Scarlet Carsons & Kirsten Scott vs. The Vision

[Kemal Yilmaz]

4 RP Limit for tag

3500 Word Per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Saturday, August 8, 2026

[Braddock]

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August 2nd, 2026
Miami, Florida
Off Camera
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The Vision’s return to SCW could have gone more perfect. They got the jump on Scarlett Carsons, renewing their rivalry with her and letting her know that this ends when they say it ends. They picked up a victory over Chris and Ryan Hollywood, gaining momentum heading into the biggest show of the year, Rise To Greatness, where The Vision hope to put an end to Scarlett once and for all. The only unexpected wild card that was put into play was none other than Kirsten Scott. Braddock, Fiona, and Sutter had hoped that Carsons would be unable to find someone willing to fight by her side, unable to find someone to provide backup. A two on one scenario officially, a three on one unofficially counting Clyde Sutter on the outside, would certainly be advantageous for The Vision. Unfortunately The One opted to stick her nose into Vision business and volunteer to be Scarlett’s tag team partner at Rise To Greatness.

Yet, even that comes with a hint of a silver lining for the devious group. Scott is double booked. She is set to face Dawn Lohan in a number one contender’s match at Rise To Greatness. Melinda and Fiona know that Scott’s attention will most definitely be divided between earning a shot at the Adrenaline Title and helping Scarlett Carsons. Will she be spread too thin? The Vision most definitely hope so. It will provide them with just the edge they need to get a win at the biggest show of the year and prove to the SCW roster that they are back and they are taking no prisoners.

Before the trio make the trip to Detroit, Michigan for Rise To Greatness, they are making a pit stop to Miami, Florida, Melinda Braddock’s second home, where they plan to rest and relax before placing their full attention on taking out their squared circle rivals. Rest and relaxation is most certainly deserved to one member of The Vision: Fiona Logan. The past several months Fiona has been relentlessly harassed by her former foster father, Todd Osbourne, who has been insistent upon renewing their relationship. Fiona and Melinda both agree that particular distraction is a large part of why they were unable to succeed in SCW earlier. Now that is behind them, they can pick up where they left off and run the SCW tag team division into the ground.

The heavy Miami heat had a way of sticking to everything, even deep inside the air-conditioned dimness of this dive bar. Neon beer signs hummed quietly against the exposed brick, casting a low amber and cobalt glow over the worn wooden booth where the three of them had staked their claim for the evening. Outside, the night was loud with humid ocean breeze and distant traffic, but inside, the atmosphere was slow and thick with the smell of stale spirits, fried food, and lime peel. Melinda Braddock adjusted the strap of her ivory silk top, smoothing the fabric with a habitual, understated grace. Her platinum blonde hair was pinned back in soft waves that caught the amber light, looking effortlessly tailored even in a place that didn't particularly care for refinement. She shifted slightly on the vinyl seat, resting one manicured hand on the edge of the table while her gaze swept the room. Coming from the damp, overcast grey of London, the South Florida weather was always a shock to her system, but tonight the warmth felt welcome. It served as a buffer, a physical marker that they were far away from the cold grind of the road, if only for a few days before the eventual push north. Beside her, Clyde Sutter sat with his back against the corner wall, taking up an extraordinary amount of space without trying to. Broad across the shoulders and packed with heavy, dense muscle, he leaned back into the shadows of the booth. His long black hair fell over his collar, damp at the ends from the evening air, framing a square jaw and quiet eyes that kept a casual watch over the front entrance. Clyde was rarely loud, especially away from the arena lights, preferring to let his presence act as an anchor for the group. Hailing from the tough, working-class grit of Birmingham, he carried a steady, unbothered calm that usually served as the counterweight to the higher tempers around him. Tonight, his large hands were loosely folded around a tall pint glass, thumb tracing the condensation running down the glass.

