SCW World Championship Gauntlet

[SnowQueenSCW]

The Dark Side of the Sun

”The Price For Admission”

Office of the Mayor
Nome, Alaska
February 16th, 2021
1:13pm

She had been sitting in that lobby – she quickly flicked her wrist to gaze at the black, Nixon Kensington watch strapped there to be sure – two hours. Yes, she was certain she had been there at least that long because when she had sat down and checked her watch when she had first arrived, she had noticed how the little hand of the watch pointed at eleven and the little hand pointed at the big hand pointed at the one to make an asymmetrical ‘V’ that she thought was cute.

Which meant that this would be the third time in as many hours that she needed to get out of her chair, crimson and leather, and need to walk the stiffness out of her legs…

With a quiet sigh, Selena pushed against the black material of her pant suit, using her knees to stand and fighting back the groan that threatened to leave her throat as the blood in the rest of her body began fully rushing down her legs, reawakening her toes. She adjusted the buttons of her top, redoing them up to cover part of the white undershirt she wore. Her hair was pulled back into it’s iconic Frost-braid, with the top pushed forward a little show a bit more volume. The only thing that the woman needed to further complete the “business woman” look would be a pair of glasses – though her eyesight didn’t require it, so it wasn’t worn.

Slowly, Selena took a few steps across the lobby, taking in the same details she had for the last two hours: potted plants that looked more fake than real, pictures on the wall of the mayor shaking hands with various people she knew from Nome, Alaska. Everyone knows everyone…nothing to really brag about… Selena thought until a sound behind her grabbed her attention, her black heeled shoes turning with her to observe the maker of the noise – the secretary lowering her plain white cup of coffee onto her desk which was covered by the attached ‘lobby-counter’.

“Must be some meeting, huh?” Selena remarked at the woman, crossing her arms as she regarded the woman. The secretary merely nodded her head, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her. The same woman had told Selena, when the platinum-blonde had arrived, that the mayor was in a meeting and would not see anyone until it had concluded – and to add a nice little ‘cherry’ on top, when Selena had mentioned her name and asked when the meeting would conclude, the secretary had merely shrugged her shoulders in response.

Oh it was beyond rude, Selena was certain of that. She had called the mayor the second she had finished her conversation with Talia days ago (she had used Talia’s phone to make use of the ‘personal family number’). Of course, even for Talia’s phone number, there had been no pickup, which was fine with the young Frost, who had left a clear message.

It’s Selena. I’m coming in to see you. I’ll be there Thursday. Make time.

After so many years of dealing with that bastard, Selena knew how to deal with him. This wasn’t the mysterious “Frost/Frostmere clan” or Fredric Castle… no, those had/were people that Selena knew very little…

But Malcolm Scythe? Oh she knew him. She knew this man.

And direct was the only way that she would get anywhere with him. Still, that she had walked into a meeting that was still running and waited for two hours to see him? It’s freakin’ Nome! What the hell could they be talking about that needs two hours to discuss?! ‘Should we change the dead-end on the side of Horton’s into a parking space or leave it as is? DISCUSS!’

She didn’t laugh at her own humor, but she did find it amusing, picturing all the crusty, old men sitting at a big table, huffing and wheezing their breaths out as they pretended to give a damn about Nome or its residents. Yeah, while people like my father and I were freezing during the winters – which ran year long… Selena grumbled in her thoughts. These asses were probably basting in their private saunas like cooked turkeys!

She kept her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against one of the pillars that stood as part of the wall. There was only one large window in the room and it stood just to the right of the door, meaning Selena had no desire to walk over to it just for the secretary to assume she was going to the door again and respond “he’s not done his meeting yet” in that high-pitched, whiny voice of hers-

Gods, and I thought Syren talking was bad. Selena rolled her sapphire eyes. 

She knew that she was risking much, in terms of her career, by doing this – at least in the immediate short-term. Breakdown, and the World Title Gauntlet match, was just two days away and instead of being in Cleveland, preparing to face any of 14 other wrestlers, she was here. 

To say that Selena was worried about the match would have been an understatement. I mean, it was one thing to be realistic – considering odd of winning either through a lucky draw, luck of will, or sheer stamina – she had accepted that. She knew the odds were heavy against her in regards to emerging as the World champion, and she still, a few days after her last promo, hadn’t grown any more confident that she could. Quite the opposite, after spending her travelling time listening in to the first few promos that some superstars had shown, Selena was even less confident that she stood a chance, though she did her best to hide it.

