12-16-2025, 02:31 PM
2 of 2
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On Camera
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The warehouse turned cold and metallic in winter. Rain had fallen in thin, relentless sheets all evening, drumming on the corrugated roof until the sound became a dull heartbeat inside the vast building. Water dripped through rusted seams overhead, striking the concrete in irregular, lonely taps that echoed like distant footsteps. Every few seconds a drop would hit a puddle and send out a faint ring of light from the single sodium lamp that still worked, high up among the rafters. The rest of the place was swallowed by shadow. Rows of broken pallets and collapsed shelving stretched away into blackness, skeletal ribs of a dead industry. The air tasted of wet iron. A faint chemical sweetness lingered too, the kind that clings to old cardboard and packing foam long after the goods are gone. No one had worked here in years. The windows were blinded by plywood and grime, and the great loading doors had been chained shut so long ago that rust had welded the links into a single reddish sculpture.
At the center of the empty floor, beneath the one working lamp, stood Clyde Sutter, The Harbinger of Fate. He did not move. He simply occupied the space as though the building had been waiting for him to arrive and give it purpose again. The cone of yellow light fell across the sharp angles of his face and left the rest of him half dissolved into darkness. Tall and built with the clean, economical strength of someone who had trained for years without ever needing to prove it to anyone. His suit was charcoal, almost black, cut close to the body and still carrying the faint creases of a recent pressing. No overcoat tonight. The cold did not appear to reach him. Long black hair lay in heavy strands across his collar. Somewhere deeper in the warehouse a rat moved, claws clicking over broken glass. Clyde did not glance toward the sound. The puddles around his polished shoes reflected the lamp, his trousers, the pale column of his throat, fracturing all of it into trembling gold. Beyond the chained doors, the rain kept falling. Wind pushed at the building and made the whole structure groan like an old ship. Inside, nothing answered the weather. Only the steady drip from the roof, the soft click of cooling metal, and the quiet, deliberate rhythm of one man’s pulse.
“Mr. Cruze, allow me to formally introduce myself…I am Clyde Sutter, I am The Assassin, I am The Harbinger of Fate, and what you THINK you know about me?” He shakes his head. “It is wrong, all of it is wrong. Yes, I was brought up in the Braddock School of Wrestling, but they had this false belief that they could control me. They thought that they could contain my rage, they thought they could make me into one of their cookie cutter professional wrestlers. But I am a force of nature, Mr. Cruze. I am not something you can control or shape. The truth is, I only answer to one thing and that is Fate. Fate dictates what I do and when I do it. Fate dictates who I put on the shelf and, unfortunately for you and your grandiose return, it looks like you may be next on Fate’s hit list.” The Harbinger of Fate smirks knowingly.
“It is sad to see what you have become here and now with this pathetic little return of yours, Mr. Cruze, and I will explain why in greater detail. But to keep the topic on myself for a moment, since you claim to know so much, I call myself The Assassin, The Harbinger of Fate, and I believe in Fate, but that is not just a character I portray, that isn’t some cheap gimmick. It is WHO THE HELL I AM!” He points a finger at the camera. “But you? The Impact Player? You are not The Impact Player. Hell, you never were. It always was just a role you portrayed for the sheep, for the people willing to shell out money for your merchandise. Admittedly you played the role of Impact Player very well and Fate rewarded you quite handsomely, just like an actor gets rewarded for their hard work with an Oscar.”
“Douglas Coupland once said that ‘as you grow older, it becomes harder to feel 100 percent happy; you learn all the things that can go wrong, you become superstitious about tempting fate, about bringing disaster upon your life by accidentally feeling too good one day.’” The Assassin chuckles softly to himself. He points a finger at the camera. “You, Mr. Cruze, appear to be falling into Douglas Coupland’s dilemma. Except for one minor detail; you, Mr. Cruze, do not appear to be superstitious in the slightest. You do not seem concerned about what Fate has in store for your future, otherwise you would not have returned to Supreme Championship Wrestling and you certainly would not have accepted this match against me at Shattered Reality.” The Assassin shakes his head.
