05-19-2025, 09:48 AM
1 of 2
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May 17th, 2025
Southampton, England
Off Camera
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This past Breakdown The Assassin decided that Fate had waited long enough for an answer from the woman who could potentially one day be his mother-in-law, “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. Clyde Sutter struck out and attacked Syren this past Breakdown. He and Glory’s daughter, Clyde’s girlfriend Melinda Braddock, had been trying to convince Glory to let them go after Syren, to convince her to let them take care of this problem for her. But thus far Glory Braddock has been unwilling to let The Assassin do what he does best. She has been unwilling to accept this offer of assistance. The British Bombshell, instead, wants to believe that is above taking shortcuts like that. Nevertheless, Clyde Sutter does not have to wait for Braddock to make up her mind. He does not have to wait for her to give him permission to target Syren. The Assassin answers to only one authority and that authority is Fate. Fate has told Sutter that Syren’s time is up. Fate told Sutter that it was time to take her out for good and Breakdown was just the first step. The second step in fulfilling Fate’s will regarding Syren comes one week later when The Assassin will get his hands on Syren one on one in Atlanta, Georgia.
It isn’t just about doing the will of Fate for The Assassin. For a long time his relationship with Glory Braddock has been rough to say the very least. He knows Glory does not fully trust him, which makes it very awkward considering the fact that he is dating her daughter. Clyde does want to have a good, positive relationship with his girlfriend’s mother. Whatever went wrong between the two of them, he wants to mend fences and make things right. He wants to prove to Glory that he can be beneficial to her and what better way, in his own twisted mind, to do that than to take out someone like Syren whom Glory utterly despises? The British Bombshell may not appreciate him now but she will one day thank him for what he is about to do to Syren. She will thank Sutter for choking the life out of Syren in front thousands of fans in attendance on Breakdown.
The moon hung low over Southampton, filtered through a gauzy veil of drifting clouds. It cast a silvery glow over the expansive lawn that unrolled like velvet before the mansion. The house itself was a towering edifice of affluence and old money, perched at the far end of the estate like a sleeping giant. Its pale limestone façade was softened by climbing ivy and flanked by columns that caught the moonlight in clean, cold lines. The windows, tall and arched, gleamed like empty eyes in the dark, giving no indication of life within. From the wrought-iron gates to the circular gravel drive lined with neatly trimmed yew hedges, every inch of the property radiated cultivated perfection. A small marble fountain gurgled quietly in the center of the drive, water trickling over the stone lips of cherubic figures frozen in a dance of eternal play. The whole place smelled of wet earth and freshly cut grass, a deceptively innocent fragrance that belied the tension tightening the muscles of the two figures crouched low in the shadows.
Clyde Sutter moved like a predator, a tall, broad-shouldered shadow with the grace of a dancer and the silence of a ghost. His long black hair was tied back in a loose leather band, but wisps had escaped, brushing against his jawline as he scanned the estate with eyes that flicked from point to point. He wore black from head to toe: a soft tactical jacket that clung to his form, cargo pants with deep pockets that didn’t rustle, and lightweight boots that left barely a mark in the damp grass. Joey, smaller and wirier, moved with the quick, twitchy energy of a cat that didn’t want to be outside. He was dressed similarly, though his gear looked borrowed—slightly too big in some places, too snug in others. He muttered under his breath with every crouch and dash, cursing the cold, the dew, the goddamned rich who built their houses like fortresses in the middle of sprawling fields. His face was narrow, drawn tight with nerves, eyes darting up at the windows as though expecting an old man in a robe to suddenly appear with a double-barrelled shotgun. They crept forward, using the hedge line as cover, each movement slow and calculated. Sutter would pause every few steps, one hand held up, index and middle fingers extended in a silent signal that Joey had learned to read through gritted teeth. Stop. Listen. Move.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Joey whispered hoarsely, breath puffing into the cold air like smoke. His voice was barely audible, but the edge of panic made it sharp. “You know what kind of place this is. People like this don’t forget. They don’t forgive.”