But she couldn’t blame them. People like Kimberly and Jordan – they had never held the World title before, both them coming close in the past but not quite succeeding. But the way they had spoken – with such conviction and confidence… faith in themselves… Selena missed that. She craved that again. Craved to have an ounce of their optimism, but the past year had slowly, bit by bit, stripped her of it until only a shred remained – enough for her to stay in the match where Cookie Dreams had chosen to decline. 

But losing? That wasn’t what terrified the young woman. Hell, there would be 14 people that would be right there with her if she did – some of whom could easily be friends of hers. No, what worried Selena had been the same plaguing notion in her head for the past year. Being fazed out, being forgotten, being seen as nothing more than a ‘replacement’ or something to that effect. The constant presence of that notion had been what had been killing her enthusiasm to go to work, her love for her sister, Regan, being the sole driving force, which was gone now with Regan’s injury…

She gets lost in the melee and becomes the ‘Face of Milk Cartons’!

She had heard that comment somewhere, thought she couldn’t recall. Youtube? The SCW Forums? No, Twitter was more likely. Still, Selena had read and heard much worse and yet, this one, it had stuck with her. Not the ‘Face of Milk Cartons’ thing – that was just a bad joke… and ‘Dairy Queen’ would have been so much funnier! No… the remark of her being lost in the melee…

That was her fear. Just being ‘one of the many’ that was swept under the rug, another endeavour where she was just a statistic rather than a standout for what she believed in, what she worked hard for…

Again, despite herself, the thoughts of returning home to Oberwessel appeared and were just as attractive as the last time she considered. The reminder that she was wanted there. Needed there. Part of a family there… it was why she was here in Nome now… for her family-

The door opened, immediately grabbing Selena’s attention as, before her eyes, dressed in a suit but not as pressed and clean as hers – or maybe it was just the colors of black and orange (dress shirt) that made it seem off - stood the mayor.

“Ah, Selena.” Malcolm grinned, rubbing his hands knowingly. “Have you been waiting long?” the smug smile, if it could, seemed ready to grow right off his face. It was merely the truth rearing its ugly head upon the young woman.

There was no pretending between them. No exchange or ‘imitation’. The hands had been revealed from the start – the second Selena had made that call and left that message. Selena would never have come back here – to the town part of her hated – unless she needed to and even less likely was her deliberately seeking out the man she hated far more than the town. No, the way Malcolm Scythe smiled, the way he regarded the slightly shorter woman with a tilt of his head… It was all an affirmation to the truth that he was the holding with the power in this meeting.

“Do come in.” he beckoned with a turn, his back now to Selena as he retreated back into his personal office space, leaving Selena to follow him, and despite her desire to march in with authority, the young woman fought against it, steeling herself, steadying her posture and walking gracefully into the office, her heels clicking against the marbled floor.

As she crossed the threshold, however, she was taken aback for a brief moment. Not due to the familiar opulence of the space (a self-glorifying office for a man like Malcolm) but rather how devoid it was of… well, anyone except them.

Did that son of a bitch make me wait out here just to…

“Tell me…” Malcolm asked, moving around his desk to sit in his maroon and gold trimmed chair. “How is my daughter-in-law doing?”
“Recovering.” Selena replied simply, refusing to expose her emotions. She wasn’t going to let him see her flustered or thrown off. She refused to give him the satisfaction. “She’s been in good care.” She added

Malcolm gave a nod as he reached out for something on his desk. With a flick of his wrist, he plucked up a simple letter opener while his other hand retrieved the “stone” it was ‘embedded’ in. Turning the ‘stone’ around, he began running the blade of the – Selena couldn’t call it a sword, and even a knife seemed too much. It was a letter opener, pure and simple – letter opener against the stone’s side, as if sharpening it.

“I suppose that is good news.” He remarked to Selena’s earlier words. “Though quite frankly, I don’t know why you or those castle groundkeepers put in the effort.” He added matter-of-factly. “It’s not like she has done you any good.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Selena stated simply, staying in her spot in front of the desk.

“Oh?” Malcolm asked. “Has there been new developments? Is your wife out of prison? Are my grandchildren reunited with their mother – well, their other mother, right?”

Selena remained silent, her jaw slowly clenching as Malcolm, taking her silence as a cue, continued to run his letter opener against the stone in his hand. “All is well here.” He sighed. “Thank you for asking.”

“I didn’t ask.” Selena replied. “We both know I care very little about this town and even less about you. Those that DO matter to me, I contact personally.”

