01-06-2026, 11:34 AM
==========
December 27th, 2025
London, England
Off Camera
==========
The restaurant existed in a world slightly removed from the city that surrounded it, tucked behind an unassuming entrance that gave little indication of what waited beyond its doors. Inside, London felt distant and muted, reduced to a soft presence that hummed somewhere outside thick walls and tall windows. The interior glowed with low golden light, carefully placed so that nothing was harsh and nothing was left in shadow. Polished wood and stone surfaces reflected just enough warmth to make the space feel intimate despite its size. The air carried the layered scents of fine cooking, wine, and subtle floral notes, all blending into something refined and comforting. Clyde Sutter sat at a private table set slightly apart from the rest of the dining room, positioned to offer seclusion without isolation. The table was dressed in crisp white linen, its surface arranged with precision. Fine glassware caught the light with every small movement, and silver cutlery rested in perfect alignment, unused and waiting. A single understated centerpiece sat between the place settings, elegant in its simplicity, adding to the sense that this was a space where nothing was accidental.
Clyde looked entirely different here than he did in the ring or even in the quiet of home. He was impeccably dressed, his clothing tailored to fit his well built frame with effortless sophistication. He wore a dark suit jacket that hugged his shoulders cleanly, the fabric rich and smooth to the touch. Beneath it, a crisp dress shirt sat neatly against his skin, the collar pressed and precise. The top buttons were fastened, giving him a composed, formal appearance that contrasted with the more relaxed versions of himself reserved for private life. His trousers matched the jacket perfectly, falling straight and sharp, breaking just at the top of polished dress shoes that reflected the ambient light beneath the table. His long black hair had been styled with care, pulled back neatly rather than left loose, keeping his face unobstructed and emphasizing the seriousness of the occasion. His posture was straight but not rigid, suggesting a man accustomed to discipline yet comfortable in environments that demanded restraint and polish. There was a quiet intensity about him, the kind that did not need volume or movement to assert itself. In this setting, his presence felt deliberate, controlled, and refined.
Across from him sat Lilith Sutter, his older sister, whose black hair framed her face with striking elegance. She carried herself with a natural authority that came not from force but from certainty. Her attire matched the exclusivity of the restaurant, sophisticated and flawless in execution. She wore a dress of deep, luxurious color, the fabric draping fluidly along her form. The cut was tasteful yet commanding, designed to accentuate her presence rather than simply her figure. The neckline was elegant and composed, revealing just enough to suggest confidence without excess. Her shoes were slender and refined, their heels adding height and poise to her already commanding stature. Jewelry adorned her sparingly but with intent. A statement piece rested at her neck, catching the light when she moved, and delicate earrings framed her face, their subtle shimmer drawing attention to her sharp features. Her makeup was immaculate, emphasizing her eyes and lips with precision, and her hair had been styled to perfection, smooth and glossy, every strand exactly where it belonged.
The private table created a sense of separation from the rest of the room, as though time moved differently there. Other diners spoke in hushed tones, their conversations blending into a soft murmur that never intruded. The gentle clink of glass and cutlery punctuated the air, adding to the rhythm of the space without disrupting its calm. Servers moved with practiced grace, their presence discreet, appearing only when needed and fading back into the background just as smoothly. Beyond the tall windows, the city lights of London glimmered faintly, blurred by the glass and the distance. The world outside felt busy and relentless, but within these walls, everything was measured and deliberate. The setting seemed designed for moments that carried weight, for conversations that mattered. At their table, Clyde and Lilith sat poised within this carefully curated atmosphere, two siblings bound by history and shared blood, now occupying a space that reflected success, restraint, and unspoken tension.
“You look well, dear brother.” Lilith says in a silky smooth tone of voice. “I hope you do not mind this establishment. It is one of my favorites, although I am aware that you prefer…simpler tastes.”
“Lilith, you should be grateful that I showed up.” Clyde remarks coldly.
“I am quite grateful for your presence, dear brother.”
“Then do not bother me with your pleasantries.” Sutter says impatiently. He holds up one finger. “I am giving you this one chance, this one opportunity, so you should not waste it by trying to butter me up because you know it will not work. Whatever you want to say to me, just say it.”