“Quiet,” he murmured. Sutter didn’t look at him, just kept moving, as if the house itself were a living thing and he was trying not to wake it. “I need you for this, Joseph.”
“Joey!”
“Whatever. I need backup and you’re it.”
“Right. Because I’m gonna be such great help.” Joey snorted under his breath.
Sutter glanced back then, just for a moment, and Joey shut up. There was something in Sutter’s eyes; something calm, but not comforting. It was the calm of someone who had accepted what needed to be done long before anyone else even saw the danger. That look had carried them through worse situations than this. The two of them reached the edge of the great lawn. Beyond them, the house loomed larger than ever; three stories high, with a central tower that cast a crooked shadow across the roof like a sundial pointing toward midnight. The front doors, painted a rich burgundy and polished to a mirror shine. They moved again, this time crossing a shallow garden filled with spring blooms: hyacinths, tulips, and white lilies that gleamed like bone in the moonlight. The air was heavy with their scent. Somewhere far off, a fox barked into the night. Joey flinched. Sutter didn’t even blink.
“I hate that you dragged me out here…” Joey whispers.
“We used to raise hell all over the streets of Birmingham.” Clyde states pointedly. “Why are you suddenly weak in the knees?”
“It aint like that!” Joey insists. “I have no problem raising hell every now and then but this is dangerous! Besides, I am just an informant. I got you the information you needed. What can I help you with?”
“I told you.” Sutter repeats. “I need backup.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Clyde, but isn’t this your sister’s place you’re wanting to break into?” Joey asks. “Why the hell do you need backup against your sister?!”
“My sister is not to be underestimated.” Clyde says quietly, stoically, but in a grave tone that seemed to indicate a hint of warning for Joey that does nothing to help his demeanor.
“So your sister is dangerous…” Joey sighs “look, I get it, you and I go way back, we’ve had our own fair share of schemes during our childhood. But in our relationship, you were the enforcer. You were the muscle. Me?” Joey smirks knowingly. “I was just simply the brains.”
“What are you saying?” Sutter asks threateningly.
“Oh I don’t mean to imply you’re not smart. It’s just that…” Joey smiles sheepishly “...I’m not a fighter. I don’t think I can help if we ran into trouble.”
“Shut up and follow me.” The Assassin remarks coldly as he approaches the front door. Joey’s eyes grow wide. He is stunned that his friend is going for the front door. Despite this, Joey quickly scrambles to catch up.
“Are you crazy?!”
“What’s wrong?” Clyde smirks, showing some emotion for the first time on this trip. “I thought this was just…my sister?”
“Yes but…” Joey shakes his head “...the way you talk about her, she seems dangerous.”
“I’ll protect you.”
“I don’t find that comforting, dude.”
“Trust me, you are safe.” He motions with his arms to the right and left. “Look around you, Joseph. Isn’t it odd that someone like my sister…as wealthy as she is, with her own criminal connections…that she doesn’t have some form of security presence on her property?”
“Uh…well yeah…”
“And do you not find that this property seems to be too…quiet? Too empty?”
“I suppose.” Joey shrugs his shoulders.
“Trust me. We’re fine.” He reaches for the door knob. He half-expects the door to be locked. Surely Lilith Sutter would at least lock her property up. Yet, even this minor security is seemingly ignored. This fact does bother The Assassin a little but he doesn’t let it show. The last thing he needs is for Joey to freak out any more than he already is.
“I don’t think we should go inside.” Joey says. “I don’t wanna get busted for breaking and entering.”
“Shut up!” Clyde exclaims. “This isn’t breaking and entering…this is my sister’s home. I am family.”
The Assassin crosses the threshold into the home. Joey reluctantly follows him inside. They find that the inside is even more exquisite and luxurious than the outside. Lilith Sutter’s wealth is indeed astounding to look at. Sutter seems to be more determined than ever. Joey, on the other hand, is still very nervous.
“So, uh, what now?”
“Split up and search the house.” Clyde remarks in a matter-of-fact tone. Joey looks on curiously.
“Search for what?” He shrugs his shoulders. “I still have no clue why you drug me out here for.”
“I told you, I need backup.” Sutter remarks. “Your word for backing me up is you get to have whatever you find in this home.”
