Kimberly Williams Super Thread of Awesomeness!

[The Matt]

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December 27th, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The house had never felt hostile to Kimberly Williams, but it had never felt honest either. It sat on a quiet street where lawns were trimmed into obedience and porches were decorative rather than lived on. The neighboring homes stood at polite distances from one another, each one carefully curated to suggest success without ever revealing personality. Even now, with cardboard boxes stacked against the walls and furniture partially disassembled, the place still carried an air of restraint, as though it disapproved of the chaos unfolding inside it. And nothing and no one could ever restrain Kimberly Williams. Lucian Floreschu has been doing his best, and succeeding to some degree, to restrain her through blackmail but even then it is minimal success at best. And on this day Lucian is the last person on the mind of The Woman Scorned. She is focusing on her boyfriend Tommy and their inevitable move away from this upscale neighborhood of Boston, Massachusetts that they had been calling home for most of 2025 and back into Kim’s old home in a run down dump in the rough part of town. Is it smart? Safe? No, on both counts. But it is what makes Kimberly feel comfortable and at ease. Comfort is one thing Kim wants now more than ever, especially with Lucian always lurking in the background.

Sunlight streamed through wide, spotless windows, catching dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. The living room looked larger than it ever had, stripped of rugs and art, its echoes softened only by the muffled thud of packing tape being pulled and torn. Everything smelled faintly of cardboard and marker ink, layered over the lingering traces of expensive cleaning products that Kimberly had never bothered to buy herself. This house had come with expectations built into its walls, expectations she had never asked for and never quite managed to meet. Kimberly stood barefoot in the middle of it all, surrounded by half filled boxes labeled in aggressive handwriting. Her red hair was tied back messily, a few strands escaping no matter how many times she shoved them behind her ears. She looked relaxed, almost buoyant, moving from one pile to another with restless energy. Every item she picked up felt lighter than it should have, as if the act of packing it away was already loosening something inside her chest. Across the room, Tommy Wasley wrestled with a box that was very clearly labeled BOOKS and very clearly overloaded. He was a big man, broad shouldered and heavyset, his beard thick and untrimmed in a way that suggested comfort rather than neglect. A faded band shirt clung to his frame, stretched slightly across his stomach as he bent to lift the box and immediately reconsidered his life choices.

“Good thing I still have my muscle and strength from my time with EMERGE and SCW, this box is trying to kill me…” Tommy says “...I think it is full of bricks. Or maybe you secretly collect small anvils.”

Kimberly glanced over her shoulder, eyes bright, lips curling into a grin that carried far too much delight for the situation.

“That is the literature section, thank you very much. Words have weight. Emotional weight. Also physical weight apparently.”

“I am just saying, when we get to the other place, these are going on a lower shelf. Preferably the floor.”

The other place. The thought sent a little spark of excitement through Kimberly that she did not bother to hide. Her old house was smaller, older, rough around the edges in ways that could not be polished out with money or landscaping. The neighborhood was louder, messier, unpredictable. People argued on stoops and laughed too loudly late at night. Sirens were a fact of life. So were stray cats, corner stores with flickering signs, and neighbors who knew her name and her business whether she liked it or not. It felt like home. For someone as abnormal as Kimmy, it was as normal as it could possibly be. She taped up another box and shoved it aside with her foot, surveying the room with satisfaction.

“I swear this place has been watching me since we moved in…” she says, peering up at the wall “...see?! A hidden camera!”

“That’s a smoke detector, babe.”

“I knew that!” She retorts. “Seriously though, its like it is waiting for me to put my elbows on the counter or play music too loud so it can call the cops on my soul.”

“You really hated it that much?” He asked. Kimberly shrugs her shoulders.

“Hate is such a strong word. I would say it made my skin itch. And not in the fun way. Everyone smiles here like they are auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. No one ever yells. No one ever throws anything. It is deeply suspicious.”

She plopped down onto the floor without ceremony, leaning back against a box and stretching her legs out in front of her. The hardwood was cool against her skin, too clean, too perfect. Tommy sat beside her with a heavy thump, the floor creaking in response as if relieved to finally be treated like a floor.

“I liked the space, the quiet.” Tommy says. “But I like you not looking like you are about to chew through drywall a lot more.”