“Were you always in this foul mood?” Lilith chuckles.
“Only when my patience is tried.” He answers back. “And you ARE trying my patience.”
“Oh try to be happy, dear brother. We are having a happy reunion. Yes, I am grateful that you are open to a family reunion.”
“You are making quite the assumption.”
“Am I?” She smirks devilishly. “You are here. Alone. Without your beloved. That speaks volumes.” She sips her wine. “Speaking of Ms. Braddock, did she enjoy her gift?”
“She was taken aback that you would get her such an expensive gift.”
“It comes from the heart, believe me.” Lilith responds. “I genuinely want peace, I want to rekindle our relationship.”
“We never had a relationship.” Clyde points out coldly. “I never even knew you existed until a year ago.”
“All the more reason to get to know each other. All the more reason to HELP each other.”
“What can you offer that would possibly help me?”
“You would be surprised at how far my reach extends. It is a shame you were defeated by Shaun Cruze at Shattered Reality. That should not have happened. SCW management should recognize you as the star that you are and they definitely should not be bringing back some tired old relic from the past. Then there’s Fatal Fortunes.” She sighs and shakes her head. “It is a shame that SCW is letting luck decide what happens next for you.”
“You call it luck, I call it Fate.” Clyde states confidently. “And Fate will smile upon me at Fatal Fortunes. I promise you.”
“There you go again, your talk about fate.” Lilith chuckles. “You believe that Fate is in control and, perhaps you are right, but that doesn’t mean you and everyone else in that locker room are powerless to act. There are things you can do to improve your standing, dear brother, regardless of fate.” She motions to herself. “And I can help you with that.”
“I must admit that your resources would be invaluable to my cause.” Clyde answers reluctantly.
“Your time working with the Page family and with The Fall of Man proves that you are not above accepting money, despite your belief in fate.”
“Fate’s will CANNOT be stopped.” Sutter insists. “It can be delayed…”
“See? That is precisely what I am talking about. There are ways you can improve your standing. You have helped other people, why not do something to help yourself? Let ME help you.”
“I must admit that you make a good case, sister.” Clyde pauses and then shakes his head. “But I cannot just ignore what you have done.”
“William Heaven and the Page family have done horrible things and yet when it comes to your family you will not turn a blind eye?” Lilith snickers. “Honestly, brother, I am not here to do you any harm. I want to help you, your fiancee too. You are my family, she is about to become family, and I want to work with my family.”
“You say that and yet I still have my doubts.” Clyde answers back. “Tell me, just out of curiosity, what exactly is that you could give me that I do not already have from people like the Page family or from Mr. Heaven or anyone else I do work for?”
“I have something that they do not have, that they COULD NOT have…” Lilith leans in close, a wicked smile on her face “...I have answers about our past.”
“Our past?” This instantly brings Clyde to attention. He had told Melinda Braddock that he had agreed to see Lilith for this one reason, because he has questions about his past and Lilith is the only connection he has to his past. Lilith notices that she has got his attention and she nods her head.
“Yes, dear brother. I was once just as in the dark about our shared past as you but I now have answers. I am not asking you to do anything illegal. I am not asking you to do anything unethical. I just want a relationship with my brother.”
“That’s all?” Sutter seems skeptical. Lilith nods her head.
“Yes. In return you will learn about our father. You will learn about Ethan Sutter.”
