08-27-2025, 05:23 AM
2 of 2
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August 16th, 2025
Roslin, Scotland
Off Camera
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The morning air in Roslin, Scotland carried the damp chill of late summer. Clyde Sutter’s broad frame filled the sidewalk as he strode toward the red-bricked building that housed The Julia Foundation. He looked every bit the man accustomed to heavy lifting, his shoulders squared and his chest set forward with the kind of quiet confidence that drew the eyes of passersby. His long black hair, tied loosely at the nape of his neck, brushed against the collar of his fitted leather jacket. The coat itself had seen better days, faint creases and softened edges betraying years of wear, but on him it carried the same rugged dignity as his weathered boots. Beneath it, his dark shirt clung to a muscular torso carved by discipline more than vanity, a frame that gave the impression he could hold up the world if asked. Clyde’s piercing eyes scanned the block, noting the faint smell of exhaust that lingered on the breeze, the distant sound of traffic humming through the city, and the sharp cries of gulls circling above the canals. The Julia Foundation stood out here, not for grandeur, but for its warmth. The building was modest in size, a refurbished community hall with high windows trimmed in white, the kind that let the light in generously even on overcast days. A hand-painted sign over the door declared its name: The Julia Foundation. The words were framed by a mural of open hands painted by local volunteers.
Through the glass door Clyde could see the stirrings of the morning routine. Volunteers moved about inside, carrying crates of food or refilling urns of steaming tea. The scent of coffee and warm bread drifted faintly outward each time someone entered or exited, pulling in the city’s most vulnerable with a promise of sustenance and safety. Beyond the reception desk, the main hall opened wide, with folding tables and chairs neatly arranged in rows, some already filled by the weary faces of those who sought refuge here. On one wall, bulletin boards overflowed with handwritten notes, job postings, and recovery meeting schedules; small signals of lives struggling to stitch themselves back together. At the heart of it all was Julia Braddock. She moved with grace between the tables, offering a smile here, a reassuring hand on a shoulder there. Her blonde hair, styled neatly, caught the overhead lights in soft glints of gold, and her attire stood out among the simple clothes of the staff: a cream blouse with delicate lace at the cuffs, paired with a flowing skirt that carried a quiet elegance. Everything about her presence radiated a gentle strength, an aura that seemed to lift the atmosphere of the room just by existing. She was not aloof, despite her polished appearance; her heels clicked softly on the floor as she bent down to speak with a hunched man nursing a chipped mug of tea, her expression one of genuine concern.
Clyde squared his shoulders once more, brushing a hand through his dark hair before stepping inside. The warmth of the hall enveloped him at once, both in temperature and in spirit. Volunteers glanced his way briefly, some curious at the imposing figure in their midst, before returning to their duties. His boots echoed against the tiled floor as he crossed the threshold into Julia’s world, each step carrying him closer to the woman he had come to see. Julia straightened from her conversation and turned, her eyes immediately finding him with a flicker of recognition. She smoothed her skirt almost unconsciously, her smile softening into something more familial.
“Clyde…” her voice trails off as she scans him up and down. Her voice is polite and warm, friendly even, but Clyde can tell that there is a sense of fraud. He can tell she is faking it. But he lets her continue regardless. “...what a pleasant surprise.”
“Ms. Braddock, you really are quite the actress.” He chuckles, a clear shot taken at his future family member. Braddock shakes her head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do not have to pretend, Ms. Braddock. You do not have to act like you are happy to see me.” The Assassin shakes his head. “I know full well that I am not exactly the most well liked and welcomed person by the Braddock family. Your sister doesn’t trust me to treat her daughter well and I suspect you do not trust me, either. Am I correct?”
There is a tense and awkward pause as the two lock eyes. Finally Julia Braddock sighs and nods her head.
“Fine, you’re right.” She shakes her head. “I don’t trust you. And you’re right, outside of my niece Melinda, no Braddock really trusts you at all.”
“See? Isn’t honesty truly the best policy?” Sutter asks with a grin.
