Yesterday, 10:25 AM
2 of 2
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May 18th, 2026
Yorkshire, England
Off Camera
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The meeting hall stood at the end of a narrow dirt lane, half reclaimed by nature and half forgotten by everyone except the occasional wanderer who passed through rural Yorkshire with more curiosity than purpose. The structure itself had once been proud, now it sagged under the weight of time. The roof had lost tiles in uneven patches, allowing thin shafts of afternoon light to pierce through wherever the clouds shifted. Moss climbed in soft green blankets up the stone walls, and ivy had crept its way across the old wooden door, curling like fingers around a long silent entrance. Inside, the air was cool with the faint scent of damp wood and untouched dust. The place felt as though it had been sealed away for decades, left to slumber in its own stillness. Rows of wooden benches, warped and splintered by age, lined the sides of the rectangular hall. They were arranged haphazardly, some pushed aside by time or collapsed under their own weakened supports. In the center of the room lay a stretch of worn floorboards, their grain faded from countless footsteps that had once crossed them. Every sound, even the softest shuffle of a boot, echoed faintly, carried by the empty, hollow space that seemed to hold on to every noise as if starved for voices. Tall windows stood on either side of the hall, their panes clouded by dust and streaked with rain that had seeped through countless storms. Only a few clear patches allowed glimpses of the countryside outside. The fields stretched out in muted winter colors, textured with low stone walls and framed by the faint blue shadow of distant hills.
Clyde Sutter stepped further inside, his tall, muscular frame filling the doorway for a moment before he moved into the center of the hall. He looked almost too solid, too alive, for a place so still. His long black hair, tied loosely at the nape of his neck, caught the stray beams of light that broke through the roof. He wore a thick dark jacket over a plain gray shirt, the fabric stretched comfortably across his broad chest. His jeans were sturdy and worn, the color faded by long use and the occasional brush with rough terrain. Mud clung to the edges of his boots. Behind him, Lilith Sutter stepped across the threshold with a markedly different presence. She paused in the entrance for just a moment, taking in the lingering calm of the room. Her long black hair, glossy and impeccably smooth, looked almost out of place against the rustic ruin of the hall. She had dressed with her usual sense of elegance, even for a day spent in such an isolated place. A fitted wool coat in a deep wine color wrapped around her frame, tailored perfectly to her slim shoulders and narrow waist. Beneath it, a pale cashmere sweater complemented the softness of her expression while a long skirt in a flowing dark fabric moved lightly around her ankles with each step. Her heeled boots were clearly not made for the countryside, but she carried herself as though the uneven floorboards were no challenge at all. Lilith brushed a gloved hand lightly over the nearest bench as she passed it, her touch sending up a faint puff of dust that drifted lazily in the quiet air.
Together they walked deeper into the hall, the echo of their footsteps overlapping in the vast, hollow room. Droplets of water fell steadily from one of the gaps in the ceiling, hitting a metal bucket left behind by someone long before, the rhythmic sound filling the silence like a slow, steady heartbeat. An old notice board leaned crookedly against the far wall, its once colorful flyers now brittle, faded, and curling at the edges. A forgotten broom rested in the corner, its bristles scattered and broken. Clyde paused near the center of the hall, where the boards beneath his boots creaked in protest. He studied the space with a focused expression, as though trying to picture the hall in its former life when voices and movement had filled it rather than dust and ghosts of memory. Lilith came to stand beside him, her coat brushing lightly against his sleeve, her gaze drifting upward to the beams overhead where cobwebs hung like delicate veils.
“Such a pleasant place, wouldn’t you agree?” Lilith asks with a note of sarcasm in her voice. Clyde, however, is not in the mood for her games today.
“You know, sister, I have endured your cryptic nonsense for a long time now.” He begins. “I have endured it because I really wanted answers about my father…”
“Our father.”