Across from them sat Fiona Logan, her shoulders slightly slouched in a posture of complete, unrefined relief. Her long black hair, slashed with deep streaks of crimson, spilled over the collar of her worn black leather jacket, which she stubbornly kept on despite the coastal climate. Underneath, a faded graphic tee clung to her trim frame, paired with dark denim jeans that had seen their fair share of backstages and airport terminals. She was leaning forward, elbows propped firmly on the sticky tabletop, staring down at the ice melting in her glass. For the first time in months, the sharp, defensive edge that usually defined Fiona's posture seemed to have dulled. The long, ugly shadow cast by Todd Osbourne, her former foster father back in Boston, had finally been cut loose. It was an ordeal that had dragged her through hell and back, pulling memories out of the dark that she had spent years trying to bury under ring gear, loud music, and relentless travel. But it was over now. The legalities were finished, the confrontation was done, and the finality of it was slowly settling into the room like dust after a storm. Melinda reached over, her delicate fingers lightly tapping the wooden table to draw Fiona’s attention away from her glass. Clyde leaned forward slightly, the heavy wood of the booth creaking under his weight as he set his pint down with a soft thud, eyes fixed on Fiona with a subtle, knowing grin.

“So how does it feel, Fiona?” Melinda asks.

“How does what feel, Mels?”

“How does it feel to have Todd Osbourne out of your life?”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes “don’t even bother mentioning his name. I don’t want to even talk about him right now, alright, Mels?”

“Alright, calm down,” Melinda chuckles “save that violence for Rise To Greatness.”

“Besides,” Fiona sighs “he’s not necessarily out of my life forever as you put it. I told him that I needed space and privacy. I even told him that it wasn’t necessarily a goodbye forever.”

“People do change, Fiona.” Clyde chimes in. “In my own history, I had all but given up on my sister Lilith. Yet she has proven to not only be a valuable asset but a caring sister who genuinely wants to get to know the brother she never knew she had.”

“My point exactly, big guy.” Fiona nods her head. “Todd was a real jerk when he was raising me. He used me. He abused me emotionally and mentally. But he seems to be sincere and genuine about turning over a new leaf.” She shrugs her shoulders. “So who knows? Maybe there IS hope for us? But for now I just need time to myself. Time to think. And for now…” she takes a big gulp fo her drink and puts the glass hard onto the table, smirking knowingly “...for now I don’t want to think about him. We got bigger fish to fry. Vision business.”

“Quite right.” Melinda sips on her drink. “It is high time that we put Scarlett Carsons to bed once and for all.”

“Yeah, but what about Kirsten Scott?” Fiona arches her brow. “We didn’t count on her ass getting involved.”

“It does not matter.” Sutter shakes his head. “Fate has written the play and we are but mere players in its script. The final act draws near on Ms. Carsons and Ms. Scott.”

“Oh quit with the fate talk already!” Fiona exclaims, shaking her head. “Fate doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I gotta whip Scarlett’s ass AND Kirsten’s ass!”

“It is…unfortunate that Kirsten Scott involved herself in our affairs.” Melinda states. “But like Clyde said, it doesn’t matter, really. At the end of the day, Fate is on the side of The Vision and at Rise To Greatness we will put them both down.

“Right, kicking their asses I can get behind. But Fate?” Fiona shakes her head. “No way. We make our own fate, Mels. You and I, The Vision.”

The steady rhythm of the bar shifted as a low hum of feedback crackled through the overhead speakers, cutting through the heavy hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Near the far corner of the venue, a modest wooden stage that had been swallowed by shadow all evening suddenly bathed in a sharp amber spotlight. A tall, wire-framed microphone stand stood center stage, flanked by a battery of amplifiers, a dark drum kit gleaming under the stage lights, and a cluster of mic stands waiting for their owners.

A handful of musicians began filing out onto the scuffed floorboards, carrying themselves with the casual confidence of local veterans. First came the drummer, twirling a stick in one hand as he took his seat on the throne and made quick, routine adjustments to his cymbals. The bass player followed, slinging a worn Sunburst precision bass over his shoulder and turning his back to the crowd to adjust his amp setting. Two guitarists took their positions on opposite flanks, checking their tuning pedals in silence while a wave of warm static filled the air. Finally, the lead singer stepped up to the center mic, pulling the stand closer with a fluid, practiced motion that signaled the start of their set.

At the booth, the shift in energy caught Fiona’s attention. She had been staring down at her glass, but as the first rhythmic crack of the snare drum rang out, her eyes drifted over toward the light. At first, it was nothing more than simple, idle curiosity, the passive watchfulness of someone enjoying a rare night off in a dark bar. She rested her chin in her palm, her crimson-streaked hair spilling forward over her leather jacket as she watched the band settle into their opening chord progression.