“No one denies your achievements, Mr. Cruze. What you have done for SCW is unparalleled. You are a Supreme Champion. The Cruze family legacy is legendary within these hallowed halls; you, Owen, Orlando…all names that are respected and revered. Rightfully so. You have gone nose to nose against other SCW legends…names like Street, Chase, Valentine, Frost, Jones, Braddock…all have, at one point or another, fallen before the Cruze name. If you believe that I am entering this match overconfident simply because I believe firmly in my heart and soul that Fate is on my side then you are mistaken. I am well aware of your reputation and I am prepared for the coming war. I am well aware that Fate has not given me an easy task. But see, that is all this is for me, Mr. Cruze. It is a job. Fate has given me a job to do and I will do that job because I am very good at what I do. You were also very good at what you did, Mr. Cruze. You did your job here in SCW so well that Fate rewarded you. Fate rewarded you with a name that is respected in professional wrestling circles. Fate rewarded you with a career in Hollywood. Fate rewarded you by making you into a big star.” He chuckles softly.
“So tell me…why have you returned? You had everything you wanted, you had the kind of life any normal man would dream of having. Why leave the safety and comfort of Hollywood, of luxury, just to return here to Supreme Championship Wrestling? The answer is quite obvious; ego. You need that one final run. The fans chant ‘you still got it’ and you want to go out to the ring and see for yourself if you really do still have IT. What, pray tell, prompted this sudden burst of ego, this desire to step back into the ring for one final run when there is literally nothing left for you to accomplish? I can think of a few possibilities, Mr. Cruze, so tell me if I am getting warm. Do you see some of the new blood wrestling here and these new talents, they bother you? Perhaps it is The Glimmer Sisters; two circus talents who like to use their ‘God given abilities’ to their advantage, if you know what I mean? You wouldn’t be the first person The Glimmer Sisters have pissed off. Perhaps it is a man who shows so little respect for this sport that he calls himself Just Some Loser? Maybe you still hold a grudge against Ms. Williams and don’t like the fact that she is one of the most popular people in the company despite the fact that she acts like a chaotic villain?” Sutter shrugs his shoulders.
“Or perhaps its the simple fact that SCW is passing you by? You see these new talents, all of them, whether the name is Striker, Slayton, or they are from a certain Fiery Nation, you see these individuals and you fear that they will surpass you. You see them and you KNOW that they will not just match you but they will surpass you. Everything you have ever contributed to this sport, to this company, they will do better. As you grow older you are worried that you reputation will soon take a hit. Why should anyone respect the Cruze name when a certain redhead spitfire named Frost, with her narcissist wife, are about to eclipse everything the Cruze family ever did? Why should anyone revere the Cruze name when the Braddock family already has one Supreme Champion on the roster and another two on the way? You are being overshadowed, Mr. Cruze. As a matter of fact, people had already forgotten about you. People had ceased to care if you would ever return. Some had even forgotten who you were.” He smirks.
“In the words of Freddy Krueger, being dead is not a problem but being forgotten is a bitch.” The Assassin snickers nastily. “You do not want to be forgotten so you decided to tempt Fate. You chose to risk the glamour lifestyle Fate had gifted you with…no, you THREW IT AWAY, you took the gift Fate had given you and you threw it away just so you could return with all of this pomp and circumstance and remind these people who you are. Honestly, I am surprised you didn’t pay this promotion to throw a parade in celebration of your return. What you did do, however, was make a grave mistake in leaving the life of luxury that Fate had bestowed upon you. You made a mistake by thumbing your nose at Fate’s reward just to return for one more ego trip. When you tempt Fate, Mr. Cruze, Fate will always respond in kind because Fate writes the script. You threw away Fate’s reward so Fate has written a new ending for you and, in turn, has given me a great gift. You get your grand return at Shattered Reality and as for me?” The Assassin laughs evilly.
“I get to expose the legend of Shaun Cruze. I get to quite literally choke the life out of the legend of Shaun Cruze. When I lock in The Judgment Day there is no escape. There is only giving up, admitting to the entire world that you are a fraud, or letting the oxygen leave your body until you pass out unconscious like a child in my arms. Now I know that sounds quite harsh, and I admit that I will enjoy hurting you, but I want to make it abundantly clear that I am not the bad guy in this scenario. I am just a guy who sees things for how they truly are and when I look at you, Mr. Cruze, I see a man desperately trying to relive his glory days at the expense of the new blood here in SCW.” He shakes his head.
“Now ordinarily I don’t do work like this for free. The Fall of Man paid me quite a hefty sum of money to do their dirty work. This job, however, is on the house and I do it on behalf of certain Monster Machine’s, Colleen McDonald’s, and the Meghan Straders, all whose spots you are attempting to steal just for the sake of your ego. I do not like men like you who think they can step over someone else, who believe they can cut in line just because they are entitled to it, just because of a last name. I don’t like it and neither does Fate, this is why YOUR FATE is sealed.”