“See, that is why I am keeping you. Excellent priorities.”

She bumped her shoulder into his, then leaned her head against his arm. For a moment, the house faded into the background, just another structure they were passing through rather than a destination they were meant to stay in.

“Besides, my old place has character. And by character I mean questionable plumbing, neighbors who will absolutely help you hide a body, and a corner diner that serves pancakes at three in the morning without asking follow up questions. That is culture, Tommy.”

He laughed, deep and warm, the sound filling the too large room.

“You do realize we are moving backward on the socioeconomic ladder, right?”

“Oh no, not the ladder! Anything but the ladder! How will I survive without silent judgment and decorative rock?!” She pushed herself back to her feet. “Trust me, I breathe better over there. And I like breathing. It is very on trend this year.”

“You know what else I noticed about you? Something different?” He asks.

“No more Queens of Chaos t-shirts?” Kim asks. “Oh I’ve ditched that garbage last year when they dumped me. They clearly have no class.”

“Not that.” He chuckles, a guffaw. “I mean YOU…you seem to be happier. Does it have anything to do with Fatal Fortunes? That is chaos to the nth degree and chaos is your thing.”

“Mayyyyybe…” Kim smirks knowingly, a hint of mischief in her gorgeous eyes “...I do love some good chaos and Fatal Fortunes will bring it all and then some! I’m sure everyone is on the edge of their seatings anxiously hoping for a title match.” She shakes her head vehemently. “Not moi!”

“I call bs on that, babe.” Tommy grins from ear to ear, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You have declared on multiple occasions how you want to break the record and become a six time Underground Champion. You have stated you want to earn Supreme Status and that requires you winning the SCW World Title. That’s TWO title shots you want.”

“Yeah but those will come in time.” She winks. “As long as I can create beautiful, glorious chaos throughout the land I will be happy and Fatal Fortunes will bring me that opportunity!”

Tommy is about to speak up again when they hear the doorbell ringing. Both he and Kimberly instantly furrow their brows in confusion. Of all the time to be expecting visitors, now is not that time.

“Kimmy…were you expecting anyone?”

“Nooo…” she frowns “...why would anyone be visiting? Don’t they know we’re not here any longer?!”

“We’re technically still here, babe.”

“Oh yeah!”

The doorbell rings again. Kimberly sighs as she turns and starts making a beeline to the door. Tommy follows suit. Williams swings the door open and her jaw hits the floor, that positive upbeat, jovial attitude she had almost instantly disappears. Her heart drops into her stomach as she sees who is there at her doorstep.

Lucian Floreschu.

Kimberly would love to strangle him right here and now. That would not be wise. Murder in broad daylight is typically frowned upon. Plus she doesn’t want Tommy to see her upset. The Woman Scorned puts a brave face, pretending as if nothing is wrong when deep down inside she is ready to scream.

“Well good afternoon, sweet Kimberly.”

“Lucian.” Kim states dryly. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, hi,” Tommy waves nervously “boyfriend back here…what’s up, Kim? Who is this guy?”

“Yes, Kimberly.” Lucian says with a smug grin on his face. “It isn’t nice to keep your boyfriend in the dark about your uncle.”

“Uncle?” Tommy asks. “On the Jones side or Williams side?”

“Neither, and he’s technically not really my uncle.” Kim states definitively. “Lucian here is Emma’s brother.

“Emma?” Tommy arches his brow out of curiosity. “The same who raised you? Who tore you from your mother’s arms? Who…”

“Yep, the one and the same!” Kim nods her head.

“I’m kinda surprised that he’d want to see you.” Tommy eyes Lucian suspiciously. “I’m surprised you haven’t torn him apart. You hated Emma.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Kim grins as she turns her attention back to Lucian, sending him a silent message, eager to see how he handles this. Sure enough Lucian has an answer for this, he always has an answer.

“It is true, Mr. Wasley, that my sister wasn’t exactly the nicest of people, and yes, she did mistreat Kimberly here, but I am here now and I intend to try and build a good, positive relationship with my niece,” he puts a strong emphasis on the word ‘niece’ knowing it will anger Kimberly “to make up for the past evils of my sister.”