Then her posture froze. Melinda noticed the change instantly.

“What is it, Fiona?” She asks quietly. “You look troubled.”

“Hush…” Fiona snaps “...I think…I think I know him…”

The casual slump in her shoulders vanished, replaced instantly by a rigid, unyielding stillness. Her hand slowly slid off her chin, dropping down to grip the wooden edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned pale beneath the dark polish on her nails. Her dark eyes narrowed, scanning the face of the lead guitarist as he stepped into the pool of light to lay down the opening riff. The color seemed to drain from her expression, replaced by a sudden, jarring wave of total shock. Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her chest as the familiar contours of a face she never expected to see on a stage in Miami registered in her mind, turning her brief moment of calm entirely on its head.

“Who is it?” Melinda asks.

“That guitar player.” Fiona points onto the stage. “It’s Jacob Reilly.”

“Who?”

“Jacob Reilly.” Fiona repeats. “He was a friend of mine from high school, a really close friend.”

“I thought Mr. Osbourne didn’t let you go to school?” Clyde asks.

“By law he had to at least until a certain grade. Me and Jacob were close friends in school before Todd pulled me out to become a full time model.”

“How close were you two?” Melinda asks with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Oh shut up, Mels.” Fiona snickers. “To answer the question that is REALLY on your mind…no, he was not my boyfriend.” She sighs, Melinda and Clyde both can detect a sense of regret. “But we were as close as two people could be without being an official couple.”

Jacob was crouched near a pedalboard, turning a small knob with practiced precision as the rest of the band continued making their final adjustments. Fiona hesitated for only a second before pushing herself out of the booth. She lifted one hand uncertainly at first, then a little higher when he failed to notice.

“Jacob!” she called over the scattered tuning notes and the thump of the bass drum.

The guitarist glanced up absentmindedly, ready to dismiss it as another patron trying to get his attention. Then his eyes landed on her. He froze. The guitar pick slipped from between his fingers and bounced harmlessly off the stage. For a long moment he simply stared, disbelief written plainly across his face, before a broad, genuine smile spread across it. He pointed toward her as if making sure his eyes were not playing tricks on him.

“Fiona?” He exchanged a few quick words with the singer, who nodded toward the crowd with an understanding grin. Jacob carefully rested his guitar against its stand and hopped down from the low stage, weaving between tables until he reached their booth. “I don’t believe this,” he said, shaking his head as he stopped in front of Fiona. “After all these years…”

Without another word the two shared a warm, spontaneous hug, one born less from romance than from the shock of finding a familiar face in the last place either of them expected. When they finally stepped apart, Jacob looked her over with the same stunned smile.

“You’re looking great, Jacob.” Fiona says.

“And you look different.”

“Good different?” Fiona smirks, arching her brow.

“Definitely good.” He chuckles. “It’s just that, back in school I remember you being all girly and prim and proper and that’s…well that’s not the girl I see right now.”

“Yeah? Todd made me dress like that.” Fiona growls. “This is the real me.”

“I like the real you.”

Melinda Braddock and Clyde Sutter sit back in their booth, just watching on awkwardly as their friend catches up with her old high school pal. Braddock clears her throat, getting Fiona’s attention. Fiona laughs and motions to Melinda and Clyde.

“Jacob, this is my sister Melinda Braddock and her boyfriend Clyde Sutter.”

“Sister?” Jacob arches his brow curiously.

“Her parents helped me escape from Todd. They adopted me.” She smiles. “You may know them; Glory Braddock and Kurt Logan.”

“The professional wrestlers?” Jacob asks. “Sweet.”

“Yes, Fiona has become a part of the Braddock Wrestling Family.” Melinda chimes in. “She is going to help me improve it.”

“So you’re wrestling now?” Jacob asks. “Wow, that is so cool. I remember you were a huge fan. It’s awesome that you’re living your dream.”

“And you’re living your dream too.” Fiona points. “You’re in a band. You always loved music.”

“Yeah, well, this is the best I can do for now.” Jacob sighs.

“What do you mean?”

“I always wanted to be part of a band but I never had any luck in the New England area. So I moved down here to Florida hoping for better luck. And I did at least hook up with this group but, still, the gigs are small and they are few and far between.”