“Wait…” He furrows his brow out of confusion “...you want me to steal from your sister?”
“I don’t give a damn about her.” Sutter says with venom in his voice. “She is very wealthy and has very priceless items in her possession. Consider this your reward, Joseph.”
“Great!” Joey seems to finally be at ease. The idea of making some quick cash off of a heist does intrigue this common criminal. “What about you? You gonna rob her blind too? Is this what this is about?”
“No…” Sutter chuckles “...it’s funny, Joseph, you said in all of our past schemes that YOU were the brains and I was but merely the muscle. Yet you cannot see the bigger picture here. You only see materialistic wealth.”
“So if you’re not here for money, what are you here for?”
“None of your business.” Sutter growls angrily. “Just go claim your reward and be on your way.”
“Ye…yes sir.” Joey quickly turns and walks away, deeper into the house. The Assassin is partly glad that he is gone. He no longer has to put up with Joey’s nonsense. Now he can focus on the real task at hand which is to find his sister. Ever since he learned about Lilith’s involvement in the shooting death of Archie Van Stanton, Clyde’s half-brother, Clyde has been desperate to track her down and get revenge, not just for Archie’s sake but for Melinda’s sake. Melinda may be Clyde’s girlfriend now but she was Archie’s fiance at the time of the shooting and she got caught in the crossfire.
Revenge, however, has proven elusive as The Assassin has been unable to find his sister. This in and of itself is a rather odd circumstance. Lilith, at one point, was making her presence felt in Clyde’s life frequently. At one point, Lilith wanted Clyde to find her, to talk to her. Lilith wanted Clyde to join her in her criminal empire. Now, the one time Sutter actually wants to find his sister, she is nowhere to be found. This is why he is here tonight. He has taken the initiative. He is here on her turf hoping to find her. Unfortunately, as empty as this place seems to be, he may have just missed her.
Nevertheless, he is going to try and that search brings him down the hall and into the first open room he sees; he enters and he finds that it is a bedroom. The bedroom was expansive, almost too large for comfort, with high ceilings from which hung an elaborate chandelier, its crystals dulled by dust and time. The bed itself was a four-poster affair, draped in silk sheets the color of oxblood, the headboard carved from what looked like rosewood. Nothing was out of place, no shoes kicked aside, no clutter, no signs of life. Yet the room felt inhabited, somehow. As if its owner had only just stepped out to fetch something from another wing. As luxurious as this is, Clyde surmises that this is his sister’s room. Sutter’s eyes scanned the space with methodical intent. He moved toward the writing desk first; an elaborate piece of craftsmanship with gilded inlay and leather trim. The drawers slid open without protest. Inside: a selection of embossed stationery, an ivory fountain pen in its case, and a small black notebook sealed shut with a red ribbon. He examined the notebook briefly, fingers brushing the ribbon but not untying it. Not yet. He moved on. To the armoire next; eight feet tall and smelling faintly of cedar. It opened to reveal row after row of precisely hung clothing. Evening gowns. Cashmere robes. Crisp shirts arranged by color. Beneath them, a pair of antique leather suitcases and a lockbox. Sutter crouched, opened the smaller case. Jewelry, expensive but impersonal. The kind of cold, inherited wealth that sat heavy around a throat but meant nothing to the wearer.
“Are we looking for something specific or just casing the place?” This whisper startles Sutter. He turns to find Joey is there.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” He demands.
“Sorry.” He shrugs. “I was just curious.”
“Don’t be curious. It’s hazardous to your health.”
He crossed the room to a bookshelf built into the wall, dark mahogany filled with tomes bound in leather and vellum. Some were first editions—rare volumes that would make any collector weep. But tucked between two thick law books, almost deliberately hidden, was a small folder of loose pages bound with a paperclip. Sutter slid it out, flipped through the contents. Then, tucked behind the final sheet, he found it; a note. A single piece of thick cream stationery, folded in half. His name was written across the front in slanted black ink: Clyde.