==========
December 28th, 2025
London, England
On Camera
==========
London moved around The Assassin with its usual sense of purpose, the city alive but never frantic, as if it had long ago mastered the art of motion without chaos. The street was busy without being overwhelming, a steady flow of people and vehicles passing through a landscape shaped by centuries of history and modern polish. Stone facades rose on either side, their details softened by time, while newer buildings of glass and steel reflected the muted daylight in clean, confident lines. The sky above was overcast but bright, the kind of grey that softened shadows rather than darkened them, casting the city in an even, flattering light. Clyde Sutter stood out without appearing to try. He was dressed impeccably, every element of his appearance deliberate and refined. His suit was tailored to perfection, cut to complement his well built frame while maintaining a clean, elegant silhouette. The jacket sat smoothly across his shoulders, the fabric rich and finely woven, catching subtle variations of light as he moved. Beneath it, a crisp dress shirt lay pressed and immaculate, its collar sharp and precise against his neck. The color was classic and restrained, chosen to enhance the overall look rather than distract from it. His trousers fell straight and clean, breaking neatly at the top of polished dress shoes that gleamed softly against the pavement. The shoes themselves were clearly well cared for, their leather smooth and unscuffed, reflecting the world around them in muted flashes. A belt of matching quality cinched the outfit together, understated and elegant. Nothing about his attire was excessive, yet everything spoke of intention and self awareness. Clyde’s long black hair had been styled back neatly, away from his face, revealing strong features and a composed expression. There was a seriousness to him, not harsh or unapproachable, but thoughtful and controlled. His posture was upright and confident, shoulders relaxed yet squared, as though he were fully aware of both himself and his surroundings. Years of discipline showed in the way he stood and walked, a quiet physical confidence that did not need to be asserted.
The street itself offered a rich backdrop to his presence. Traditional storefronts sat beside modern boutiques, their windows displaying carefully arranged goods that hinted at luxury and taste. Black iron railings lined the edge of the pavement in places, separating pedestrians from small raised gardens or historic buildings. Buses passed by with a low hum, their red forms a familiar splash of color against the neutral tones of the city. Taxis wove through traffic with practiced ease, horns used sparingly, communication more implied than enforced. People moved past Clyde, some glancing at him briefly before continuing on, others too absorbed in their own routines to notice. He blended into the rhythm of the city while still commanding his own space within it. The faint sounds of conversation drifted through the air, accents overlapping and blending, a reminder of London’s vast and varied population. Somewhere nearby, the clatter of dishes from a café spilled onto the street, accompanied by the aroma of coffee and fresh bread. Despite the activity around him, there was a sense of stillness in the moment. Clyde appeared unhurried, existing comfortably within the space between motion and pause. The city did not rush him, and he did not rush it. This was London at its most composed, and he matched it perfectly, a figure of quiet confidence and impeccable presentation framed by one of the world’s most enduring cities.
“Fate is in control. I have said this for a very long time now. Everything that happens is because Fate has willed it to be not because myself or someone else happened to be superior on any given night. Fate rules us all, and sometimes we need a reminder of that. I LOST at Shattered Reality. It had nothing to do with lack of preparedness…I was ready for what the so-called Impact Player brought to the table. It had nothing to do with resolve on either of our parts. I was most definitely resolved to put an end to his egomaniacal, arrogant return before it even began. It certainly had nothing to do with my will faltering. I lost to Mr. Cruze at Shattered Reality because Fate allowed it.” The Harbinger of Fate smirks.
“People in this line of work…professional wrestling…they like to dress up defeat in excuses. The momentum shifted. Corrupt referees or corrupt management. Or simply they ran out of luck on that particular night.” Sutter shakes his head. “I do not believe in luck. I believe in inevitability. I believe that every step taken is already accounted for long before the bell ever rings. Mr. Cruze defeated me not because he was destined for a grand return in SCW. He beat me because Fate allowed it. He defeated me because it was part of Fate’s grand plan and I, like everyone else on this roster, am not above Fate. I am not above it, I am not beneath it, I am WITHIN IT. I am not exempt from Fate’s will. No one is exempt from Fate’s will.” He points a finger at the camera.
“NONE OF YOU are exempt from Fate’s will. Not even you, Mr. Cruze. So enjoy your victory now because Fate will remind you, just like it reminded me, and just like it will remind everyone else on the SCW Roster very soon, that Fate STILL is in control. That’s where I come in. When Fate speaks, I listen. When Fate moves, I follow. When Fate demands blood, I deliver it. I am The Assassin not because I enjoy the act, not because I crave chaos, but because Fate does NOT negotiate. Fate does not hesitate. Fate ends things when they are meant to end and I am Fate’s instrument. I make certain that things end the way Fate intends. Now Fate brings us to Fatal Fortunes.” The Assassin snickers knowingly. The faintest hint of something almost resembling a smile crosses his face.