“Yes, like your Uncle Liam?” Scythe asked, though his eyes kept on his ‘knife’ and ‘sword’ as they worked. “Or perhaps Jean and Zoe? Did you know they’ve begun talking about marriage plans again?”

Selena sighed and rubbed her temples with her hand. “Are you done playing, Malcolm?” she asked. “Because I’ve already had enough of these games after waiting two hours.”

The old man smiled at that, his trim beard moving a little with his expression, the black, gray and white colors are standing out to Selena’s sight. “Duty calls, my dear.” He simply shrugged. “We all must do what we must do – obligations and all that.”

Slowly, Selena crossed her arms over her chest. “Then get to it then. What do I have to do to get the files?”
“Files?”
“Malcolm…” Selena warned. “Remember that I STILL hold some power over you.” She stated. “It wouldn’t take much for me to bring THAT to the light. But as it stands, you and I had a bargain on that… but if you keep pushing me with this ‘playing dumb’.”

“What did you expect? Hmmm?” Malcolm asked with delight, pushing himself out of his chair and onto his feet. “Positions of power, however temporary, are to be savoured. Tell me I’m wrong.” His eyes narrowed. “The day you strolled into my office with all you knew – taking your time, drawling out each word and savouring it – do not lie to me and say you didn’t.”

Both were silent as Malcolm strolled around the large table that served as his desk. “People like us, Selena, like your step-mother, when we see victory in our grasp, it isn’t enough to simply take it. We need to savour. Enjoy it. Be patient with it because once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

Selena opened her mouth to speak but then suddenly closed it – because, dammit, she couldn’t deny it. She had savoured standing over Xander Valentine when they fought at Rise to Greatness, and gods, how she had loved standing above him after the End of the Year match, it being her kick that, once again, was the final shot that took the bastard down! 

And yes, she had enjoyed taking down Malcolm Scythe! Why not? Didn’t she have a right too? The man had tried to kidnap her children, threatened her wife, and killed her stepmother, Anastasia! He deserved far worse than that but she wasn’t strong enough – and maybe never would be – to do something about it.

Still, as the mayor stood there, arms crossed over his suited chest, leaning against the desk, Selena pulled back any objections or anger she felt. They would do her no good in this.

“Fine.” Selena stated. “But does it feel deserved, Malcolm? If it weren’t for Talia handing those files to you, accidental as it was, you wouldn’t really have anything, would you? In fact…” her tone slowed, drawing out each word. “I’d say that you owe Talia quite a great deal for the ‘power’ you think you have over me.”

“As you owe Anastasia for the power you had over me.” Malcolm stated.
“Oh I do.” Selena agreed. “But I’m not ashamed to say that my step-mother, my wife – my family – and I beat you, Malcolm. Can you say that? That you AND your daughter-in-law beat me? That the woman you banished, saw as a bad investment, put you in a position of power that you, alone, couldn’t achieve?”

It was Malcolm’s turn to have his expression sour. 

“Well, go on!” Selena encouraged. “I said it. Let’s hear you say it!”

Silence met her, causing a knowing smile to come across her face. “Oh…” she mocked a little. “You can’t, can you? Hmmm, you know you remind me of someone I work with.” The platinum-blonde mused, pacing through the office space, her eyes kept away from the mayor. “She, too, has had tremendous power of me – over a lot of people – in the past. And yet… it’s all with the help of other people. Associates… or family… always different.” Selena sighed. “So many people like that and yet they have the same thing in common: They can’t admit how much they need those people. How they would have nothing without those people giving them the tools and the power…”

Running her hand along the cushioning of a nearby chair, Selena turned back around to regard Malcolm. “I find that rather debilitating, don’t you? Savouring victory is one thing but if you are so egotistical that you can’t acknowledge others that helped you, if they did – then that’s just a lie you need to keep feeding yourself over and over again, don’t you? Keep pretending even when it becomes more and more blatantly untrue. I can’t imagine such delusion… it borders on insanity, don’t you think?”

“Well…” Malcolm replied slowly, shrugging his shoulders, the tension in his face suddenly gone. “I don’t know about that.” He asked. “You’re more the expert on such matter, right? Do you still look at snowmen the same way?”

The remark caused Selena to scoff without meeting to. “Low hanging branch much?” She asked. “Is that what we’re reduced to, Malcolm? How’s your sons doing? Gavin still renounced you? Ryan-“
“Don’t you mean ‘Adrian’?” Malcolm teased, using the name Selena had called the mayor’s son when they had been in love and engaged.
“No.” Selena replied coldly, sapphire eyes narrowed. “I mean Ryan, nice try though.”