“I knew you would find out eventually, dear brother. I was hoping it wouldn’t be this soon and I had hoped you would find out from me and not from someone else. Yes, I found out about your friend nosing around in my business and knew that it would not be long until you learned of my involvement in the death of Archie Van Stanton. Believe me, dear brother, I was going to tell you all about it, but I planned to wait until you were ready. The fact is that you are not ready. You are still blinded by emotion and that emotion will only lead you to losing control. You found this letter because you wanted to find me and, no doubt, kill me in retribution for the Van Stanton kid and that whore of a girlfriend of yours. I have no desire to die today so I have taken a leave of absence. But I am not done with you. I will return when you are calm and ready to talk.”
Sutter wads up the letter and tosses it to the floor. He emits a low growl under his breath. Joey is still thoroughly confused.
“What was that?”
“You idiot!” Sutter grabs Joey by the throat and slams him against a wall.
“What?! What’d I do?!”
“You were lazy! You were reckless!” Clyde snaps angrily. “Lilith knew what you were doing and she left town!”
“Hey, man, I did my best!”
“You are a fool…” he reluctantly lets go of Joey “...this entire trip you have been whining and complaining about your safety. Now your safety is truly in jeopardy and even I cannot help you. My sister knows of your existence and that you helped me. You have made yourself a target.”
“Wait…what?!”
“You are a bloody fool.” Clyde shakes his head. “It would be advisable if you lay low for the foreseeable future and pray that my sister does not find you.”
“What about you?” Joey asks. “What are you going to do now?”
“I WAS going to kill my sister. Right here, tonight, I had planned to end her.” He shakes her head. “Now she’s still on the loose and is still a threat. But I am not without a pathway to justice. I can still get justice for my half-brother and for my beloved.” Sutter bends down and picks up the wadded up piece of paper.
“That letter…” Joey begins, pointing to it. Clyde nods his head.
“Yes. It is my sister’s confession.” He smirks. “Tonight was not a total loss. At least now I have some leverage over her.”
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May 17th, 2025
Southampton, England
Off Camera
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This past Breakdown The Assassin decided that Fate had waited long enough for an answer from the woman who could potentially one day be his mother-in-law, “The British Bombshell” Glory Braddock. Clyde Sutter struck out and attacked Syren this past Breakdown. He and Glory’s daughter, Clyde’s girlfriend Melinda Braddock, had been trying to convince Glory to let them go after Syren, to convince her to let them take care of this problem for her. But thus far Glory Braddock has been unwilling to let The Assassin do what he does best. She has been unwilling to accept this offer of assistance. The British Bombshell, instead, wants to believe that is above taking shortcuts like that. Nevertheless, Clyde Sutter does not have to wait for Braddock to make up her mind. He does not have to wait for her to give him permission to target Syren. The Assassin answers to only one authority and that authority is Fate. Fate has told Sutter that Syren’s time is up. Fate told Sutter that it was time to take her out for good and Breakdown was just the first step. The second step in fulfilling Fate’s will regarding Syren comes one week later when The Assassin will get his hands on Syren one on one in Atlanta, Georgia.
It isn’t just about doing the will of Fate for The Assassin. For a long time his relationship with Glory Braddock has been rough to say the very least. He knows Glory does not fully trust him, which makes it very awkward considering the fact that he is dating her daughter. Clyde does want to have a good, positive relationship with his girlfriend’s mother. Whatever went wrong between the two of them, he wants to mend fences and make things right. He wants to prove to Glory that he can be beneficial to her and what better way, in his own twisted mind, to do that than to take out someone like Syren whom Glory utterly despises? The British Bombshell may not appreciate him now but she will one day thank him for what he is about to do to Syren. She will thank Sutter for choking the life out of Syren in front thousands of fans in attendance on Breakdown.