“Do you recall the last time SCW hosted a Fatal Fortunes? On that night I made my return to this company. I had been exiled from the company for a long time until Fate saw fit to reward me with this second chance. I threw my hat into the ring for Fatal Fortunes and I gave then SCW Adrenaline Champion Glory Braddock the single worst beating she has ever had. Yes, she retained her title, but not without taking a trip to the hospital. I sent a message to the entire company that night that I had returned, not as someone’s monster, but as The Harbinger of Fate, deadlier than ever. Now it has returned and I am still here, still implementing Fate’s will. And the will for this year’s Fatal Fortunes will be the same…”
“Random opponents.”
“Random rules.”
“Every championship defended but the champion will not know who they are defending against.” The Assassin snickers knowingly.
“Some may see this is as chaos, as a mere spectacle designed to entertain the masses. Men and women trembling at the thought of surrendering control to Fate. They fear randomness because it strips them of the illusion that they are in charge.” He shakes his head. “I do not fear it. I embrace it. What SCW calls random I call revelation. Fatal Fortunes is not chaos, it is truth. It is Fate with its mask torn away. No politics. No favoritism. No careful planning to protect egos. Just Fate with its hand on the steering wheel.” He pats himself on his massive chest.
“This event was built for someone like me. Someone who does not need certainty. Someone who does not need comfort. Someone who understands that destiny does its best work when control is taken from human hands. I do not choose my victims. Fate does. I do not choose the rules. Fate does. I do not choose the prize. Fate does. And I will accept whatever it gives me. A champion. A legend. A rookie. A stipulation designed to cripple or humiliate. It makes no difference. The outcome will be the same. I will walk into that ring. I will listen. And I will act.” He straightens, posture unyielding.
“To everyone else in Fatal Fortunes, understand this. You are not unlucky. You are not being wronged. You are being summoned. If your name is drawn against mine, that is not coincidence. That is a sentence. I am The Harbinger of Fate. I do not promise victory. I promise inevitability. Whatever happens in that ring was always meant to happen the moment your name crossed paths with mine. And know this…YOUR Fate is SEALED.”
December 27th, 2025
London, England
Off Camera
==========
The restaurant existed in a world slightly removed from the city that surrounded it, tucked behind an unassuming entrance that gave little indication of what waited beyond its doors. Inside, London felt distant and muted, reduced to a soft presence that hummed somewhere outside thick walls and tall windows. The interior glowed with low golden light, carefully placed so that nothing was harsh and nothing was left in shadow. Polished wood and stone surfaces reflected just enough warmth to make the space feel intimate despite its size. The air carried the layered scents of fine cooking, wine, and subtle floral notes, all blending into something refined and comforting. Clyde Sutter sat at a private table set slightly apart from the rest of the dining room, positioned to offer seclusion without isolation. The table was dressed in crisp white linen, its surface arranged with precision. Fine glassware caught the light with every small movement, and silver cutlery rested in perfect alignment, unused and waiting. A single understated centerpiece sat between the place settings, elegant in its simplicity, adding to the sense that this was a space where nothing was accidental.
Clyde looked entirely different here than he did in the ring or even in the quiet of home. He was impeccably dressed, his clothing tailored to fit his well built frame with effortless sophistication. He wore a dark suit jacket that hugged his shoulders cleanly, the fabric rich and smooth to the touch. Beneath it, a crisp dress shirt sat neatly against his skin, the collar pressed and precise. The top buttons were fastened, giving him a composed, formal appearance that contrasted with the more relaxed versions of himself reserved for private life. His trousers matched the jacket perfectly, falling straight and sharp, breaking just at the top of polished dress shoes that reflected the ambient light beneath the table. His long black hair had been styled with care, pulled back neatly rather than left loose, keeping his face unobstructed and emphasizing the seriousness of the occasion. His posture was straight but not rigid, suggesting a man accustomed to discipline yet comfortable in environments that demanded restraint and polish. There was a quiet intensity about him, the kind that did not need volume or movement to assert itself. In this setting, his presence felt deliberate, controlled, and refined.