“Well, I can honestly say that, as a father, I’ve done all I can for my sons. One is set to inherit much of what I have and the other… well…” his eyes went dark, boring into Selena’s. “At least I made him smart enough to know not to play with fire.”

Mommy… it hurts… it hurts so much…
I know, my snowflake, please be strong… we’ll get through this…
She won’t take the gloves off now… she’s too afraid to show the damage.
I wish I could fix them for you, my darling… But I’m not… not strong enough…
They’re hideous… just like me…

There it was, and Malcolm saw it in Selena’s eyes. The raw nerve, the button, going too far… and he knew he had. “Is this where you kick me in the head?” he asked, a slight shake in his voice.

“I’d certainly like to.” Selena growled darkly.
“I know.” Malcolm smiled, was there sadness in that smile. “I will not apologize, but I will end this prattling game once and for all and we can focus on terms after you answer me something. Alright?”

She inhaled deeply through her nose, her mind twisting and repeating her mantra without hesitation. Conceal… Don’t feel… over and over again, trying to quell the rage that reminded her of when she fought Xander or when she fought Bree Lancaster, but far more intense.

“Ask.” She ordered. “But if you keep wasting my time, I am leaving.”
“Indeed.” Sighed Malcolm, his age actually showing for a moment. “We both overstepped.” He stated. “We both have egos and both will become defensive, won’t me? Always fighting to get the last word in?”

“Just. Ask. Your. Question.” Ordered Selena, stressing each word.
“My question is: have you looked into burn surgeries for Elsianna?” 

The question caught Selena off-guard, forcing her to remain quiet as the older man continued. “Burns like that, perhaps surgery-“
“Stop.” Selena warned. “I already tried. And if there was a way, I’d have done it.”

For a brief moment, Selena thought she saw the barest hint of sadness in Malcolm’s eyes, but it was gone in a flash as the man nodded his head. “Very well.” He replied briskly, moving back around to his desk. A second later, he had opened a drawer and produced a small, red USB drive, placing it on top of the desk before Selena’s eyes.

“Is that…” sapphire eyes widened.
“Yes.” Stated Malcolm. “I even had it decrypted for you.”
The young woman’s head jerked up, eyes wide, as she heard those words. “You did?!” she asked in disbelief. “How?!” 

“Please, child.” Scoffed the mayor. “All of Talia’s contacts came from me. For every one ‘hacker’ she knows, I know ten. It was not difficult.”
“Does it…” she paused, unable to stop the hope that spiked in her chest. “Have you read it?”
“Yes.” Malcolm admitted. “And yes, therein lies the key to free your wife.”

A myriad of emotions bombarded Selena as she stood there, the key to her wife’s freedom – their reunion – within her reach: disbelief, doubt, fear, hope – all bounding together before settling on one thing, one resounding image in her head: Taking her beloved him, holding her in her arms and never letting her go again…

Before she knew it, her hand reached out, shaking of it is own accord as she felt tears stinging under her eyes. 

It all stopped and faded away in a second as she felt a withered hand, Malcolm’s press over hers gently, surprising her for a moment that it was warm to the touch. “Ah…easy.” Malcolm spoke, his tone, surprisingly gently, as if to guide Selena back to reality. “We both know it cannot be that easy.”

The words hit, but they did not hurt. Now that she knew that whatever was on that drive could free her wife. Slowly, though, she withdrew her hand, her mask of poise slipping back into place until the hand was back at her side. She lifted her gaze, staring back at Malcolm, her eyes devoid of the emotion she had just held. “Your price?”

“There we go.” Malcolm smiled amused.
“What is it, Malcolm?” Selena asked. “Money?”
“Don’t need it.”
“The mine?” 
“No.”
“You can’t have my children.”

“Oh please.” Malcolm laughed. “No, what I want is simple and yet… far from easy.” He strolled back around to Selena’s side. “I want this to be over between us.”
“It is over.” Selena stated. “It was over when I-“
“No, Selena, you’re not getting it.” Malcolm stated. “I want this to be over on MY terms. With ME as the victor between you and I.”

Selena was quiet, trying to process what the man was asking of her. “How? You don’t want my money, my family, the mine – there is nothing else I can give you.”
“Oh… there is one thing.” Malcolm stated, his eyes focused on something Selena couldn’t pinpoint. “Something only you have. Something that you would never willingly surrender unless you were… beaten.”