The moon hung low over Southampton, filtered through a gauzy veil of drifting clouds. It cast a silvery glow over the expansive lawn that unrolled like velvet before the mansion. The house itself was a towering edifice of affluence and old money, perched at the far end of the estate like a sleeping giant. Its pale limestone façade was softened by climbing ivy and flanked by columns that caught the moonlight in clean, cold lines. The windows, tall and arched, gleamed like empty eyes in the dark, giving no indication of life within. From the wrought-iron gates to the circular gravel drive lined with neatly trimmed yew hedges, every inch of the property radiated cultivated perfection. A small marble fountain gurgled quietly in the center of the drive, water trickling over the stone lips of cherubic figures frozen in a dance of eternal play. The whole place smelled of wet earth and freshly cut grass, a deceptively innocent fragrance that belied the tension tightening the muscles of the two figures crouched low in the shadows.
Clyde Sutter moved like a predator, a tall, broad-shouldered shadow with the grace of a dancer and the silence of a ghost. His long black hair was tied back in a loose leather band, but wisps had escaped, brushing against his jawline as he scanned the estate with eyes that flicked from point to point. He wore black from head to toe: a soft tactical jacket that clung to his form, cargo pants with deep pockets that didn’t rustle, and lightweight boots that left barely a mark in the damp grass. Joey, smaller and wirier, moved with the quick, twitchy energy of a cat that didn’t want to be outside. He was dressed similarly, though his gear looked borrowed—slightly too big in some places, too snug in others. He muttered under his breath with every crouch and dash, cursing the cold, the dew, the goddamned rich who built their houses like fortresses in the middle of sprawling fields. His face was narrow, drawn tight with nerves, eyes darting up at the windows as though expecting an old man in a robe to suddenly appear with a double-barrelled shotgun. They crept forward, using the hedge line as cover, each movement slow and calculated. Sutter would pause every few steps, one hand held up, index and middle fingers extended in a silent signal that Joey had learned to read through gritted teeth. Stop. Listen. Move.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Joey whispered hoarsely, breath puffing into the cold air like smoke. His voice was barely audible, but the edge of panic made it sharp. “You know what kind of place this is. People like this don’t forget. They don’t forgive.”
“Quiet,” he murmured. Sutter didn’t look at him, just kept moving, as if the house itself were a living thing and he was trying not to wake it. “I need you for this, Joseph.”
“Joey!”
“Whatever. I need backup and you’re it.”
“Right. Because I’m gonna be such great help.” Joey snorted under his breath.
Sutter glanced back then, just for a moment, and Joey shut up. There was something in Sutter’s eyes; something calm, but not comforting. It was the calm of someone who had accepted what needed to be done long before anyone else even saw the danger. That look had carried them through worse situations than this. The two of them reached the edge of the great lawn. Beyond them, the house loomed larger than ever; three stories high, with a central tower that cast a crooked shadow across the roof like a sundial pointing toward midnight. The front doors, painted a rich burgundy and polished to a mirror shine. They moved again, this time crossing a shallow garden filled with spring blooms: hyacinths, tulips, and white lilies that gleamed like bone in the moonlight. The air was heavy with their scent. Somewhere far off, a fox barked into the night. Joey flinched. Sutter didn’t even blink.
“I hate that you dragged me out here…” Joey whispers.
“We used to raise hell all over the streets of Birmingham.” Clyde states pointedly. “Why are you suddenly weak in the knees?”
“It aint like that!” Joey insists. “I have no problem raising hell every now and then but this is dangerous! Besides, I am just an informant. I got you the information you needed. What can I help you with?”
“I told you.” Sutter repeats. “I need backup.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Clyde, but isn’t this your sister’s place you’re wanting to break into?” Joey asks. “Why the hell do you need backup against your sister?!”
“My sister is not to be underestimated.” Clyde says quietly, stoically, but in a grave tone that seemed to indicate a hint of warning for Joey that does nothing to help his demeanor.
“So your sister is dangerous…” Joey sighs “look, I get it, you and I go way back, we’ve had our own fair share of schemes during our childhood. But in our relationship, you were the enforcer. You were the muscle. Me?” Joey smirks knowingly. “I was just simply the brains.”
“What are you saying?” Sutter asks threateningly.
“Oh I don’t mean to imply you’re not smart. It’s just that…” Joey smiles sheepishly “...I’m not a fighter. I don’t think I can help if we ran into trouble.”