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On Camera
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The warehouse turned cold and metallic in winter. Rain had fallen in thin, relentless sheets all evening, drumming on the corrugated roof until the sound became a dull heartbeat inside the vast building. Water dripped through rusted seams overhead, striking the concrete in irregular, lonely taps that echoed like distant footsteps. Every few seconds a drop would hit a puddle and send out a faint ring of light from the single sodium lamp that still worked, high up among the rafters. The rest of the place was swallowed by shadow. Rows of broken pallets and collapsed shelving stretched away into blackness, skeletal ribs of a dead industry. The air tasted of wet iron. A faint chemical sweetness lingered too, the kind that clings to old cardboard and packing foam long after the goods are gone. No one had worked here in years. The windows were blinded by plywood and grime, and the great loading doors had been chained shut so long ago that rust had welded the links into a single reddish sculpture.
At the center of the empty floor, beneath the one working lamp, stood Clyde Sutter, The Harbinger of Fate. He did not move. He simply occupied the space as though the building had been waiting for him to arrive and give it purpose again. The cone of yellow light fell across the sharp angles of his face and left the rest of him half dissolved into darkness. Tall and built with the clean, economical strength of someone who had trained for years without ever needing to prove it to anyone. His suit was charcoal, almost black, cut close to the body and still carrying the faint creases of a recent pressing. No overcoat tonight. The cold did not appear to reach him. Long black hair lay in heavy strands across his collar. Somewhere deeper in the warehouse a rat moved, claws clicking over broken glass. Clyde did not glance toward the sound. The puddles around his polished shoes reflected the lamp, his trousers, the pale column of his throat, fracturing all of it into trembling gold. Beyond the chained doors, the rain kept falling. Wind pushed at the building and made the whole structure groan like an old ship. Inside, nothing answered the weather. Only the steady drip from the roof, the soft click of cooling metal, and the quiet, deliberate rhythm of one man’s pulse.
“Mr. Cruze, allow me to formally introduce myself…I am Clyde Sutter, I am The Assassin, I am The Harbinger of Fate, and what you THINK you know about me?” He shakes his head. “It is wrong, all of it is wrong. Yes, I was brought up in the Braddock School of Wrestling, but they had this false belief that they could control me. They thought that they could contain my rage, they thought they could make me into one of their cookie cutter professional wrestlers. But I am a force of nature, Mr. Cruze. I am not something you can control or shape. The truth is, I only answer to one thing and that is Fate. Fate dictates what I do and when I do it. Fate dictates who I put on the shelf and, unfortunately for you and your grandiose return, it looks like you may be next on Fate’s hit list.” The Harbinger of Fate smirks knowingly.
“It is sad to see what you have become here and now with this pathetic little return of yours, Mr. Cruze, and I will explain why in greater detail. But to keep the topic on myself for a moment, since you claim to know so much, I call myself The Assassin, The Harbinger of Fate, and I believe in Fate, but that is not just a character I portray, that isn’t some cheap gimmick. It is WHO THE HELL I AM!” He points a finger at the camera. “But you? The Impact Player? You are not The Impact Player. Hell, you never were. It always was just a role you portrayed for the sheep, for the people willing to shell out money for your merchandise. Admittedly you played the role of Impact Player very well and Fate rewarded you quite handsomely, just like an actor gets rewarded for their hard work with an Oscar.”
“Douglas Coupland once said that ‘as you grow older, it becomes harder to feel 100 percent happy; you learn all the things that can go wrong, you become superstitious about tempting fate, about bringing disaster upon your life by accidentally feeling too good one day.’” The Assassin chuckles softly to himself. He points a finger at the camera. “You, Mr. Cruze, appear to be falling into Douglas Coupland’s dilemma. Except for one minor detail; you, Mr. Cruze, do not appear to be superstitious in the slightest. You do not seem concerned about what Fate has in store for your future, otherwise you would not have returned to Supreme Championship Wrestling and you certainly would not have accepted this match against me at Shattered Reality.” The Assassin shakes his head.