“Not making much money?” Fiona asks. Jacob shakes his head.

“Nope.” He smiles. “But hey, it was great seeing you again, Fiona. Maybe we can talk more after we play?”

The sudden collision of Fiona’s past and present hung in the warm, air-conditioned thick of the dive bar long after Jacob stepped back onto the wooden stage. What was supposed to be a quiet night of recovery before a grueling flight to Detroit had pivoted into something far more complicated, anchoring an unexpected emotional weight to the humid Miami evening. Watching Jacob strap his guitar back on and launch into the band’s opening chord progression, Fiona returned to the booth, her mind clearly stranded miles away from SCW, tag team titles, or the upcoming clash at Rise To Greatness.

For Melinda and Clyde, the encounter offered a rare, unfiltered glimpse into the life Fiona had led before the Braddock family pulled her from the wreckage of Todd Osbourne’s control. The contrast was stark: the girl Jacob remembered; forced into a prim, carefully curated mold by a manipulative foster father, stood in sharp opposition to the leather-clad, sharp-edged woman now sitting across from them. Yet, the vulnerability in Fiona’s eyes made it clear that while she had reclaimed her identity, the scars of those lost years remained sensitive to the touch. Reconnecting with someone who knew her before the ring lights, the travel grind, and the public battles brought a sudden, grounding reality to her journey.

At the same time, the reality of Jacob’s quiet struggle down in South Florida echoed a narrative all three wrestlers knew too well. Pursuit of a dream rarely offered smooth roads, whether chasing sellout crowds in the squared circle or playing under neon lights in half-empty bars for pocket change. Seeing a ghost from her youth striving for the same elusive break added a bittersweet tone to the evening, bridging the gap between her old life in New England and the high-stakes future waiting for her in the Midwest.

As the band’s music echoed off the exposed brick, filling the room with steady rhythm and raw energy, The Vision sat in silent contemplation. The night had begun as a celebration of closing one painful chapter with Todd Osbourne, but it ended by opening a window into another. With Kirsten Scott and Scarlett Carsons waiting in Detroit, and the looming pressure of the biggest show of the year closing in, Fiona now carried a renewed reminder of who she was, where she came from, and how far she had managed to rise. Whether this chance encounter would serve as a comforting anchor or a lingering distraction remained to be seen, but as the final chords resonated through the bar, one thing was certain: the past was never truly as far behind them as they liked to believe.

[Kirsten Scott]

APOSTASY CHAPTER 7: THE MIRROR'S LIE

[Braddock]

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August 6th, 2026
Detroit, Michigan
Off Camera
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The overcast sky hanging over downtown Detroit held the cool, heavy threat of late summer rain, drifting between tall concrete buildings and casting a subdued, steel-grey wash over the afternoon. Walking along the wide, cracked sidewalks, the trio fit right into the steady rhythm of the city as it began to stir for the evening. Steam rose lazily from street vents in thin white plumes, disappearing into the persistent breeze blowing off the nearby river. The hum of passing delivery trucks, distant sirens, and the metallic screech of a passing streetcar resonated off the glass and stone facades, punctuated by the occasional construction crew at work on a nearby block. Everywhere they looked, the city felt massive and industrial, defined by grand, weathered architecture standing right alongside crisp, newly renovated towers.

Melinda walked with a slow, deliberate pace, looking completely put together despite the gloomy weather. She wore a fitted, waist-length trench coat in a deep cream shade, left unbuttoned to reveal a simple black ribbed knit top tucked into high-waisted, dark tailored trousers. Her platinum blonde hair was styled in smooth, precise waves that fell just past her shoulders, untroubled by the damp breeze. She wore black leather ankle boots with a low, sturdy heel, her steps quiet against the concrete as she casually observed the passing sights with an air of relaxed poise. Walking beside her, Clyde took up a massive portion of the walkway, looking every bit the enforcer in the cool air. He had opted for a heavy, charcoal grey denim jacket over a fitted black crewneck shirt that stretched tight across his chest and arms. A pair of rugged, dark blue jeans rested over thick black work boots that hit the pavement with a heavy, rhythmic thud. His long black hair was gathered back into a loose knot at the base of his neck, keeping it out of his face, while his calm, dark eyes constantly scanned the surrounding streets, casually keeping watch over the two women.

