the street. Me and Clyde were with her. He ran Todd away.”

“Ok, I see,” Kurt sighs, trying to piece this all together “so what does he want?”

“He claims he just wants to talk to me.” Fiona says. “He wants to have a relationship with me again, or so he says…but there’s the problem…Clyde says ignorance is bliss and maybe I should just ignore Todd. Hope he goes away. Or if he doesn’t, get a restraining order, but under no circumstances talk to him.”

“I happen to disagree.” Melinda answers back. “I think it might be wise to hear what Todd has to say. Worst case scenario is we learn that he hasn’t changed one bit and then Fiona can get that restraining order. In fact, hearing what Todd has to say just might appease him and make him go away.”

Kurt pauses as he considers everything the girls just said.

“First, Clyde may be right about ignoring him, or getting the restraining order. I mean, I love you Melinda, but if he is still just a stalker, just a creep, those types won’t be appeased. They’ll never go away quietly.” Kurt sighs. “And yet I am a sucker for second chances.”

“You are?!” Fiona asks, sounding surprised. Melinda smirks.

“It’s Glory’s influence.” Kurt chuckles. “I was a cynic once but your mother got me to believing that people can change, she got me to believe in second chances.

“So what do you think I should do?”

“It might not be a bad idea to hear what he has to say.” Kurt says. “Just make sure its safe, in a public place, and with backup.”

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February 22nd, 2026
Miami, Florida
On Camera
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In front of the plain grey studio background, The Third Generation Goddess and The Boston Badass stand side by side, their presences creating an electric contrast of elegance and rebellion. On the left is Melinda Braddock with long, silky platinum-blonde hair that falls straight past her shoulders. She wears a strapless white gown of delicate, flowing chiffon-like fabric that clings softly to her torso before cascading into a voluminous, floor-sweeping skirt with subtle sparkling embellishments along the hem; the dress leaves her shoulders and upper chest bare, accentuating her toned arms and collarbone. To her right stands Fiona Logan with long, dark hair featuring vivid red streaks and choppy bangs. She wears round, dark sunglasses that partially obscure her eyes, paired with a confident, knowing half-smile. Her outfit is a high-octane mix of leather and hardware: an open black leather jacket with a glossy finish reveals a structured grey-and-black bustier top studded with silver rivets and accented by multiple layered black chain necklaces and a spiked choker. Matching grey shorts sit low on her hips, laced with crisscrossing black straps, additional studs, dangling chains, and cut-out panels that expose her midriff. Sheer black fishnet stockings sheath her long legs, disappearing into tall, shiny black boots that climb past her knees, fastened with rows of metal eyelets, buckles, and studs.

“Fate has certainly had its fun lately. Did everyone enjoy the chaos of the Underground gauntlet? Fate most certainly did. But the Underground division was not the only division where Fate had used its magic touch to entertain itself at the expense of the masses. Fate arguably has had its most fun with the tag team division. The tag team division of Supreme Championship Wrestling is in quite the turmoil and no, don’t blame the Glimmer’s pathetic failure. Don’t blame Selena Frost and Xander Valentine’s desire to destroy one another as opposed to being a legitimate tag team. Don’t blame the comic relief known as Chris and Ryan Hollywood. Blame Fate, for Fate has written this script. Fate has had it all planned out.” Braddock snickers knowingly.

“This is why The Vision stands here speaking to all of you, especially to you Shinigami Foundation, with the utmost confidence that we will prevail. This is why The Vision is not dismayed by the current situation. The Vision believes in Fate’s plan and The Vision is confident that the providence of Fate is on our side.” She points a finger at the camera. “Alex Belmont. Wil Pierce.” Melinda Braddock’s voice is stoic yet her face is sporting a confident, borderline arrogant smirk. “The Shinigami Foundation. It appears that we have found like minds within this promotion, haven’t we Fiona?”

“You two are former SCW World Tag Team Champions yet they have you dealing with Gavin Taylor’s nonsense or the European Fiery Fools. We know the feeling. We are the current reigning MWA World Tag Team Champions and MWCW Tag Team Champions. We’ve been practically ignored since Fatal Fortunes and yet what is the current condition of the tag team division?” She looks over at Melinda, who shakes her head with contempt.

“A couple of circus rejects held the titles, only to lose them to a ‘team’, and I use that word loosely, of Selena and Xander who hate one another, who were only put together for the sheer entertainment of CHBK, and the first team to get a title shot? The comic relief. Hollywood.” Melinda rolls her eyes. Fiona motions to the camera, as if pointing at Alex and Wil.

“You’re right, game recognizes game, real recognizes real, and I think we all can agree that The Vision or The Shinigami Foundation are two of the very few legitimate tag teams in this damn company, not the circus freaks…not the walking strange bedfellows trope…and definitely not the comic relief.”

“Can I hashtag walking strange bedfellows trope?” Melinda asks with a smirk on her face. “I know it’s not my Vlog but…”

“Go for it!”

“Awesome. #WalkingStrangeBedfellowsTrope.”

“But The Vision and The Shinigami Foundation?” Fiona snickers. “One of us should be atop this tag team division. On any other night and on any other circumstance could be great friends. Hell, after we’re done beating the hell out of each other, we could all go out for drinks. Loser buys drinks.”

“Alas there can only be ONE top contender and there can only be ONE who sits atop the tag team division.” Melinda Braddock holds up one finger. “Potential friendships, alliances, or even dare I say respect aside, this is not going to be your night, for Fate is not on your side.” The Third Generation Goddess nods her head. She motions to herself and Fiona. “Fate is on our side. Fate is on the side of The Vision. No matter how long it may take, through all the trials and tribulations, we will overcome, we will endure, and we will ultimately outlast you and all of the other tag teams in the division until we claim the SCW World Tag Team Championship.”

“Now unlike Mels here, I’m not one for the whole Fate talk,” Fiona shakes her head “but do you wanna know what I am a big fan of? I am a big fan of a good fight. Alex, Wil, you’ve been watching us? Hell, the feeling is mutual. We’ve been watching you guys. And I know you’ll give me and Mels here the kinda fight we like. I know you’ll bring hell to this dance and you know what? I am looking forward to it. I want you to bring everything you got because when…not if, WHEN…me and Mels win on Breakdown, I do not want there to be any doubt or any questions in the minds of the powers that be as to who deserves the next opportunity.”

“My sister raises an interesting point of contention.” Melinda smirks. “It does appear as if there is a question of who is in charge? Is it Mr. Delatossa? Is it CHBK? Who holds the ultimate power? Lately it would seem as if that changes on a day to day basis. Oh but I am a firm believer that Fate is in control and no one else. Fate has already written the endgame. All of you are bit players in its game…” she points at the camera “...but not you, Shinigami Foundation, and definitely not The Vision. We are the major players of the tag team division going forward.” Melinda declares proudly. Fiona speaks next, just as proudly, just as boldly.

“Problem is you’re gonna have to wait just a little bit longer before you can take center strange, friends, because me and Mels have our eyes on the prize and not one damn soul on this roster is going to stop us from taking that next step up and claiming what rightfully belongs to us.”

“Your Fate is sealed.” Melinda winks at the camera as it fades to black.

[Thunderhorse]

(The Foundation) "Dire Straits" pt 5

OOC Notes: Short and Sweet, references the first Colleen promo in hindsight. Warning-contains one paniced David Striker, do not shake contents...but be kind and rewind?