“Shut up and follow me.” The Assassin remarks coldly as he approaches the front door. Joey’s eyes grow wide. He is stunned that his friend is going for the front door. Despite this, Joey quickly scrambles to catch up.
“Are you crazy?!”
“What’s wrong?” Clyde smirks, showing some emotion for the first time on this trip. “I thought this was just…my sister?”
“Yes but…” Joey shakes his head “...the way you talk about her, she seems dangerous.”
“I’ll protect you.”
“I don’t find that comforting, dude.”
“Trust me, you are safe.” He motions with his arms to the right and left. “Look around you, Joseph. Isn’t it odd that someone like my sister…as wealthy as she is, with her own criminal connections…that she doesn’t have some form of security presence on her property?”
“Uh…well yeah…”
“And do you not find that this property seems to be too…quiet? Too empty?”
“I suppose.” Joey shrugs his shoulders.
“Trust me. We’re fine.” He reaches for the door knob. He half-expects the door to be locked. Surely Lilith Sutter would at least lock her property up. Yet, even this minor security is seemingly ignored. This fact does bother The Assassin a little but he doesn’t let it show. The last thing he needs is for Joey to freak out any more than he already is.
“I don’t think we should go inside.” Joey says. “I don’t wanna get busted for breaking and entering.”
“Shut up!” Clyde exclaims. “This isn’t breaking and entering…this is my sister’s home. I am family.”
The Assassin crosses the threshold into the home. Joey reluctantly follows him inside. They find that the inside is even more exquisite and luxurious than the outside. Lilith Sutter’s wealth is indeed astounding to look at. Sutter seems to be more determined than ever. Joey, on the other hand, is still very nervous.
“So, uh, what now?”
“Split up and search the house.” Clyde remarks in a matter-of-fact tone. Joey looks on curiously.
“Search for what?” He shrugs his shoulders. “I still have no clue why you drug me out here for.”
“I told you, I need backup.” Sutter remarks. “Your word for backing me up is you get to have whatever you find in this home.”
“Wait…” He furrows his brow out of confusion “...you want me to steal from your sister?”
“I don’t give a damn about her.” Sutter says with venom in his voice. “She is very wealthy and has very priceless items in her possession. Consider this your reward, Joseph.”
“Great!” Joey seems to finally be at ease. The idea of making some quick cash off of a heist does intrigue this common criminal. “What about you? You gonna rob her blind too? Is this what this is about?”
“No…” Sutter chuckles “...it’s funny, Joseph, you said in all of our past schemes that YOU were the brains and I was but merely the muscle. Yet you cannot see the bigger picture here. You only see materialistic wealth.”
“So if you’re not here for money, what are you here for?”
“None of your business.” Sutter growls angrily. “Just go claim your reward and be on your way.”
“Ye…yes sir.” Joey quickly turns and walks away, deeper into the house. The Assassin is partly glad that he is gone. He no longer has to put up with Joey’s nonsense. Now he can focus on the real task at hand which is to find his sister. Ever since he learned about Lilith’s involvement in the shooting death of Archie Van Stanton, Clyde’s half-brother, Clyde has been desperate to track her down and get revenge, not just for Archie’s sake but for Melinda’s sake. Melinda may be Clyde’s girlfriend now but she was Archie’s fiance at the time of the shooting and she got caught in the crossfire.
Revenge, however, has proven elusive as The Assassin has been unable to find his sister. This in and of itself is a rather odd circumstance. Lilith, at one point, was making her presence felt in Clyde’s life frequently. At one point, Lilith wanted Clyde to find her, to talk to her. Lilith wanted Clyde to join her in her criminal empire. Now, the one time Sutter actually wants to find his sister, she is nowhere to be found. This is why he is here tonight. He has taken the initiative. He is here on her turf hoping to find her. Unfortunately, as empty as this place seems to be, he may have just missed her.