Across from him sat Lilith Sutter, his older sister, whose black hair framed her face with striking elegance. She carried herself with a natural authority that came not from force but from certainty. Her attire matched the exclusivity of the restaurant, sophisticated and flawless in execution. She wore a dress of deep, luxurious color, the fabric draping fluidly along her form. The cut was tasteful yet commanding, designed to accentuate her presence rather than simply her figure. The neckline was elegant and composed, revealing just enough to suggest confidence without excess. Her shoes were slender and refined, their heels adding height and poise to her already commanding stature. Jewelry adorned her sparingly but with intent. A statement piece rested at her neck, catching the light when she moved, and delicate earrings framed her face, their subtle shimmer drawing attention to her sharp features. Her makeup was immaculate, emphasizing her eyes and lips with precision, and her hair had been styled to perfection, smooth and glossy, every strand exactly where it belonged.
The private table created a sense of separation from the rest of the room, as though time moved differently there. Other diners spoke in hushed tones, their conversations blending into a soft murmur that never intruded. The gentle clink of glass and cutlery punctuated the air, adding to the rhythm of the space without disrupting its calm. Servers moved with practiced grace, their presence discreet, appearing only when needed and fading back into the background just as smoothly. Beyond the tall windows, the city lights of London glimmered faintly, blurred by the glass and the distance. The world outside felt busy and relentless, but within these walls, everything was measured and deliberate. The setting seemed designed for moments that carried weight, for conversations that mattered. At their table, Clyde and Lilith sat poised within this carefully curated atmosphere, two siblings bound by history and shared blood, now occupying a space that reflected success, restraint, and unspoken tension.
“You look well, dear brother.” Lilith says in a silky smooth tone of voice. “I hope you do not mind this establishment. It is one of my favorites, although I am aware that you prefer…simpler tastes.”
“Lilith, you should be grateful that I showed up.” Clyde remarks coldly.
“I am quite grateful for your presence, dear brother.”
“Then do not bother me with your pleasantries.” Sutter says impatiently. He holds up one finger. “I am giving you this one chance, this one opportunity, so you should not waste it by trying to butter me up because you know it will not work. Whatever you want to say to me, just say it.”
“Were you always in this foul mood?” Lilith chuckles.
“Only when my patience is tried.” He answers back. “And you ARE trying my patience.”
“Oh try to be happy, dear brother. We are having a happy reunion. Yes, I am grateful that you are open to a family reunion.”
“You are making quite the assumption.”
“Am I?” She smirks devilishly. “You are here. Alone. Without your beloved. That speaks volumes.” She sips her wine. “Speaking of Ms. Braddock, did she enjoy her gift?”
“She was taken aback that you would get her such an expensive gift.”
“It comes from the heart, believe me.” Lilith responds. “I genuinely want peace, I want to rekindle our relationship.”
“We never had a relationship.” Clyde points out coldly. “I never even knew you existed until a year ago.”
“All the more reason to get to know each other. All the more reason to HELP each other.”
“What can you offer that would possibly help me?”
“You would be surprised at how far my reach extends. It is a shame you were defeated by Shaun Cruze at Shattered Reality. That should not have happened. SCW management should recognize you as the star that you are and they definitely should not be bringing back some tired old relic from the past. Then there’s Fatal Fortunes.” She sighs and shakes her head. “It is a shame that SCW is letting luck decide what happens next for you.”
“You call it luck, I call it Fate.” Clyde states confidently. “And Fate will smile upon me at Fatal Fortunes. I promise you.”
“There you go again, your talk about fate.” Lilith chuckles. “You believe that Fate is in control and, perhaps you are right, but that doesn’t mean you and everyone else in that locker room are powerless to act. There are things you can do to improve your standing, dear brother, regardless of fate.” She motions to herself. “And I can help you with that.”
“I must admit that your resources would be invaluable to my cause.” Clyde answers reluctantly.
“Your time working with the Page family and with The Fall of Man proves that you are not above accepting money, despite your belief in fate.”
“Fate’s will CANNOT be stopped.” Sutter insists. “It can be delayed…”
“See? That is precisely what I am talking about. There are ways you can improve your standing. You have helped other people, why not do something to help yourself? Let ME help you.”
