Chris Lawler vs. Kimberly Williams

[The Matt]

2 of 2
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December 1st, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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Kimberly Williams had never quite mastered the art of sitting still, and the living room around her reflected that restless, eccentric energy in a way no interior designer could have planned. The late afternoon Boston light filtered through the tall windows, softened by sheer curtains that glowed a faint amber as the sun dipped behind neighboring brownstones. Shadows stretched across the hardwood floor in long, warm ribbons, brushing against the scattered history of her day, a day that included half-read books splayed on their spines, a denim jacket thrown across the arm of a chair, a mug with the remnants of some experimental tea she had brewed hours earlier. Her eclectic tastes left splashes of color in unexpected pockets: a crooked painting that she swore looked better slightly askew, a bright knitted throw draped over the back of the couch, and the modestly large penguin plushie named Wasley seated with an almost dignified slouch beside a stack of journals. Near the far wall, the steady, soft sound of movement came from a wire hamster cage set atop a polished side table. Inside, Caligula, her tiny golden-brown hamster with a tyrant’s name and a consistently bewildered temperament, busied himself with rearranging his bedding for the third time that hour. His wheel squeaked in a rhythm that had somehow become part of the home’s ambient soundtrack. Kimberly often said it helped her think. Tommy insisted it was driving him insane. The wheel squeaked on anyway.

Tommy Wasley sat anchored on the opposite end of the couch from Kimberly, his broad shoulders nearly dwarfing the cushions beneath him. His beard, impressive and unruly in a way that mirrored his gruff charm, caught the warm light as he leaned back, forearms crossed over his chest in a posture that looked relaxed but felt protective. He had the kind of physical presence that made any room seem smaller; not cramped, but held together, grounded. Beside him, the penguin plushie seemed almost comically loyal, like a silent, oversized chaperone. Kimberly’s red hair, untamed in its own expressive way, caught the light whenever she moved, sending copper flashes across the room. She was perched on the floor at the moment, legs crossed, as if she’d simply dropped there mid thought. The glossy surface of the coffee table beside her reflected her concentration as she leaned over a disorganized notebook, its pages filled with a mosaic of scribbles, underlines, doodles, and half formed ideas. A loose strand brushed her cheek every time she tilted her head, and she absently pushed it away, unaware of the small streak of ink she’d smudged across her hand earlier. Tommy watched her with that familiar blend of affection and resignation, his posture steady while the room seemed to hum with quiet motion. Even stillness around The Woman Scorned felt temporary, as though the energy she radiated simply paused to take a breath.

“This sucks…” Kim motions to Caligula “...even Caligula is upset.”

“Caligula is always upset.” Tommy chuckles.

“He’s only upset because I won’t let him go to that stripper joint across town.” Kim points out.

“And what are YOU upset about, Kimmy?”

“Who me?” Kim rolls her eyes. “Oh, just the same old same old…”

“Shot of Adrenaline.”

“Exactly!” Kimberly exclaims. “That stupid tournament doesn’t seem like it will ever end! And I swear to God if I make it to the semi-finals, I will be sooooo pissed…”

“Kim.”

“I don’t want the Adrenaline Championship! I want to be Underground Champion or World Champion. This Adrenaline Tournament is pointless! Now I have to fight Chrissy Poo Lawler?”

“Kim!”

“Huh?”

“First, babe, you already have a path to the SCW World Title. You are facing Syren in a number one contender’s match.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” Kim rolls her eyes.

“AND, there’s more to the tournament than just a championship.” Tommy points out. “You know, the more you win, the farther you make it, you could easily open some eyes. You could earn a shot at one of the Underground Title, the one you actually want. Know what I mean?”

“I get it.” Kim sighs. “I’ve heard that same song and dance from my mom already. I get tired of hearing it. Just like I told her, you don’t have to worry. I will give it my all, I will try to win, I will maim Lawler, I will crucify him, I will…”

“Crucify him?” Tommy asks, arching his brow.

“Too much?”

“Just a little.” Tommy chuckles.

“Too bad. I gotta do something to keep my mind occupied. This silly Shot of Adrenaline Tournament isn’t the only thing that’s bothering me right now.” She turns and looks up at Tommy. “You know, I think we should move?”