“Such a great guy right!” Kim says with sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“That is why I am here, actually.” Lucian answers quickly. He digs into his pocket and produces a set of keys. “I heard you two were moving and I said to myself that any niece of mine should only live in the very best of homes!”

“Kimmy was actually hoping to live in something a little, uh, low scale.” Tommy says. Lucian shakes his head.

“Nonsense! Nothing but the best for Kimberly!” He places the keys into Kim’s hand. “These are the keys to Emma’s mansion. You have seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Only in passing.” Kim snorts. “Emma raised me off the grid in the wilderness.”

“Ah, such a shame.” Lucian smiles. “But now you get a chance to live it up, live in the marvelous masterpiece that she hid from you all these years, because it is your birthright.”

Kimberly hates this. She was so close to returning to what was comfortable to her, to what made her feel safe. Yet she looks into Lucian’s eyes and she knows that this isn’t a request; this is a demand. He is silently ordering her to move into the mansion and she knows if she doesn’t he will expose her. She has no choice but to move up from one upscale place to an even more luxurious home and it is driving her crazy that she cannot do anything about it.

“Well Tommy, looks like you get your wish.” She smirks. “We’re moving into the mansion.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy asks. “You were so excited about returning to your old place?”

“Uh, yeah, of course I’m sure.” Kim nods her head, hoping that she sounded convincing. “How can I turn down such a great opportunity, right?”

Tommy, for his part, seems convinced, and even a little bit relieved that they aren’t moving into that seedier, rougher neighborhood. Kim, however, feels a part of herself dying. If she could cry she would. Lucian is slowly but surely taking control of every aspect of her life.

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January 1st, 2025
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera
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The late afternoon sun hung low over downtown Boston, casting a golden haze across the cobblestone streets of the historic North End of Boston. The air carried the faint chill of early winter, sharp enough to pink the cheeks but not yet biting. Kimberly Williams was there among it all, her long red hair catching the light like polished copper as it spilled down her back in loose waves, occasionally lifted by the breeze off the Atlantic. The Woman Scorned wore faded dark jeans that had seen better days, scuffed brown leather boots that thudded softly against the uneven pavement, and a charcoal-gray hoodie layered under an open flannel shirt in deep green and black plaid. Tucked securely under one arm, clutched against her side like an old friend, was a large penguin plushie; her beloved friend and companion named Wasley. Suddenly she turns to face the camera. She tilts her head, eyes wide with a look of mischief that indicates she has some bad intentions. She waves playfully.

“Greetings, Kimmymaniacs! Now don’t be shy, ladies and germs, it’s just me, The Woman Scorned! The Queen of the Death Match! The psychopath who you had better be praying isn’t standing across from the ring against you come Fatal Fortunes!” She snickers nastily. “See, I love Fatal Fortunes! I really do! It sounds like a tarot card deck got drunk, crashed a casino, and woke up in a wrestling ring bleeding from places it didn’t know it had. Random opponents, random matches, random championships…although, I’ll be perfectly honest with you, if me and Wasley end up with another title match that’s not Underground we will both scream bloody murder!”

“What’s that, Wasley?” She puts the penguin up to her ear, as if listening to it. “Yes! Literally anything could happen on these magical nights called Fatal Fortunes! Singles! Tag Matches! Hardcore Matches! Cage Matches! Derek Adonis on a pole match! Lumberjack Matches! Anything could happen and we the wrestlers have no control over it! Zero! Nada! Zip! That fact alone drives everyone backstage mad! The entire roster is literally losing their minds over lack of control…” she scratches her chin, as if deep in thought “...control, it is but an illusion that humanity creates for itself, to make it feel safe. To make it feel comfortable. Chaos is reality, chaos is the truth that we do NOT have control over anything. All of the carefully laid plans of mice and men come apart oh so easily when chaos is introduced. And that is what Fatal Fortunes is all about…reminding the SCW faithful that chaos is the true ruler of the day. I can just think of what egomaniacs like Selena McFrosty, Gavin Taylor, The Vision, Syren, and just about everyone else must be asking themselves right now…”

“Who will I face?” Kim shrugs her shoulders. “What if I lose my title? What if the luck of the draw screws me over and ruins my carefully laid out plans?” Williams again laughs nastily. “Oh sweeties, I am the screw.” She straightens and starts laughing. “Heh, I said screw…” The Woman Scorned quickly regains her composure and while the laughter fades her sinister grin remains.