“Forgive me for trying to be polite.” She rolls her eyes. “But seriously, Clyde, if you know how far down on the totem pole you rank in this family tree, why are you here?” She places her hands on her hips, glaring at him judgmentally. “I admit, I was surprised to see you bringing yourself here.”
“I need your help.”
“You need my help?” Julia snickers. “Now that is rich. You asking a Braddock for help is very rich!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you and I worked together, Ms. Braddock.” The Assassin remarks. “If you recall, we worked together to get your niece…my beloved Melinda…the rehabilitation she needed and to keep a secret from her mother.”
“I do remember. But I did that for Melinda, not for you.” Julia states coldly.
“Yes, I remember.” Sutter nods his head. “And what I need from you could be necessary to protect Melinda.”
This statement instantly gets a rise out of Julia Braddock, who arches her brow out of curiosity. She sighs and nods her head.
“Fine…follow me to my office.”
The Assassin grins. Julia turns and marches down the hall with Clyde bringing up the rear. The volunteers and other staff watch curiously, wondering why this man is here, what business he has with Julia Braddock. Sutter ignores their curious gazes. He has far more important things on his mind right now. Braddock and Sutter finally reaches the end of the hall and an office door. The blonde opens the door and steps inside. The Assassin follows her inside and shuts the door behind him. The office itself is plain decor with simple cream colored walls with no windows, only a few small chairs, and a large wood brown oak desk with a simple computer. Braddock sits down at the desk. Clyde sits down as well.
“So what do you want, Clyde?”
“Information.” He states pointedly. “Information about a particular individual who might have come here to seek treatment or help of some sort, help that your lovely organization provides.”
“I see.” Julia sighs. “There’s two problems here, Clyde. First of all, the information you seek is likely confidential and me telling you would be illegal.”
“I understand.”
“And do you understand that you are asking me, a Braddock who has problems with you, to do something illegal to help you?”
“Yes, I understand.” He nods his head. “But as I said, this is about Melinda, not me.”
“Is she in trouble?” Julia asks. Clyde shakes his head.
“No, but I might be in trouble and you should know that if I am in trouble, if I am being targeted by someone with a grudge, your niece could get caught in the crossfire. It wouldn’t be the first time she got caught in the crossfire due to simple guilt by association. Ask the Van Stanton family.”
The Van Stanton name is a callback to a bad memory for the Braddock family. Melinda dated Archie Van Stanton who was the target of a drive by shooting and Melinda was caught in the crossfire. Julia sighs and nods her head.
“You made your point. What do you want to know?”
“I need to know about an individual named Callum Slater. He was a student at your father’s wrestling school at the same time as I attended.”
“Let me guess.” Julia smirks. “You beat him up.”
“I injured him, yes.” Sutter nods his head. “I need to know if he stopped by your foundation to receive help after he was injured.”
“Let me check.” Julia turns to the computer and starts keying away. It isn’t long before she stops typing and nods her head. “Yes, a man by that name did stop by here for some help.”
“Where is he now?”
“Now that is confidential information.” Julia turns and glares at him. “So keep it to yourself. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Fine.” She sighs. “The Julia Foundation did help him get a job after his recovery. The last time I heard from him, he had a job working in a restaurant in London.” She takes out a pen and paper. She scribbles something down and hands it down to Clyde. “There’s the address.”
“Good.” Sutter says. “Thank you, Ms. Braddock.”