Fiona walked a half step ahead, her posture sharp and restless, energy practically humming off her as the big event drew closer. She stayed true to her usual style, wearing a cropped charcoal vintage tee beneath a dark burgundy leather motorcycle jacket, left open and showing off subtle brass zipper hardware. Her dark denim jeans were faded at the knees and tucked into black combat boots with silver buckles, giving her a sharp, athletic edge. Her long black hair, with its bold streaks of crimson, blew freely in the river wind, pulling slightly across her face as she looked up at the towering buildings around them, clearly eager to trade the sightseeing for the ring.

The trio know that it won’t be long until they have to enter Ford Field and go to war with Scarlet Carsons and Kirsten Scott. They also recognize the importance of this night; not only do they need to put an end to their rivalry with Carsons but they need to make a statement in the process; a victory at Rise To Greatness, the premier event of SCW, will place them back into the tag team title picture. Melinda Braddock desperately wants to prove that SHE is the future of the Braddock Wrestling Legacy and that her mother is a fraud. Melinda also wants to shape professional wrestling into her own image. The young Third Generation Goddess has high goals and aspirations. Fiona, on the other hand? The Boston Badass just wants a good fight and she knows that she will get one at Rise To Greatness. Fiona is eager to step into the ring and start throwing hands.

“Ah, Detroit…” Melinda shakes her head in disgust “...it truly is as disgusting as I imagined.”

“I am used to this, my love.” Clyde remarks. “I grew up in Birmingham, remember?”

“Oh but Clyde, the squalor here makes Birmingham appear like a golden palace.” Braddock sighs. “Detroit doesn’t deserve to get to watch The Third Generation Goddess compete at Rise To Greatness.”

“I kinda agree with the big guy.” Fiona says with a grin on her face. “This place speaks to me! It speaks to who I really am and not the prissy model Todd wanted me to be. Besides, it can be here in Detroit, in your hometown of London, or in Siberia, as long as I get the chance to throw down and fight someone, I’m a happy bitch.”

“You were once a model?” Melinda chuckles. “You certainly do not talk or behave like one.”

“Like I said the other day to Jacob, the model persona is what Todd, my foster father, wanted for me. This right here?” She spins around. “This is the real Fiona!”

“You will certainly get your wish at Rise To Greatness.” Melinda nods her head. “We will be fighting Kirsten Scott and Scarlet Carsons and with the mood they are in, I doubt it will be a catch as catch can wrestling clinic.”

“Good.” Fiona smirks. “I wanna punch someone in the face.”

“Taking out Carsons and Scott is but merely a part of our grand plan, Fiona.” Melinda points out. Then she turns to look at Clyde. “Which reminds me, how is my adopted cousin Serena progressing with her training under your most wonderful tutelage?”

Sutter’s look remains stoic and serious. He nods his head.

“Serena is making some progress, yet her progress is slower than I had hoped.”

“Any progress is good.” Melinda states. “Especially considering the state she had been in. Under the influence of my pathetic aunt Julia she had become weak and absurd. You need to strengthen her, Clyde, even if it means using harsh means. Do you understand?”

“Of course, my beloved.” Clyde nods his head in agreement.

“And what about you, Fiona?” Melinda looks back at Fiona, who looks back in surprise. “What progress have you made?”

“What do you mean, Mels?” Fiona chuckles lightly. “I mean, we’re six time tag team champs. Currently we’re MWA World Tag Team Champions. Hey, I admit we haven’t had that same success in SCW yet, but I’d like to think I’ve held my own and carried my weight.”

“Oh you misunderstand me, my dear.” Melinda shakes her head. “I refer to your old friend Jacob.”

“Jacob?” Fiona furrows her brow. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“The last time we dealt with a ghost from your past…namely Todd Osbourne…it served as a distraction and set us back in our progress to take over SCW’s tag team division.”

“Oh is that all?” Fiona rolls her eyes. “Look, you got nothing to worry about, Mels. Don’t get your stockings all wadded up over this, ok? I already forgot about him.”

“Really?” Melinda looks on skeptically, yet Fiona nods her head.