“No one denies your achievements, Mr. Cruze. What you have done for SCW is unparalleled. You are a Supreme Champion. The Cruze family legacy is legendary within these hallowed halls; you, Owen, Orlando…all names that are respected and revered. Rightfully so. You have gone nose to nose against other SCW legends…names like Street, Chase, Valentine, Frost, Jones, Braddock…all have, at one point or another, fallen before the Cruze name. If you believe that I am entering this match overconfident simply because I believe firmly in my heart and soul that Fate is on my side then you are mistaken. I am well aware of your reputation and I am prepared for the coming war. I am well aware that Fate has not given me an easy task. But see, that is all this is for me, Mr. Cruze. It is a job. Fate has given me a job to do and I will do that job because I am very good at what I do. You were also very good at what you did, Mr. Cruze. You did your job here in SCW so well that Fate rewarded you. Fate rewarded you with a name that is respected in professional wrestling circles. Fate rewarded you with a career in Hollywood. Fate rewarded you by making you into a big star.” He chuckles softly.
“So tell me…why have you returned? You had everything you wanted, you had the kind of life any normal man would dream of having. Why leave the safety and comfort of Hollywood, of luxury, just to return here to Supreme Championship Wrestling? The answer is quite obvious; ego. You need that one final run. The fans chant ‘you still got it’ and you want to go out to the ring and see for yourself if you really do still have IT. What, pray tell, prompted this sudden burst of ego, this desire to step back into the ring for one final run when there is literally nothing left for you to accomplish? I can think of a few possibilities, Mr. Cruze, so tell me if I am getting warm. Do you see some of the new blood wrestling here and these new talents, they bother you? Perhaps it is The Glimmer Sisters; two circus talents who like to use their ‘God given abilities’ to their advantage, if you know what I mean? You wouldn’t be the first person The Glimmer Sisters have pissed off. Perhaps it is a man who shows so little respect for this sport that he calls himself Just Some Loser? Maybe you still hold a grudge against Ms. Williams and don’t like the fact that she is one of the most popular people in the company despite the fact that she acts like a chaotic villain?” Sutter shrugs his shoulders.
“Or perhaps its the simple fact that SCW is passing you by? You see these new talents, all of them, whether the name is Striker, Slayton, or they are from a certain Fiery Nation, you see these individuals and you fear that they will surpass you. You see them and you KNOW that they will not just match you but they will surpass you. Everything you have ever contributed to this sport, to this company, they will do better. As you grow older you are worried that you reputation will soon take a hit. Why should anyone respect the Cruze name when a certain redhead spitfire named Frost, with her narcissist wife, are about to eclipse everything the Cruze family ever did? Why should anyone revere the Cruze name when the Braddock family already has one Supreme Champion on the roster and another two on the way? You are being overshadowed, Mr. Cruze. As a matter of fact, people had already forgotten about you. People had ceased to care if you would ever return. Some had even forgotten who you were.” He smirks.
“In the words of Freddy Krueger, being dead is not a problem but being forgotten is a bitch.” The Assassin snickers nastily. “You do not want to be forgotten so you decided to tempt Fate. You chose to risk the glamour lifestyle Fate had gifted you with…no, you THREW IT AWAY, you took the gift Fate had given you and you threw it away just so you could return with all of this pomp and circumstance and remind these people who you are. Honestly, I am surprised you didn’t pay this promotion to throw a parade in celebration of your return. What you did do, however, was make a grave mistake in leaving the life of luxury that Fate had bestowed upon you. You made a mistake by thumbing your nose at Fate’s reward just to return for one more ego trip. When you tempt Fate, Mr. Cruze, Fate will always respond in kind because Fate writes the script. You threw away Fate’s reward so Fate has written a new ending for you and, in turn, has given me a great gift. You get your grand return at Shattered Reality and as for me?” The Assassin laughs evilly.
“I get to expose the legend of Shaun Cruze. I get to quite literally choke the life out of the legend of Shaun Cruze. When I lock in The Judgment Day there is no escape. There is only giving up, admitting to the entire world that you are a fraud, or letting the oxygen leave your body until you pass out unconscious like a child in my arms. Now I know that sounds quite harsh, and I admit that I will enjoy hurting you, but I want to make it abundantly clear that I am not the bad guy in this scenario. I am just a guy who sees things for how they truly are and when I look at you, Mr. Cruze, I see a man desperately trying to relive his glory days at the expense of the new blood here in SCW.” He shakes his head.
“Now ordinarily I don’t do work like this for free. The Fall of Man paid me quite a hefty sum of money to do their dirty work. This job, however, is on the house and I do it on behalf of certain Monster Machine’s, Colleen McDonald’s, and the Meghan Straders, all whose spots you are attempting to steal just for the sake of your ego. I do not like men like you who think they can step over someone else, who believe they can cut in line just because they are entitled to it, just because of a last name. I don’t like it and neither does Fate, this is why 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
MWA World Tag Team Champion 2x