“Whatever. I wanted answers, you had them, and I wanted them. I promised I would endure your games to get them. So far you have taken me to the abandoned orphanage where I grew up, an old pub where we scared a homeless man half to death, the records office, and now here, to this abandoned building that appears as if it could fall in at any second.”
“And with each stop I have revealed more and more of the truth.” Lilith points out. “I have kept up my end of the bargain.”
“Yes and the truth I am hearing is not to my liking.”
“I never said the truth would be easy.” She states. “I just said it would be the truth.”
A breeze slipped through one of the cracked windowpanes, carrying with it the faint scent of cold earth and distant chimney smoke from a farmhouse far beyond view. It stirred loose strands of Lilith’s hair and ruffled the hem of Clyde’s jacket. The temperature in the hall remained cool, bordering on cold, but neither sibling seemed eager to leave. The remote, forgotten nature of the place gave them a rare privacy, a sense that whatever brought them here could be discussed without interruption from the outside world. The last of the afternoon light slanted across the floor, painting long, angled shapes that slowly stretched toward dusk. The hall felt suspended in time, waiting, holding its breath. Clyde shifted his weight, his boots scraping softly against the boards. Lilith turned her head toward him, her expression composed but carrying an undertone of anticipation, as if she knew the moment for words had finally arrived.
“I need to travel back to the United States soon. My beloved is waiting on me. We have to be ready for Breakdown. I have to fight and defeat Chris Lawler. That pissant is owed a beating.”
“Here I thought you only cared about Fate?” Lilith asks. “Isn’t it up to Fate whether you beat up Mr. Lawler?”
“He WILL get a beating!” Sutter snaps angrily. He pauses and takes in a deep breath to compose himself. He refuses to let his sister get to him. “Yes, I want to win, and I WILL win. This is why your games need to end, so I can focus on the task at hand. So do tell me, sister, will the games end this evening? Will I finally get the truth out of you?”
“Yes, you shall.”
“Good.”
“First of all, it is time to clear up some rumors. You spoke of a cult.”
“Yes.” The Assassin nods his head. “The rumors were that Ethan Sutter…our father…ran this strange cult and that he used his influence as its charismatic leader to take advantage of the female members.”
“Did that rumor create some of the anger and rage built up inside of you?”
“I admit that it did bother me, yes.” He nods his head. “And from what you have told me, that our father had so many connections to wealthy people, that he apparently had numerous children from numerous mistresses, it seems as if it could be true.”
“Well there is a kernel of truth to every myth.” Lilith states.
“Was he part of a cult? Yes or no.” Clyde demands, growing more frustrated.
“Some might call it a cult due to their strange behaviors and odd rituals but it wasn’t religious.” She shakes her head. “It was far from anything that resembled an organized religious force.”
“So what was it?”
“I would compare it to the Manson Family.”
“Charles Manson and his gang?”
“Yes, them.” Lilith nods her head. “Our father began as more of a teacher than a leader. He taught about fate and fatalism just as fiercely as you do today.”
“Bloody hell…” Clyde snarls. He cannot believe that he seems to have become his father, the very man he hated for abandoning him. But the story is not over. Lilith continues.
“Everyone began looking up to him almost in a spiritual sense. They were willing to do anything for him. So Ethan had his devoted followers committing crimes to create a financial power base.”
“So it was a bastardized mix of a cult and organized crime?”
“You could put it that way.” Lilith nods her head in agreement. “Certain members of Ethan’s organization worked at the orphanage where your mother left you. That’s how our father kept track of you.”
“Something still doesn’t add up.” He shakes his head. “If our father was simply the charismatic leader of a Manson family like gang, how did they have enough money to create the kind of powerbase you described to me? How could they keep track of his male children? How do you create the kind of connections you claim he had? You don’t create that kind of a powerful organization through petty crime.”
“You’re right, you don’t grow to be that powerful through petty crime.” Lilith shakes her head. “Cults and gangs like Ethan’s are a draw for children who do not feel accepted by society or who want to run away to escape their problems. One such runaway was a teenage girl who wanted to escape her own very dangerous life.”