“I must admit that you make a good case, sister.” Clyde pauses and then shakes his head. “But I cannot just ignore what you have done.”
“William Heaven and the Page family have done horrible things and yet when it comes to your family you will not turn a blind eye?” Lilith snickers. “Honestly, brother, I am not here to do you any harm. I want to help you, your fiancee too. You are my family, she is about to become family, and I want to work with my family.”
“You say that and yet I still have my doubts.” Clyde answers back. “Tell me, just out of curiosity, what exactly is that you could give me that I do not already have from people like the Page family or from Mr. Heaven or anyone else I do work for?”
“I have something that they do not have, that they COULD NOT have…” Lilith leans in close, a wicked smile on her face “...I have answers about our past.”
“Our past?” This instantly brings Clyde to attention. He had told Melinda Braddock that he had agreed to see Lilith for this one reason, because he has questions about his past and Lilith is the only connection he has to his past. Lilith notices that she has got his attention and she nods her head.
“Yes, dear brother. I was once just as in the dark about our shared past as you but I now have answers. I am not asking you to do anything illegal. I am not asking you to do anything unethical. I just want a relationship with my brother.”
“That’s all?” Sutter seems skeptical. Lilith nods her head.
“Yes. In return you will learn about our father. You will learn about Ethan Sutter.”
==========
December 28th, 2025
London, England
On Camera
==========
London moved around The Assassin with its usual sense of purpose, the city alive but never frantic, as if it had long ago mastered the art of motion without chaos. The street was busy without being overwhelming, a steady flow of people and vehicles passing through a landscape shaped by centuries of history and modern polish. Stone facades rose on either side, their details softened by time, while newer buildings of glass and steel reflected the muted daylight in clean, confident lines. The sky above was overcast but bright, the kind of grey that softened shadows rather than darkened them, casting the city in an even, flattering light. Clyde Sutter stood out without appearing to try. He was dressed impeccably, every element of his appearance deliberate and refined. His suit was tailored to perfection, cut to complement his well built frame while maintaining a clean, elegant silhouette. The jacket sat smoothly across his shoulders, the fabric rich and finely woven, catching subtle variations of light as he moved. Beneath it, a crisp dress shirt lay pressed and immaculate, its collar sharp and precise against his neck. The color was classic and restrained, chosen to enhance the overall look rather than distract from it. His trousers fell straight and clean, breaking neatly at the top of polished dress shoes that gleamed softly against the pavement. The shoes themselves were clearly well cared for, their leather smooth and unscuffed, reflecting the world around them in muted flashes. A belt of matching quality cinched the outfit together, understated and elegant. Nothing about his attire was excessive, yet everything spoke of intention and self awareness. Clyde’s long black hair had been styled back neatly, away from his face, revealing strong features and a composed expression. There was a seriousness to him, not harsh or unapproachable, but thoughtful and controlled. His posture was upright and confident, shoulders relaxed yet squared, as though he were fully aware of both himself and his surroundings. Years of discipline showed in the way he stood and walked, a quiet physical confidence that did not need to be asserted.
The street itself offered a rich backdrop to his presence. Traditional storefronts sat beside modern boutiques, their windows displaying carefully arranged goods that hinted at luxury and taste. Black iron railings lined the edge of the pavement in places, separating pedestrians from small raised gardens or historic buildings. Buses passed by with a low hum, their red forms a familiar splash of color against the neutral tones of the city. Taxis wove through traffic with practiced ease, horns used sparingly, communication more implied than enforced. People moved past Clyde, some glancing at him briefly before continuing on, others too absorbed in their own routines to notice. He blended into the rhythm of the city while still commanding his own space within it. The faint sounds of conversation drifted through the air, accents overlapping and blending, a reminder of London’s vast and varied population. Somewhere nearby, the clatter of dishes from a café spilled onto the street, accompanied by the aroma of coffee and fresh bread. Despite the activity around him, there was a sense of stillness in the moment. Clyde appeared unhurried, existing comfortably within the space between motion and pause. The city did not rush him, and he did not rush it. This was London at its most composed, and he matched it perfectly, a figure of quiet confidence and impeccable presentation framed by one of the world’s most enduring cities.