Nevertheless, he is going to try and that search brings him down the hall and into the first open room he sees; he enters and he finds that it is a bedroom. The bedroom was expansive, almost too large for comfort, with high ceilings from which hung an elaborate chandelier, its crystals dulled by dust and time. The bed itself was a four-poster affair, draped in silk sheets the color of oxblood, the headboard carved from what looked like rosewood. Nothing was out of place, no shoes kicked aside, no clutter, no signs of life. Yet the room felt inhabited, somehow. As if its owner had only just stepped out to fetch something from another wing. As luxurious as this is, Clyde surmises that this is his sister’s room. Sutter’s eyes scanned the space with methodical intent. He moved toward the writing desk first; an elaborate piece of craftsmanship with gilded inlay and leather trim. The drawers slid open without protest. Inside: a selection of embossed stationery, an ivory fountain pen in its case, and a small black notebook sealed shut with a red ribbon. He examined the notebook briefly, fingers brushing the ribbon but not untying it. Not yet. He moved on. To the armoire next; eight feet tall and smelling faintly of cedar. It opened to reveal row after row of precisely hung clothing. Evening gowns. Cashmere robes. Crisp shirts arranged by color. Beneath them, a pair of antique leather suitcases and a lockbox. Sutter crouched, opened the smaller case. Jewelry, expensive but impersonal. The kind of cold, inherited wealth that sat heavy around a throat but meant nothing to the wearer.
“Are we looking for something specific or just casing the place?” This whisper startles Sutter. He turns to find Joey is there.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” He demands.
“Sorry.” He shrugs. “I was just curious.”
“Don’t be curious. It’s hazardous to your health.”
He crossed the room to a bookshelf built into the wall, dark mahogany filled with tomes bound in leather and vellum. Some were first editions—rare volumes that would make any collector weep. But tucked between two thick law books, almost deliberately hidden, was a small folder of loose pages bound with a paperclip. Sutter slid it out, flipped through the contents. Then, tucked behind the final sheet, he found it; a note. A single piece of thick cream stationery, folded in half. His name was written across the front in slanted black ink: Clyde.
“I knew you would find out eventually, dear brother. I was hoping it wouldn’t be this soon and I had hoped you would find out from me and not from someone else. Yes, I found out about your friend nosing around in my business and knew that it would not be long until you learned of my involvement in the death of Archie Van Stanton. Believe me, dear brother, I was going to tell you all about it, but I planned to wait until you were ready. The fact is that you are not ready. You are still blinded by emotion and that emotion will only lead you to losing control. You found this letter because you wanted to find me and, no doubt, kill me in retribution for the Van Stanton kid and that whore of a girlfriend of yours. I have no desire to die today so I have taken a leave of absence. But I am not done with you. I will return when you are calm and ready to talk.”
Sutter wads up the letter and tosses it to the floor. He emits a low growl under his breath. Joey is still thoroughly confused.
“What was that?”
“You idiot!” Sutter grabs Joey by the throat and slams him against a wall.
“What?! What’d I do?!”
“You were lazy! You were reckless!” Clyde snaps angrily. “Lilith knew what you were doing and she left town!”
“Hey, man, I did my best!”
“You are a fool…” he reluctantly lets go of Joey “...this entire trip you have been whining and complaining about your safety. Now your safety is truly in jeopardy and even I cannot help you. My sister knows of your existence and that you helped me. You have made yourself a target.”
“Wait…what?!”
“You are a bloody fool.” Clyde shakes his head. “It would be advisable if you lay low for the foreseeable future and pray that my sister does not find you.”
“What about you?” Joey asks. “What are you going to do now?”
“I WAS going to kill my sister. Right here, tonight, I had planned to end her.” He shakes her head. “Now she’s still on the loose and is still a threat. But I am not without a pathway to justice. I can still get justice for my half-brother and for my beloved.” Sutter bends down and picks up the wadded up piece of paper.
“That letter…” Joey begins, pointing to it. Clyde nods his head.
“Yes. It is my sister’s confession.” He smirks. “Tonight was not a total loss. At least now I have some leverage over her.”
![[Image: XJiTNy0.png]](https://i.imgur.com/XJiTNy0.png)
Career Achievements
MWE Television Champion 2x
MWE Riot Champion 1x
GCW World Tag Team Champion 1x
SCW Television Champion 1x
MWA World Tag Team Champion 2x