“And she thought joining our father’s gang would be safe?” Clyde asks incredulously. Lilith smirks knowingly.
“It might be just as safe or safer than being the daughter of a mafia crime boss.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, the girl was a powerful mob boss’s daughter. She kept it hidden from our father but when he finally learned her secret he sent her back to her father.”
“Let me guess…her father was so grateful that he gave him access to some of his own mafia resources?”
“Indeed.”
There is a tension in the air as The Assassin begins pacing the floor. His anger boils over and he punches the wall angrily.
“Damn it!”
“Calm yourself.” Lilith insists. “I never said the truth would be easy.”
“You do not understand!” He exclaims. “I never wanted to become like him! Yet here I am, just like him…”
“Only in the sense that you both seem obsessed with fate.” Lilith points out. “Also do not act like the victim here; you were gifted opportunity because you were a son. I was a daughter and therefore was ignored. Be grateful.”
“Yes…” he sighs “...you are correct. I apologize. But hearing this and accepting this is not easy.”
“No, it isn’t; it wasn’t easy for me, either. This is why when I first approached you I insistsed upon you taking up the mantle as the chosen heir, because I believed that is what our father would have wanted. But your stubborn refusal helped to open my eyes to the realization that we do not have to be like our father. We can be different. We do not have to follow in his footsteps.”
“What are you implying?”
“I still wish to work you, brother.” She places a hand upon his shoulder. “The organization I created, that I inherited from the ruins of our father’s empire, has a great many resources to offer that can help you and The Vision both.”
“So you wish to help me? And my beloved? And Fiona?”
“That is what I said.” She nods her head. “Following your career has given me an interest in professional wrestling as a potential new business venture, one I would like to dip my toe in. If you would like a partner, that is?”
“I…” he sighs and shakes his head “...I’m not sure. I have a lot to think about. I would also have to discuss this with Fiona and my beloved Melinda.”
“Of course.” She nods her head. “There is absolutely no rush. Take all the time you need before giving me an answer.”
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May 18th, 2026
Yorkshire, England
Off Camera
==========
The meeting hall stood at the end of a narrow dirt lane, half reclaimed by nature and half forgotten by everyone except the occasional wanderer who passed through rural Yorkshire with more curiosity than purpose. The structure itself had once been proud, now it sagged under the weight of time. The roof had lost tiles in uneven patches, allowing thin shafts of afternoon light to pierce through wherever the clouds shifted. Moss climbed in soft green blankets up the stone walls, and ivy had crept its way across the old wooden door, curling like fingers around a long silent entrance. Inside, the air was cool with the faint scent of damp wood and untouched dust. The place felt as though it had been sealed away for decades, left to slumber in its own stillness. Rows of wooden benches, warped and splintered by age, lined the sides of the rectangular hall. They were arranged haphazardly, some pushed aside by time or collapsed under their own weakened supports. In the center of the room lay a stretch of worn floorboards, their grain faded from countless footsteps that had once crossed them. Every sound, even the softest shuffle of a boot, echoed faintly, carried by the empty, hollow space that seemed to hold on to every noise as if starved for voices. Tall windows stood on either side of the hall, their panes clouded by dust and streaked with rain that had seeped through countless storms. Only a few clear patches allowed glimpses of the countryside outside. The fields stretched out in muted winter colors, textured with low stone walls and framed by the faint blue shadow of distant hills.