“Yeah, I mean, I like Jacob but c’mon, he’s a lost cause. He loves music, he loves playing in the band, but his dream of making it in the music industry is unlikely to happen.”

“Your dream of becoming a professional wrestler came to be.” Melinda points out.

“Yeah but I was lucky.” Fiona states. “The modeling agency Todd had me hooked up with was the one ran by Kayla Jones, your mom’s first cousin and a former world champ in her own right. Kayla was the one who introduced to Glory who ultimately adopted me. The rest is history. I happened to know the right people at the right time, Mels. Jacob, unfortunately, has no one.”

“That is where you are wrong.” Melinda smirks. “Jacob does know the right people. He knows us.”

“Huh?” Fiona looks on in confusion. “What are you getting at, Mels? What could we possibly do for him?”

“My sister.” Clyde chimes in. “She has many…connections.”

“Yeah, criminal connections if I recall.”

“Lilith is going straight.” Clyde insists. “Besides, she wouldn’t have to influence anything. Not illegally, at least.”

“Clyde is right.” Melinda states. “If you believe in Jacob’s talents and ability, then Lilith Sutter can just get him an honest shot in front of some really influential minds in the music business and let them make up their own mind about Jacob Reilly and his group.”

“Jacob can just earn a shot?”

“Exactly.” Melinda replies. “He can earn his shot and go from there on his own with little influence from us or Lilith.”

“Well I do believe in Jacob. I think he deserves a fair shake.” Fiona sighs and nods her head. “Alright, let’s do it.” She looks at Clyde. “Hook him up, big guy.”

The conversation settled into a quiet resolve as the three of them continued their slow walk through the cool Detroit air. What had started as a simple stroll through an unfamiliar city had quickly turned into a sharp reminder of how tightly bound their lives were to one another. Melinda’s sharp tactical mind, always looking three steps ahead, had effortlessly woven Fiona’s past into a broader strategy. Rather than allowing Jacob Reilly to linger as an unfinished chapter or a potential distraction, they had transformed him into an opportunity, leveraging Clyde’s family ties to give an old friend a legitimate, earned break in an unforgiving industry. For Fiona, the gesture offered a sense of closure that had eluded her for years. The shadow of Todd Osbourne was finally fading into the background, replaced by a growing confidence in who she had become. She wasn't the timid, polished model her former foster father had tried to force her to be; she was a core piece of The Vision, surrounded by allies who understood her worth and backed her up both inside and outside the squared circle. By agreeing to let Lilith Sutter open a door for Jacob, Fiona was able to honor a meaningful bond from her past without letting it derail her present.

Yet, as the massive structure of Ford Field began to loom larger over the downtown skyline, the ambient noise of the city fell away to the brutal reality waiting for them. The downtime, the quiet reflection, and the personal favors were coming to an end. In a matter of hours, the quiet streets of Detroit would give way to the deafening roar of the SCW faithful at Rise To Greatness. The stakes for the evening could not be higher. Melinda remained fiercely fixated on carving out her place in the Braddock family legacy, determined to prove her superiority over her lineage and reshape professional wrestling in her own image. With Clyde standing guard as their muscle and enforcer, and Fiona eager to unleash her pent-up aggression, the group was entirely aligned in their goal. Scarlett Carsons and Kirsten Scott were standing directly in the path of their ambition, and The Vision had no intention of leaving Detroit without declaring total dominance over the tag team division. As the late summer wind picked up off the river, carrying the faint scent of rain across the pavement, the trio turned their focus toward the arena. The time for talk was over. The Vision was ready to make a statement, eager to prove that no ghost from the past, no rival, and no divided opponent could stop their inevitable rise to the top.

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Vlog #73
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Greetings, my lovelies! Your Third Generation Goddess Melinda Braddock here alongside my co-host The Boston Badass herself Fiona Logan! We are The Vision and this is our Vlog. You should all feel privileged to get to hear us speak directly to you. Just like the unwashed, pathetic fools in Detroit, Michigan should feel privileged to be in our presence to watch us at Rise To Greatness.

You are so damned humble, Mels.

Thank you, Fiona. Yes, I am humble. But you know who isn’t? Kirsten Scott. She’s either a narcissist or just plain stupid. Perhaps it is a combination of the two? Because who else would stick their nose into other people’s business when it doesn’t involve them? And now look at her! She is double booked at Rise To Greatness. Facing The Vision in one match and then Dawn Lohan later? Good luck with that!