“Fate is in control. I have said this for a very long time now. Everything that happens is because Fate has willed it to be not because myself or someone else happened to be superior on any given night. Fate rules us all, and sometimes we need a reminder of that. I LOST at Shattered Reality. It had nothing to do with lack of preparedness…I was ready for what the so-called Impact Player brought to the table. It had nothing to do with resolve on either of our parts. I was most definitely resolved to put an end to his egomaniacal, arrogant return before it even began. It certainly had nothing to do with my will faltering. I lost to Mr. Cruze at Shattered Reality because Fate allowed it.” The Harbinger of Fate smirks.
“People in this line of work…professional wrestling…they like to dress up defeat in excuses. The momentum shifted. Corrupt referees or corrupt management. Or simply they ran out of luck on that particular night.” Sutter shakes his head. “I do not believe in luck. I believe in inevitability. I believe that every step taken is already accounted for long before the bell ever rings. Mr. Cruze defeated me not because he was destined for a grand return in SCW. He beat me because Fate allowed it. He defeated me because it was part of Fate’s grand plan and I, like everyone else on this roster, am not above Fate. I am not above it, I am not beneath it, I am WITHIN IT. I am not exempt from Fate’s will. No one is exempt from Fate’s will.” He points a finger at the camera.
“NONE OF YOU are exempt from Fate’s will. Not even you, Mr. Cruze. So enjoy your victory now because Fate will remind you, just like it reminded me, and just like it will remind everyone else on the SCW Roster very soon, that Fate STILL is in control. That’s where I come in. When Fate speaks, I listen. When Fate moves, I follow. When Fate demands blood, I deliver it. I am The Assassin not because I enjoy the act, not because I crave chaos, but because Fate does NOT negotiate. Fate does not hesitate. Fate ends things when they are meant to end and I am Fate’s instrument. I make certain that things end the way Fate intends. Now Fate brings us to Fatal Fortunes.” The Assassin snickers knowingly. The faintest hint of something almost resembling a smile crosses his face.
“Do you recall the last time SCW hosted a Fatal Fortunes? On that night I made my return to this company. I had been exiled from the company for a long time until Fate saw fit to reward me with this second chance. I threw my hat into the ring for Fatal Fortunes and I gave then SCW Adrenaline Champion Glory Braddock the single worst beating she has ever had. Yes, she retained her title, but not without taking a trip to the hospital. I sent a message to the entire company that night that I had returned, not as someone’s monster, but as The Harbinger of Fate, deadlier than ever. Now it has returned and I am still here, still implementing Fate’s will. And the will for this year’s Fatal Fortunes will be the same…”
“Random opponents.”
“Random rules.”
“Every championship defended but the champion will not know who they are defending against.” The Assassin snickers knowingly.
“Some may see this is as chaos, as a mere spectacle designed to entertain the masses. Men and women trembling at the thought of surrendering control to Fate. They fear randomness because it strips them of the illusion that they are in charge.” He shakes his head. “I do not fear it. I embrace it. What SCW calls random I call revelation. Fatal Fortunes is not chaos, it is truth. It is Fate with its mask torn away. No politics. No favoritism. No careful planning to protect egos. Just Fate with its hand on the steering wheel.” He pats himself on his massive chest.
“This event was built for someone like me. Someone who does not need certainty. Someone who does not need comfort. Someone who understands that destiny does its best work when control is taken from human hands. I do not choose my victims. Fate does. I do not choose the rules. Fate does. I do not choose the prize. Fate does. And I will accept whatever it gives me. A champion. A legend. A rookie. A stipulation designed to cripple or humiliate. It makes no difference. The outcome will be the same. I will walk into that ring. I will listen. And I will act.” He straightens, posture unyielding.
“To everyone else in Fatal Fortunes, understand this. You are not unlucky. You are not being wronged. You are being summoned. If your name is drawn against mine, that is not coincidence. That is a sentence. I am The Harbinger of Fate. I do not promise victory. I promise inevitability. Whatever happens in that ring was always meant to happen the moment your name crossed paths with mine. And know this…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