Clyde Sutter stepped further inside, his tall, muscular frame filling the doorway for a moment before he moved into the center of the hall. He looked almost too solid, too alive, for a place so still. His long black hair, tied loosely at the nape of his neck, caught the stray beams of light that broke through the roof. He wore a thick dark jacket over a plain gray shirt, the fabric stretched comfortably across his broad chest. His jeans were sturdy and worn, the color faded by long use and the occasional brush with rough terrain. Mud clung to the edges of his boots. Behind him, Lilith Sutter stepped across the threshold with a markedly different presence. She paused in the entrance for just a moment, taking in the lingering calm of the room. Her long black hair, glossy and impeccably smooth, looked almost out of place against the rustic ruin of the hall. She had dressed with her usual sense of elegance, even for a day spent in such an isolated place. A fitted wool coat in a deep wine color wrapped around her frame, tailored perfectly to her slim shoulders and narrow waist. Beneath it, a pale cashmere sweater complemented the softness of her expression while a long skirt in a flowing dark fabric moved lightly around her ankles with each step. Her heeled boots were clearly not made for the countryside, but she carried herself as though the uneven floorboards were no challenge at all. Lilith brushed a gloved hand lightly over the nearest bench as she passed it, her touch sending up a faint puff of dust that drifted lazily in the quiet air.
Together they walked deeper into the hall, the echo of their footsteps overlapping in the vast, hollow room. Droplets of water fell steadily from one of the gaps in the ceiling, hitting a metal bucket left behind by someone long before, the rhythmic sound filling the silence like a slow, steady heartbeat. An old notice board leaned crookedly against the far wall, its once colorful flyers now brittle, faded, and curling at the edges. A forgotten broom rested in the corner, its bristles scattered and broken. Clyde paused near the center of the hall, where the boards beneath his boots creaked in protest. He studied the space with a focused expression, as though trying to picture the hall in its former life when voices and movement had filled it rather than dust and ghosts of memory. Lilith came to stand beside him, her coat brushing lightly against his sleeve, her gaze drifting upward to the beams overhead where cobwebs hung like delicate veils.
“Such a pleasant place, wouldn’t you agree?” Lilith asks with a note of sarcasm in her voice. Clyde, however, is not in the mood for her games today.
“You know, sister, I have endured your cryptic nonsense for a long time now.” He begins. “I have endured it because I really wanted answers about my father…”
“Our father.”
“Whatever. I wanted answers, you had them, and I wanted them. I promised I would endure your games to get them. So far you have taken me to the abandoned orphanage where I grew up, an old pub where we scared a homeless man half to death, the records office, and now here, to this abandoned building that appears as if it could fall in at any second.”
“And with each stop I have revealed more and more of the truth.” Lilith points out. “I have kept up my end of the bargain.”
“Yes and the truth I am hearing is not to my liking.”
“I never said the truth would be easy.” She states. “I just said it would be the truth.”
A breeze slipped through one of the cracked windowpanes, carrying with it the faint scent of cold earth and distant chimney smoke from a farmhouse far beyond view. It stirred loose strands of Lilith’s hair and ruffled the hem of Clyde’s jacket. The temperature in the hall remained cool, bordering on cold, but neither sibling seemed eager to leave. The remote, forgotten nature of the place gave them a rare privacy, a sense that whatever brought them here could be discussed without interruption from the outside world. The last of the afternoon light slanted across the floor, painting long, angled shapes that slowly stretched toward dusk. The hall felt suspended in time, waiting, holding its breath. Clyde shifted his weight, his boots scraping softly against the boards. Lilith turned her head toward him, her expression composed but carrying an undertone of anticipation, as if she knew the moment for words had finally arrived.
“I need to travel back to the United States soon. My beloved is waiting on me. We have to be ready for Breakdown. I have to fight and defeat Chris Lawler. That pissant is owed a beating.”
“Here I thought you only cared about Fate?” Lilith asks. “Isn’t it up to Fate whether you beat up Mr. Lawler?”
“He WILL get a beating!” Sutter snaps angrily. He pauses and takes in a deep breath to compose himself. He refuses to let his sister get to him. “Yes, I want to win, and I WILL win. This is why your games need to end, so I can focus on the task at hand. So do tell me, sister, will the games end this evening? Will I finally get the truth out of you?”
“Yes, you shall.”
“Good.”
“First of all, it is time to clear up some rumors. You spoke of a cult.”
“Yes.” The Assassin nods his head. “The rumors were that Ethan Sutter…our father…ran this strange cult and that he used his influence as its charismatic leader to take advantage of the female members.”