Tommy looks startled. His eyes grow wide. This news came out of nowhere and he isn’t sure how to react.

“Uh, Kimmy…” his voice trails off “...you want to move?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with it?”

“Kinda.” Tommy remarks. “I mean, why do you want to move? I thought we were doing well here. Karen Lassiter is gone, she’s not gonna bother you. Camilla Aldridge is in police custody, she’s not going to bother you. Why would you want to leave?”

“Look…” she sighs “...you’re right, Karen and Cammy are gone. That’s a good thing, I suppose. But it’s like I told mom, Grant Vito is still at large. Plus I seriously doubt he and Cammy were the only members of the Athenian Fellowship involved with the drug pushing. I brought them down, I put an end to that plan, and I brought their organization to ruin. These wealthy weirdos may want to get some revenge.”

“You have a point.” Tommy admits. He sighs and shakes his head. “Alright, I suppose we can move. But where?”

“Well I have been thinking about it and, honestly, we should move somewhere that is a bit of a downgrade from here.”

“A downgrade?” Tommy asks. Kim nods her head.

“Yeah, because honestly, all of this…the upscale community, the wealthy well-to-do weirdos we live with…it just isn’t me. I honestly never felt truly at home here.”

“Never?”

“Never.” Kim confirms with a shake of her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you seemed to enjoy it here so much.” Kim sighs. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Kimmy,” Tommy smiles warmly “I will be happy living anywhere as long as I am living with you.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course.” He nods his head. A knowing smirk forms on Kimberly’s face.

“Good…that’s good to hear…because I think I know the perfect place to live…”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“My old place!” She exclaims happily.

“Wait…the place that you yourself described as a dump?” He chuckles. “Is there even a place for me to sleep? It’s awfully small.”

“Oh don’t worry, Tommy.” She winks. “I can always add onto it.”

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On Camera
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Kimberly Williams stood on the uneven walkway like a splash of color dropped onto a grayscale photograph. Her bright red hair, untamed, wavy, and forever refusing to behave, caught the weak afternoon light and burned against the dreary backdrop. The neighborhood around her had long since lost whatever charm it might once have claimed; the streets were cracked and patched, trash gathered in windblown clusters near the curbs, and the air held that peculiar heaviness found only in places the city had left behind decades ago. Here, the sounds of Boston were different. Car engines rumbled with a rougher timbre, dogs barked with territorial insistence, and somewhere in the distance a siren moaned through the maze of old row houses and graffiti tagged alleyways. Behind her stood the house; a sagging structure that seemed to lean inward on itself, as though exhausted from years spent resisting gravity and neglect. The siding, once white, was now a patchwork of gray rot and peeling flakes that curled like old parchment. Half the shutters hung crooked, the others long gone. A single windowpane had been repaired with cardboard and duct tape, and the front step canted just enough to force anyone climbing it to adjust their balance. It was a place that looked not merely abandoned but offended at the idea of habitation. Even the weeds growing through the cracked walkway seemed reluctant, pushing up in thin, brittle strands instead of thick, determined clusters. Kimberly held her penguin plushie, Wasley, tucked snugly under one arm. Kimberly’s clothes contrasted sharply with the bleak landscape: worn denim jeans ripped at the knees, scuffed combat boots that had seen too many impulsive adventures, and a fitted black jacket whose pockets bulged with odds and ends she carried on instinct.

The air smelled faintly of damp wood and stale exhaust. A gust of wind rattled a loose gutter, creating a hollow metallic clatter that echoed down the empty street. A discarded takeout cup rolled across the asphalt, bumping against a crumbled curb before coming to rest. Overhead, clouds gathered with slow, heavy determination, signaling an approaching storm that matched the mood of the landscape but not the woman standing boldly in the middle of it. Her breath made a small plume in the cool air. She shifted her weight slightly, gripping Wasley a bit tighter, the plushie’s soft flipper brushing her hip. She was ready, steady, focused, and lit from within by that unplaceable spark that made her both hard to predict and impossible to ignore.