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August 27th, 2025
Orlando, Florida
On Camera
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Clyde Sutter stood tall and commanding in front of the Kia Center. The warm Orlando evening breeze caught strands of his long black hair, making it shift across his shoulders as if it had a life of its own. Fate’s Chosen Assassin wore a tailored navy suit framed his muscular build, the jacket fitting snugly across his broad chest and tapering neatly at the waist. The crisp white dress shirt beneath was open at the collar. His black leather shoes were polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the neon glow from the arena lights overhead. Beside him, Melinda Braddock was every bit the vision of elegance. Her long blonde hair cascaded down in loose, soft waves, the golden hue catching and shimmering under the arena’s bright facade lighting. She wore a flowing sapphire-blue dress, the color deep and striking against her fair complexion. The dress hugged her form in all the right places before falling gracefully just past her knees, the hem shifting lightly whenever the evening breeze stirred. Around her neck was a simple silver pendant, understated but radiant in the glow of the city lights. Her heels added a touch of sophistication, though she leaned with ease against Clyde’s arm, comfortable and steady in his presence. The Kia Center loomed behind them, its modern design a beacon in downtown Orlando. The massive glass panels glowed with reflections of the evening sky, tinged pink and orange as the sun set.
“We say it time and again, we preach it with our words and illustrate it with our actions. What else must myself and my man, my Assassin, do to prove to each and every one of you that Fate is not just real but it is oh so very active?” Melinda asks with a sinister grin on her face. “Adam Brock thought he was in control of his Fate but where is he now? Gone. Ryan LeCavalier thought she controlled her Fate but what happened when she took on The Assassin? She wants nothing more to do with him. Chance Owens and Kelsai Adamson thought that they could take Fate into their own hands but look at what happened to them at Rise To Greatness. One after another, Fate chooses its victims and those victims fall. When will you accept the pure unadulterated fact that Fate is in control? Fate writes the script, we are all but merely actors and actresses in its play, and when your part in its play has come to an end, you will either exit the stage willingly or Fate’s Chosen Assassin will take you out by force.” The Third Generation Goddess motions to herself then to Sutter. “It was destined by Fate that I would win my Rise To Greatness debut. It was destined by Fate that my man would make his return at Fatal Fortunes and take this company by storm, destroying anyone and everyone who dares to get in his way. Everything that has happened has been by Fate’s design and whether you like it or not, and regardless of how long it takes, the script has been written, the final scene of this play has been written, and it ends with myself and The Assassin standing alone as the most dominant force in Supreme Championship Wrestling. Rise To Greatness was just a mere preview of coming attractions.” Melinda snickers. The Assassin leans over and plants a kiss on her lips.
“I could not have said it better myself, my love.” Sutter straightens back up and turns to face the camera. “Things happen for a reason and that reason is Fate. Mr. Brock, Ms. LeCavalier, Mr. Owens, and Ms. Adamson never could grasp this. Once, a long time ago in a different lifetime, I did not understand it. Once I, like so many of you watching this, believed that I was in control of my own destiny. I believed that my rage, my anger, and brute violence could be used to carve out my own path. I was a hot headed man back then who made quick, very bad decisions; decisions that nearly ruined my career. Then my eyes were opened to Fate. I realized that Fate was in control. Thus I channeled that anger, that rage, and that violence into a more productive manner. I used it to do Fate’s bidding. Since then I began to win championships all over the country. Since then I got signed to a new SCW contract and won my first SCW championship. Now I am making more money than ever before and I have Fate to thank for it.” Fate’s Chosen Assassin points at the camera.
“Ms. Strader, you remind me a great deal of the man I used to be; hot headed, quick to anger, little thought behind the actions you take. Now by all means, Ms. Strader, do not mistake this as a slight or disrespect. I watched with great interest your own road to Rise To Greatness. You targeted one of the most decorated athletes in this company’s history…you targeted Syren.” He claps his hands slowly. “And I applaud you for your grit and determination in going after a multi-time world champion like her. I applaud you for targeting someone who will no doubt go down in history as one of the best to ever do it in SCW. You pushed Syren to her limit. You had quite the performance on the show of shows, Ms. Strader. Alas you failed in your quest to put her down. What could have been a breakthrough moment for you turned into a failure on the grandest stage. And to what do we attribute this failure?”
“Fate.” Melinda says simply with a knowing grin. Sutter nods his head.