“Did that rumor create some of the anger and rage built up inside of you?”
“I admit that it did bother me, yes.” He nods his head. “And from what you have told me, that our father had so many connections to wealthy people, that he apparently had numerous children from numerous mistresses, it seems as if it could be true.”
“Well there is a kernel of truth to every myth.” Lilith states.
“Was he part of a cult? Yes or no.” Clyde demands, growing more frustrated.
“Some might call it a cult due to their strange behaviors and odd rituals but it wasn’t religious.” She shakes her head. “It was far from anything that resembled an organized religious force.”
“So what was it?”
“I would compare it to the Manson Family.”
“Charles Manson and his gang?”
“Yes, them.” Lilith nods her head. “Our father began as more of a teacher than a leader. He taught about fate and fatalism just as fiercely as you do today.”
“Bloody hell…” Clyde snarls. He cannot believe that he seems to have become his father, the very man he hated for abandoning him. But the story is not over. Lilith continues.
“Everyone began looking up to him almost in a spiritual sense. They were willing to do anything for him. So Ethan had his devoted followers committing crimes to create a financial power base.”
“So it was a bastardized mix of a cult and organized crime?”
“You could put it that way.” Lilith nods her head in agreement. “Certain members of Ethan’s organization worked at the orphanage where your mother left you. That’s how our father kept track of you.”
“Something still doesn’t add up.” He shakes his head. “If our father was simply the charismatic leader of a Manson family like gang, how did they have enough money to create the kind of powerbase you described to me? How could they keep track of his male children? How do you create the kind of connections you claim he had? You don’t create that kind of a powerful organization through petty crime.”
“You’re right, you don’t grow to be that powerful through petty crime.” Lilith shakes her head. “Cults and gangs like Ethan’s are a draw for children who do not feel accepted by society or who want to run away to escape their problems. One such runaway was a teenage girl who wanted to escape her own very dangerous life.”
“And she thought joining our father’s gang would be safe?” Clyde asks incredulously. Lilith smirks knowingly.
“It might be just as safe or safer than being the daughter of a mafia crime boss.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, the girl was a powerful mob boss’s daughter. She kept it hidden from our father but when he finally learned her secret he sent her back to her father.”
“Let me guess…her father was so grateful that he gave him access to some of his own mafia resources?”
“Indeed.”
There is a tension in the air as The Assassin begins pacing the floor. His anger boils over and he punches the wall angrily.
“Damn it!”
“Calm yourself.” Lilith insists. “I never said the truth would be easy.”
“You do not understand!” He exclaims. “I never wanted to become like him! Yet here I am, just like him…”
“Only in the sense that you both seem obsessed with fate.” Lilith points out. “Also do not act like the victim here; you were gifted opportunity because you were a son. I was a daughter and therefore was ignored. Be grateful.”
“Yes…” he sighs “...you are correct. I apologize. But hearing this and accepting this is not easy.”
“No, it isn’t; it wasn’t easy for me, either. This is why when I first approached you I insistsed upon you taking up the mantle as the chosen heir, because I believed that is what our father would have wanted. But your stubborn refusal helped to open my eyes to the realization that we do not have to be like our father. We can be different. We do not have to follow in his footsteps.”
“What are you implying?”
“I still wish to work you, brother.” She places a hand upon his shoulder. “The organization I created, that I inherited from the ruins of our father’s empire, has a great many resources to offer that can help you and The Vision both.”
“So you wish to help me? And my beloved? And Fiona?”
“That is what I said.” She nods her head. “Following your career has given me an interest in professional wrestling as a potential new business venture, one I would like to dip my toe in. If you would like a partner, that is?”
“I…” he sighs and shakes his head “...I’m not sure. I have a lot to think about. I would also have to discuss this with Fiona and my beloved Melinda.”
“Of course.” She nods her head. “There is absolutely no rush. Take all the time you need before giving me an answer.”
![[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