It wasn’t until he had finished that statement that Selena realized how close the man suddenly was. So close that she felt the letter-opener, shaped like a magical sword, drifting up the side of her body. Her mind was instantly alight with what inferences, each one disgusting her down to her core.

But when the blade came across her shoulder and pulled – Selena’s eyes widened as she felt the target of her enemy become apparent, the thick braid of platinum-blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder to rest against her chest…

**********************************

23 years ago
January 13th, 1998
Nome, Alaska

Anastasia DeCarlo had not enjoyed how the day had turned out. Besides the fact that it was another day in this poor excuse for a town, she had broken a heel in her shoe while going grocery shopping – a job that, in her youth, had gone to the servants in the DeCarlo home in Anchorage – causing quite a tumble, and wound to her pride, to the ‘low class’ that saw her. 

With a huff, as she continued to unpack the bags of food, stuffing them into various places within the fridge, her eyes caught side of the broken shoe she had tossed into the trash upon returning home, having to suffer an awkward stumble the rest of her walk through the small store and to her car. Along with it, she had tossed the other shoe, despite its good condition. Still, one didn’t keep just one ‘shoe’, no sane person, anyway. She would have Donovan buy another pair and if he didn’t, then she would go out later and get some.

Donovan…

A long sigh escaped her as her movements stopped, her eyes on the fridge’s contents but not truly there, looking past them into the space before. Why? Why did she have to continue on through this mess of a life? She hadn’t wanted this! To live the life of a pauper. She was supposed to be part of the DeCarlo family! Part of the one of the wealthiest families in Alaska! But no, she had been told to give that up. Give up her share of the fortune for a fucking miner and his damned daughter.

The blonde woman bit her lower lip hard, drawing upon the pain for focus. It wasn’t that she hated Donovan, himself. He was, in the basic definition, a good man. Honest, hard-working, if not misguided, but they both knew that he was unworthy of a woman of DeCarlo blood. The Frosts were commoners that had some rich heritage – diluted as it had become – that both her family and the family of the Scythes desired. For, regardless of how powerful and rich one was, there was always more power to be had. More riches to be gained.

So, an alliance between the three families had been forged, the marriage of Donovan and Anastasia to unite the DeCarlos and Frosts, and then, when she came of age, Selena would marry Gavin Scythe and be the final piece of the puzzle. 

That end – that day – would be Anastasia’s reward. The responsibility of union would shift to Selena, whether she remained in this hellhole or not, and she had no desire to. Her father, Robert DeCarlo had assured her more than a fair sure to ‘compensate’ for the years of misery that she had endured already, and the ones that awaited her. But for now, she needed to suffer in silence, with her broken shoe.

The knocking on the door was a welcome distraction, the woman finishing her task to get up and move to the front of the hill-house that was the home of she and the Frosts. A second knock had begun, but stopped immediately as Anastasia reached for the doorknob, giving it a good twist and pulling the door open.

Before her eyes stood a man she did not recognize, gray pants and some kind of sweater, around her age, she wagered. Beside the man, had a much shorter height, naturally, was a child she did recognize – even with the muck that covered her face.

“Mrs. Frost?” asked the gentleman.
“Yes? Why is my daughter here and not in school?” she asked briskly, not in the mood for a long-winded introduction or explanation.

“I’m afraid there was a bit of a tiff at school today.” The man explained. 

It was only at this point that Anastasia chose to take a good look at her ‘daughter’ – this time observing the details. She saw hair – hair that was far more blonde and platinum than hers – looked stick in some places, with stains of brown all over it, matching various splotches on the little girl’s clothes. Lastly, there was a rip in the shoulder of one sleeve, the sleeve itself hanging on by just half of its seam. 

“I see.” Anastasia settled on replying before casting a cold glare to the man. “And where were the staff when this ‘tiff’ was occurring?”
The man cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, Mrs. Frost, we are watching several children and, sometimes, we can close track-“
“And because of that incompetence, this occurred. Do you have any idea how much these clothes cost?” she asked briskly taking a section of the uniform’s ripped shoulder, not noticing the child wincing as she did so. “Is the school going to be reimbursing us for this?”

“Well…” the man tried to answer.
“And what precautions are being done to prevent this from happening again?”
“Well, we will be speaking with the parents of the boy, also.”