“Indeed, my love. Fate wrote the script for Rise To Greatness. Fate looked at you, Fate looked at Syren, and Fate decided that you were not worthy of victory. Second question, Ms. Strader, is what did you do that made Fate frown upon you? What made you so unworthy in the eyes of Fate? The answer is simple; you did not target Syren in order to prove yourself as one of the best ever. You targeted Syren out of a hot-headed, temperamental decision to seek vengeance over a slight. Syren damaged your beloved motorcycle and you wanted to get your pound of flesh.” The Assassin chuckles. “You wanted revenge, Syren wanted to earn a world title shot. That is what made you two different on that night and that is why you lost. It really is as simple as that. Now I understand your position, Ms. Strader, because I was once you. I was once that hot headed man, quick to anger, quick to violence, knowing only vengeance. But I have changed and since that change I became far more successful and my future here in SCW is brighter than ever before.” He points a finger at the camera, as if pointing at Strader herself.
“Your future, Ms. Strader, is looking very bleak, especially tomorrow night on Breakdown when you come face to face with Fate itself. It is painfully clear to myself and anyone else watching that you still haven’t learned your lesson. You still are too hot headed, too temperamental to think clearly. Those character flaws will be your downfall. You failed to think clearly at Rise To Greatness and you failed. I have no doubt in my mind that you are watching this, you are hearing my words, and the anger inside you is ready to boil over. In fact, I am counting on it. I am counting on you being angry and thus making yet another bad judgment call, one I will exploit.”
“Clyde Sutter is on a different path than you are, Meghan Strader.” Melinda Braddock chimes in. “He recognized his flaws and corrected them. He recognizes that Fate is in control and has accepted it. You fail to recognize your flaws and thus are unable to correct them. You, like all of the others, foolishly believe that you are in control of your own destiny, you foolishly believe that Fate has no say in your career when, in actuality, Fate is in total control of everything. Fate has written your endgame, Strader, and your endgame will be executed tomorrow night at the hands of Fate’s Chosen Assassin.”
“It will truly be my honor and privilege to be the one who gets to put an end to you tomorrow night, Ms. Strader. Just please, take some advice from me, and accept the reality that Fate has dictated your path.” Clyde sneers at the camera. “Your Fate is sealed.”
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August 16th, 2025
Roslin, Scotland
Off Camera
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The morning air in Roslin, Scotland carried the damp chill of late summer. Clyde Sutter’s broad frame filled the sidewalk as he strode toward the red-bricked building that housed The Julia Foundation. He looked every bit the man accustomed to heavy lifting, his shoulders squared and his chest set forward with the kind of quiet confidence that drew the eyes of passersby. His long black hair, tied loosely at the nape of his neck, brushed against the collar of his fitted leather jacket. The coat itself had seen better days, faint creases and softened edges betraying years of wear, but on him it carried the same rugged dignity as his weathered boots. Beneath it, his dark shirt clung to a muscular torso carved by discipline more than vanity, a frame that gave the impression he could hold up the world if asked. Clyde’s piercing eyes scanned the block, noting the faint smell of exhaust that lingered on the breeze, the distant sound of traffic humming through the city, and the sharp cries of gulls circling above the canals. The Julia Foundation stood out here, not for grandeur, but for its warmth. The building was modest in size, a refurbished community hall with high windows trimmed in white, the kind that let the light in generously even on overcast days. A hand-painted sign over the door declared its name: The Julia Foundation. The words were framed by a mural of open hands painted by local volunteers.
Through the glass door Clyde could see the stirrings of the morning routine. Volunteers moved about inside, carrying crates of food or refilling urns of steaming tea. The scent of coffee and warm bread drifted faintly outward each time someone entered or exited, pulling in the city’s most vulnerable with a promise of sustenance and safety. Beyond the reception desk, the main hall opened wide, with folding tables and chairs neatly arranged in rows, some already filled by the weary faces of those who sought refuge here. On one wall, bulletin boards overflowed with handwritten notes, job postings, and recovery meeting schedules; small signals of lives struggling to stitch themselves back together. At the heart of it all was Julia Braddock. She moved with grace between the tables, offering a smile here, a reassuring hand on a shoulder there. Her blonde hair, styled neatly, caught the overhead lights in soft glints of gold, and her attire stood out among the simple clothes of the staff: a cream blouse with delicate lace at the cuffs, paired with a flowing skirt that carried a quiet elegance. Everything about her presence radiated a gentle strength, an aura that seemed to lift the atmosphere of the room just by existing. She was not aloof, despite her polished appearance; her heels clicked softly on the floor as she bent down to speak with a hunched man nursing a chipped mug of tea, her expression one of genuine concern.