“You see, most of these people? They need structure. They need plans. They need contracts written in ink and matches written in pencil and safety nets stitched with a bow. Selena McFrosty needed her cutesy little contract and her control to wriggle her way back into power but look at where that got her? Ol’ Cid-Knee is still world champion and she is stuck with Xander as her bestie whether either of them like it or not. Gavin Taylor lost so much control that he went nuts and just invented his own contract that does absolutely nothing. As for that little fraudulent witch Syren, she may think she is protected because of the world title shot she earned by beating me at Shattered Reality, but no one is protected from Fatal Fortunes. No one is protected when you are drawn to face a lunatic fringe looking to make a statement at your expense, bitch, and I’m not just talking about me, there’s a lot of people on this roster who would love to embarrass you at Fatal Fortunes, or do worse, and you have ZERO CONTROL OVER IT! But as for yours truly?” She makes a cutting motion across her throat.

“I thrive when the plan dies. Chaos doesn’t scare me. Chaos and I are on a first name basis. Chaos lets me crash on the couch, steal its snacks, and borrow its favorite weapons. And sometimes… Chaos holds my earrings while I beat someone senseless. Fatal Fortunes isn’t a gamble for me. It’s a homecoming. So I don’t care who the draw spits out. Friend. Enemy. Champion. Rookie. Veteran who thinks I disrespect the sport. None of it matters.” She grins again, wild and crooked. “If my name comes up next to yours? Congrats. You just won the worst lottery of your life. Because every spin, every draw, every random little oopsie…” She snaps her fingers again.

“…leans in my favor. Fatal Fortunes is about chance and total anarchy. It is about chaos, unbridled chaos. And you are looking at the ONE TRUE Queen of Chaos! Accept NO substitutes! Can you control chaos? You are fooling yourself if you think so. If you think you can control ME you are absolutely delusional. These nights, Fatal Fortunes, they happened to land at the absolute right moment for yours truly. I came up short at Shattered Reality. I failed to stop Syren. But all that did was free me, it LIBERATED ME from having to focus on these god damn side quests idiots like CHBK keep throwing my way. I can return my focus to doing the ONE thing I do better than anyone else in this promotion and that is to spread chaos and anarchy.”

“Fatal Fortunes is my comfort zone, bitches. It is MY playground!” She holds up Wasley the penguin. “Me and Wasley are not pretending anymore. There is only one thing we want right now and that is to win back the SCW Underground Championship. It would make my millennium if Fatal Fortunes, the luck of the draw, smiled upon me and granted ME with the title shot that has thus far been unfairly denied me. But if not…” she smirks knowingly, she shrugs her shoulders “...c’est la vie! Whoever is standing across from me will get maimed! And if Just Some Loser is across from me I will take Just Some Television Title and maybe sell it on Ebay. If Deanna is across from me we will tear down the house and I will tear that newly won Adrenaline Title from her and fashion it into MY image. If the La Pequina Luz stands across from me with that United States Title, I will be the dark of her lightness and I will happily drive Gavin Taylor nuts with it. Hell, maybe me and Wasley will get a tag title match? Those Glimmer girls seem fun, even though they stole mine and my sister’s shtick!” She wags her finger at the camera. “Naughty”

“Or I could face the top guy himself. Cid Turner. Now while I really don’t want that world title right now, I have to admit the idea of me WINNING the world title at Fatal Fortunes, and thus jumping the line Syren thought she had so craftily jumped herself, would just make me absolutely happy! Me being World Champion would drive someone like Selena McFrosty insane and that would make me happy! The sheer number of chaotic scenarios I could create makes me one happy psychopath!” She pats herself on the chest.

“Fatal Fortunes is MY NIGHT! It was designed with someone as sick, twisted, and chaotic as ME in mind! It doesn’t matter to me who or what I am up against, whether I am at an advantage or a disadvantage, I look at all of this as an opportunity, an opportunity that I will seize, an opportunity to maim whoever is unlucky to draw the name of the Queen of the Death Match.”