“Is it that time again already? That magical time when I have to stand here all nice and pretty and pretend to care about this Shot of Adrenaline Tournament and the Adrenaline Championship? I’m not diminishing the importance or prestige of the Adrenaline Title or even this tournament. I’m just saying that this psychopath right here has other goals. I have different plans that this tournament is only serving as an obstacle in my path. This tournament is only delaying me from getting what I really want.”

“I REALLY want to win back the SCW Underground Championship for an unprecedented record breaking SIXTH TIME to cement myself as the greatest Underground fighter of all time. The Monster Machine already agreed to give me a title shot but I can’t take what is rightfully mine because I keep getting put in tournament matches. I am also one title away from Supreme Championship status, and that means I have to win the SCW World Championship. Now Syren thinks that the universe revolves around her and that she should be next in line but last I checked she did absolutely nothing to deserve the next crack at the title. Now whether its Cid Turner or James Evans, one of them will need a new challenger and baby, I am more than willing to put them through hell and back to win the championship. But this stupid tournament keeps getting in the way. See, I could be out there harassing Enigma and the little Underground contenders or I could be out there harassing Cid Turner and Jimbo Evans or maiming Syren and anyone else who might think they are worthy of a world title shot. Instead I have to focus my entire attention on the Shot of Adrenaline Tournament.” She points a finger at the camera.

“I have to focus on you, Chris Lawler.” The Woman Scorned laughs nastily. “Y’know, I’m sure you’ll probably be full of righteous indignation, all up in arms about how you care oh so much for this tournament and the Adrenaline Title while it appears as if I am dismissing it all as if it were nothing. Before you even go there let me make something abundantly clear, Chrissy Poo. Me and Wasley here most certainly understand that this Shot of Adrenaline Tournament is very important for more reasons than just that shiny piece of tin Dorkster Grant holds. See, if and WHEN I beat you on Breakdown, and then go on to run the table and win the whole damn tournament, I will have done far more than just simply earned a shot at the Adrenaline Title. I will done far more than simply win the Adrenaline Title itself. I will have won a prestigious tournament. I will have beaten some of the greatest collection of talent this company has to offer. With that kind of achievement I can stake my claim to just about anything I want.”

“There will be no way anyone can deny me the first crack at The Monster Machine’s Underground Title, not even Old MacDonald who thinks she can name a challenger just because she said so. And there will be NO ONE who can deny the fact that I belong in any title conversation I want, no one can deny that I am among the best to do it in SCW.” The Queen of the Death Match snickers and shakes her head. “So don’t worry your pretty little head, Chrissy Poo, you will most definitely get the very best of Kimberly Williams on Breakdown. Not because I give a damn about this tournament or the title it represents, but because this tournament represents an obstacle standing between me and what I want and I will completely and utterly destroy it in order to get what I want.”

“Now I get you, Chrissy Poo, I understand you more than you can possibly imagine. People like Dorkster Grant and Juneau McFrosty and others look down on you, they think people like you don’t belong in the upper echelon of SCW anymore. I get that because people gave me that same crap. Last year people never saw me as a serious world title contender, they saw me as just comic relief.” She snickers. “Now I do enjoy entertaining my zillions upon zillions of Kimmymaniacs out there, I do enjoy having a good time at the expense of my enemies and, likely, I will give you quite the headache on Breakdown to the delight of my beloved fans. But make no mistake about it, Chrissy Poo, much like you are far better than what Juneau McFrosty gives you credit for, I am far better than what everyone gives me credit for. Last year I was looked at as a joke, now I stand here having won the Valiant World Championship, the GCW World Championship, and in SCW I am one championship away from Supreme Championship status, and I did it all in 2025. Can I be a clown? Can I entertain? Oh yeah! But am I really good at what I do? Damn right I am and what I do best is cripple and maim anyone who stands in my way of what I want!”

“This Shot of Adrenaline Tournament isn’t my cup of tea but I know that I need to win it if only to make a statement; I am among the very best to do it in SCW and I will not be stopped, I will get what I want, and you, Chrissy Poo, are just the next victim. It may not be what you want to hear but it is the reality you face, pal. One day you will silence idiots like Juneau McFrosty. You will silence the doubters and critics the same way I have. It just won’t happen on Breakdown and it won’t happen at my expense. I won’t let it happen.”