Clyde squared his shoulders once more, brushing a hand through his dark hair before stepping inside. The warmth of the hall enveloped him at once, both in temperature and in spirit. Volunteers glanced his way briefly, some curious at the imposing figure in their midst, before returning to their duties. His boots echoed against the tiled floor as he crossed the threshold into Julia’s world, each step carrying him closer to the woman he had come to see. Julia straightened from her conversation and turned, her eyes immediately finding him with a flicker of recognition. She smoothed her skirt almost unconsciously, her smile softening into something more familial.
“Clyde…” her voice trails off as she scans him up and down. Her voice is polite and warm, friendly even, but Clyde can tell that there is a sense of fraud. He can tell she is faking it. But he lets her continue regardless. “...what a pleasant surprise.”
“Ms. Braddock, you really are quite the actress.” He chuckles, a clear shot taken at his future family member. Braddock shakes her head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do not have to pretend, Ms. Braddock. You do not have to act like you are happy to see me.” The Assassin shakes his head. “I know full well that I am not exactly the most well liked and welcomed person by the Braddock family. Your sister doesn’t trust me to treat her daughter well and I suspect you do not trust me, either. Am I correct?”
There is a tense and awkward pause as the two lock eyes. Finally Julia Braddock sighs and nods her head.
“Fine, you’re right.” She shakes her head. “I don’t trust you. And you’re right, outside of my niece Melinda, no Braddock really trusts you at all.”
“See? Isn’t honesty truly the best policy?” Sutter asks with a grin.
“Forgive me for trying to be polite.” She rolls her eyes. “But seriously, Clyde, if you know how far down on the totem pole you rank in this family tree, why are you here?” She places her hands on her hips, glaring at him judgmentally. “I admit, I was surprised to see you bringing yourself here.”
“I need your help.”
“You need my help?” Julia snickers. “Now that is rich. You asking a Braddock for help is very rich!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you and I worked together, Ms. Braddock.” The Assassin remarks. “If you recall, we worked together to get your niece…my beloved Melinda…the rehabilitation she needed and to keep a secret from her mother.”
“I do remember. But I did that for Melinda, not for you.” Julia states coldly.
“Yes, I remember.” Sutter nods his head. “And what I need from you could be necessary to protect Melinda.”
This statement instantly gets a rise out of Julia Braddock, who arches her brow out of curiosity. She sighs and nods her head.
“Fine…follow me to my office.”
The Assassin grins. Julia turns and marches down the hall with Clyde bringing up the rear. The volunteers and other staff watch curiously, wondering why this man is here, what business he has with Julia Braddock. Sutter ignores their curious gazes. He has far more important things on his mind right now. Braddock and Sutter finally reaches the end of the hall and an office door. The blonde opens the door and steps inside. The Assassin follows her inside and shuts the door behind him. The office itself is plain decor with simple cream colored walls with no windows, only a few small chairs, and a large wood brown oak desk with a simple computer. Braddock sits down at the desk. Clyde sits down as well.
“So what do you want, Clyde?”
“Information.” He states pointedly. “Information about a particular individual who might have come here to seek treatment or help of some sort, help that your lovely organization provides.”
“I see.” Julia sighs. “There’s two problems here, Clyde. First of all, the information you seek is likely confidential and me telling you would be illegal.”
“I understand.”
“And do you understand that you are asking me, a Braddock who has problems with you, to do something illegal to help you?”
“Yes, I understand.” He nods his head. “But as I said, this is about Melinda, not me.”
“Is she in trouble?” Julia asks. Clyde shakes his head.