We are not gonna soften up Scott for ya, Dawnie. Fact is, ya might end up winning by forfeit after the beating we put on her. So you can thank us in advance. You’re welcome.

And that brings me to our first set of hashtags for the day!

#YoureWelcome
#NoneOfYourBusiness
#SpreadingYourselfThin

Face facts, Kirsten, you really are spreading yourself way too thin. You think you can take on the whole damn world and why? Because it’s “the right thing to do”? You have no idea about right and wrong. Hell, you have no idea what you are talking about. You just vomit words out of your mouth. And you damn sure know NOTHING about me.

I’m a bully? I’m entitled, riding off of my mother’s coattails? Wrong on every single count, bitch. I am simply trying to correct a mistake and that very mistake IS my mother. I am trying to repair the very corruption and ruin she has brought upon the Braddock name. That is what this Vision is about and we are already well on our way to accomplishing that goal.

Wrestling all over the world we have already accumulated six world tag team title victories. It is but merely a matter of time before we add SCW to our list of conquests. We are proving our superiority over my mother and anyone else who thinks like her.

So do not try to lump me with her ever again.

Wow, Mels, I never saw you get that angry before. I was actually on half-joking when I talked about ol’ Kirsty not making it to Dawnie. If you fight with that kinda aggression, we might actually make it come to pass. I like that attitude, Mels. Keep it up.

Awww, thanks Fiona!

Mels is right about one thing, Kirsty. You don’t know our story so don’t pretend as if you do. This thing at Rise To Greatness is just between us and Scarlet. It didn’t involve you. It didn’t need to involve you. But you wanted to play hero. You wanted to do the right thing. What you didn’t realize is that the right would have been staying out of our way. Because we’re not bullies, Kirsty. We just wanted to put an end to this crap we got going on with Carsons. And us and Scarlet coulda done that without you.

Yet here you are.

So you wanna fight? Good. I love a good fight. I love fighting more than I like wrestling so bring it, Kirsty, and I’ll punch your teeth down your throat just as quickly as I punch Scar’s teeth down her throat.

Now that brings us to the annoying little insect who started this whole drama. Scarlet Carsons.

The Vision will crush your little rose garden just as easily as we crush your dreams. This issue between you and The Vision has gone on for far too long and has kept us distracted from our true goal. We should be planning our dominance and eventual takeover of the tag team division and yet we are running around in circles with you. And why? Because you have a beef with my boyfriend?

I have no problem squashing that beef on his behalf. I have no problem crushing you at Rise To Greatness. You have been nothing but a nuisance and obstacle in our path. Fate has destined The Vision to rule the tag team division and you are delaying its grand plan. But when it comes to Fate that is all you can do; delay. You cannot stop Fate. You cannot fight Fate. It is futile.

At Rise To Greatness, The Vision ENDS this futility.

Oh please, Mels! Stop with the whole fate talk and let’s just keep it real.

Scar, you hate us, we hate you. That’s all it boils down to. You’re just an obstacle in our path, one way plan to eliminate by kicking your ass all over Ford Field. You couldn’t get any help, you had no backup, due to no one giving a damn about you or due to some unfortunate accidents. But then you got lucky. Kirsty came along to save your ass.

But she’s not your savior. She’s just going to share in the embarrassment and humiliation and the pain of the beating we give you in Detroit.

This has nothing to do with Fate or destiny. This is simply a fight. It is a fight that The Vision plan to win.

On that note, let’s close this Vlog with a second set of hashtags!

#LetsFight
#VisionWins
#ScarIsALoser
#OneIsALoser
#YourFateIsSealed

We’ve been going back and forth for far too long, Carsons. At Rise To Greatness…it ends. All of it ends. It ends because Fate is on the side of The Vision and you cannot stop us.

[Kirsten Scott]

APOSTASY CHAPTER 9: THE LEROY JENKINS BREACH

[కᨶꪖꪹꪶꫀᡶᡶ ᨶꪖꪹకꪮ᭢క]

ȶɦɛ ɮʟɨռɖ ɢǟʀɖɛռ

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wrCn...it?tab=t.0