“No, but I might be in trouble and you should know that if I am in trouble, if I am being targeted by someone with a grudge, your niece could get caught in the crossfire. It wouldn’t be the first time she got caught in the crossfire due to simple guilt by association. Ask the Van Stanton family.”
The Van Stanton name is a callback to a bad memory for the Braddock family. Melinda dated Archie Van Stanton who was the target of a drive by shooting and Melinda was caught in the crossfire. Julia sighs and nods her head.
“You made your point. What do you want to know?”
“I need to know about an individual named Callum Slater. He was a student at your father’s wrestling school at the same time as I attended.”
“Let me guess.” Julia smirks. “You beat him up.”
“I injured him, yes.” Sutter nods his head. “I need to know if he stopped by your foundation to receive help after he was injured.”
“Let me check.” Julia turns to the computer and starts keying away. It isn’t long before she stops typing and nods her head. “Yes, a man by that name did stop by here for some help.”
“Where is he now?”
“Now that is confidential information.” Julia turns and glares at him. “So keep it to yourself. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Fine.” She sighs. “The Julia Foundation did help him get a job after his recovery. The last time I heard from him, he had a job working in a restaurant in London.” She takes out a pen and paper. She scribbles something down and hands it down to Clyde. “There’s the address.”
“Good.” Sutter says. “Thank you, Ms. Braddock.”
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August 27th, 2025
Orlando, Florida
On Camera
==========
Clyde Sutter stood tall and commanding in front of the Kia Center. The warm Orlando evening breeze caught strands of his long black hair, making it shift across his shoulders as if it had a life of its own. Fate’s Chosen Assassin wore a tailored navy suit framed his muscular build, the jacket fitting snugly across his broad chest and tapering neatly at the waist. The crisp white dress shirt beneath was open at the collar. His black leather shoes were polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the neon glow from the arena lights overhead. Beside him, Melinda Braddock was every bit the vision of elegance. Her long blonde hair cascaded down in loose, soft waves, the golden hue catching and shimmering under the arena’s bright facade lighting. She wore a flowing sapphire-blue dress, the color deep and striking against her fair complexion. The dress hugged her form in all the right places before falling gracefully just past her knees, the hem shifting lightly whenever the evening breeze stirred. Around her neck was a simple silver pendant, understated but radiant in the glow of the city lights. Her heels added a touch of sophistication, though she leaned with ease against Clyde’s arm, comfortable and steady in his presence. The Kia Center loomed behind them, its modern design a beacon in downtown Orlando. The massive glass panels glowed with reflections of the evening sky, tinged pink and orange as the sun set.
“We say it time and again, we preach it with our words and illustrate it with our actions. What else must myself and my man, my Assassin, do to prove to each and every one of you that Fate is not just real but it is oh so very active?” Melinda asks with a sinister grin on her face. “Adam Brock thought he was in control of his Fate but where is he now? Gone. Ryan LeCavalier thought she controlled her Fate but what happened when she took on The Assassin? She wants nothing more to do with him. Chance Owens and Kelsai Adamson thought that they could take Fate into their own hands but look at what happened to them at Rise To Greatness. One after another, Fate chooses its victims and those victims fall. When will you accept the pure unadulterated fact that Fate is in control? Fate writes the script, we are all but merely actors and actresses in its play, and when your part in its play has come to an end, you will either exit the stage willingly or Fate’s Chosen Assassin will take you out by force.” The Third Generation Goddess motions to herself then to Sutter. “It was destined by Fate that I would win my Rise To Greatness debut. It was destined by Fate that my man would make his return at Fatal Fortunes and take this company by storm, destroying anyone and everyone who dares to get in his way. Everything that has happened has been by Fate’s design and whether you like it or not, and regardless of how long it takes, the script has been written, the final scene of this play has been written, and it ends with myself and The Assassin standing alone as the most dominant force in Supreme Championship Wrestling. Rise To Greatness was just a mere preview of coming attractions.” Melinda snickers. The Assassin leans over and plants a kiss on her lips.
“I could not have said it better myself, my love.” Sutter straightens back up and turns to face the camera. “Things happen for a reason and that reason is Fate. Mr. Brock, Ms. LeCavalier, Mr. Owens, and Ms. Adamson never could grasp this. Once, a long time ago in a different lifetime, I did not understand it. Once I, like so many of you watching this, believed that I was in control of my own destiny. I believed that my rage, my anger, and brute violence could be used to carve out my own path. I was a hot headed man back then who made quick, very bad decisions; decisions that nearly ruined my career. Then my eyes were opened to Fate. I realized that Fate was in control. Thus I channeled that anger, that rage, and that violence into a more productive manner. I used it to do Fate’s bidding. Since then I began to win championships all over the country. Since then I got signed to a new SCW contract and won my first SCW championship. Now I am making more money than ever before and I have Fate to thank for it.” Fate’s Chosen Assassin points at the camera.
“Ms. Strader, you remind me a great deal of the man I used to be; hot headed, quick to anger, little thought behind the actions you take. Now by all means, Ms. Strader, do not mistake this as a slight or disrespect. I watched with great interest your own road to Rise To Greatness. You targeted one of the most decorated athletes in this company’s history…you targeted Syren.” He claps his hands slowly. “And I applaud you for your grit and determination in going after a multi-time world champion like her. I applaud you for targeting someone who will no doubt go down in history as one of the best to ever do it in SCW. You pushed Syren to her limit. You had quite the performance on the show of shows, Ms. Strader. Alas you failed in your quest to put her down. What could have been a breakthrough moment for you turned into a failure on the grandest stage. And to what do we attribute this failure?”
“Fate.” Melinda says simply with a knowing grin. Sutter nods his head.
“Indeed, my love. Fate wrote the script for Rise To Greatness. Fate looked at you, Fate looked at Syren, and Fate decided that you were not worthy of victory. Second question, Ms. Strader, is what did you do that made Fate frown upon you? What made you so unworthy in the eyes of Fate? The answer is simple; you did not target Syren in order to prove yourself as one of the best ever. You targeted Syren out of a hot-headed, temperamental decision to seek vengeance over a slight. Syren damaged your beloved motorcycle and you wanted to get your pound of flesh.” The Assassin chuckles. “You wanted revenge, Syren wanted to earn a world title shot. That is what made you two different on that night and that is why you lost. It really is as simple as that. Now I understand your position, Ms. Strader, because I was once you. I was once that hot headed man, quick to anger, quick to violence, knowing only vengeance. But I have changed and since that change I became far more successful and my future here in SCW is brighter than ever before.” He points a finger at the camera, as if pointing at Strader herself.
“Your future, Ms. Strader, is looking very bleak, especially tomorrow night on Breakdown when you come face to face with Fate itself. It is painfully clear to myself and anyone else watching that you still haven’t learned your lesson. You still are too hot headed, too temperamental to think clearly. Those character flaws will be your downfall. You failed to think clearly at Rise To Greatness and you failed. I have no doubt in my mind that you are watching this, you are hearing my words, and the anger inside you is ready to boil over. In fact, I am counting on it. I am counting on you being angry and thus making yet another bad judgment call, one I will exploit.”
“Clyde Sutter is on a different path than you are, Meghan Strader.” Melinda Braddock chimes in. “He recognized his flaws and corrected them. He recognizes that Fate is in control and has accepted it. You fail to recognize your flaws and thus are unable to correct them. You, like all of the others, foolishly believe that you are in control of your own destiny, you foolishly believe that Fate has no say in your career when, in actuality, Fate is in total control of everything. Fate has written your endgame, Strader, and your endgame will be executed tomorrow night at the hands of Fate’s Chosen Assassin.”
“It will truly be my honor and privilege to be the one who gets to put an end to you tomorrow night, Ms. Strader. Just please, take some advice from me, and accept the reality that Fate has dictated your path.” Clyde sneers at the camera. “Your Fate is sealed.”
![[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