“Oh, I see. So when this happens again, as it inevitably will if ‘talking’ is all you’re going to manage.” She chastised. “Who will pay for THOSE clothes? Hmmm? Is it not your job – your minimum wage job of… what is it? ‘Parental supervisor’? Of course, that sounds more fancy than just ‘glorified babysitter’ but, I can tell you, if a babysitter allowed this to happen, a simple ‘talk’ would be far from the result. They’d be fired in a second because they FAILED in the job I am paying for!”

The member of the school – or whatever he was, Anastasia couldn’t care less – stood there dumbfounded, his expression reminding the older woman of those mindless fish in the aquarium, their mouths flapping open and clothes and little else.

“Your name.” she ordered.
“Ethan.” He stated. 
“Last name too, now.” 
“Hanton.”
“Fine.” Anastasia replied, placing a hand on the child – who had remained quiet the entire time – and pulling her inside the house. “I recommend you stay by your phone and have your resume ready, because you won’t have a job to fail if I have anything to say about it.” 

The slamming of the door was the exclamation point, Anastasia pushing her hand up to her forehead to rub her temples with her thumb and middle finger. With a few deep breaths, she turned, eyes boring into the small girl that stood there.

“Well?” she asked, staring down the much shorter girl. “What do you have to say for yourself?!”
“I…” the girl tried to speak but her voice warbled a little. “I’m sorry.” She said.
“Sorry?” Anastasia asked. “Is that it?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.” Selena tried harder, the nine-year old shaking a little as she stood there. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“The implication being that whatever that is jumped on you and made a home on your hair and clothes?” Anastasia shot back, her voice cold and emotionless.
“N-no…” Selena shook her head. “It was Gavin again…”

“Gavin?” Anastasia asked, her eyes widening. “Gavin Scythe?!”

Selena gave no answer except nodding her head, causing Anastasia to mentally scream a slew of curses that no child should hear. Why the hell was Malcolm not doing anything about this?! The boy had been harassing her ‘daughter’ for some time, if what Selena and Donovan had told her was to be believed. Hell, why hadn’t DONOVAN done anything about this?! 

Gavin was supposed to be married to Selena when they came of age! That was the plan! So why the hell was this being done?! At this rate, Selena would grow to hate the boy and then what?! All those years of lower-class living… for nothing?!

“He poured his chocolate milk on me.”

The confession came from Selena, who kept her eyes focused on the small shoes covering her feet. At least it explained what that gunk was covering her.

With a groan, Anastasia shooed her daughter away. “Go take a shower. Your father and I will have a talk about this.”
“Am I grounded-“
“I don’t know what you are yet, but I’m not in the mood to answer those stupid questions.” Barked Anastasia. “And if you’re not going to obey me, I can just ground you now-“

“Sorry!” Selena cried out, scampering down the hall to her room to grab a new set of clothes. Within a few minutes, the sound of running water was heard from the bathroom, leaving Anastasia, once more, to her thoughts.

This would need to change. She had given up too much and sacrificed more years than she cared for – nearly a decade – for this to fall apart. 

Still, as she stood in the room, Anastasia was quick to note that the situation wasn’t complete unsalvageable. Selena was obedient and was terrified of her mother becoming upset – she could be made to forgive Gavin and get along with him, in time. She would have to have a word with Malcolm at some point – thought she doubted the old cod would do little to discourage his ‘boys will be boys’ mentality.

For a moment, the woman was grateful her daughter was not willful or rebellious – that was the last thing she needed from her ‘daughter’. Selena was good pawn in the plan, provided she never questioned her worth or sought to change it…

The sound of soft cries drifted into Anastasia’s ears, surprising her for a brief moment due to being deep in thought, that she, for a brief moment forgot that someone else was in the house beside her. The whimpering persisted, which only irritated her further. With a curt march, she made the short distance down the hall of the house to the door that held the bathroom, her hand up to knock, telling her daughter to stop crying… until a hiccup/cry sounded from the room.

For some reason, perhaps it was the pitch of the sound or maybe it was just hearing it so closely, but it didn’t irritate Anastasia like the others had. Instead, her mind replayed the image of Selena before her at the door minutes ago:

A ripped sleeve…from being shoved and pushed the ground?
Chocolate milk all over her… from several little cartons? Several students?

Perhaps it was the notion that she was living in her own hell, but the realization that Selena was too… she didn’t have the strength to yell at the child. She didn’t have the desire to tell her to stop being an ‘inconvenience’ to her.

Maybe she wasn’t her daughter… but everyone else in Nome thought she was. There was enough of a resemblance to pass… and it wasn’t like she wanted any children with Donovan…

The idea seemed to form slowly in Anastasia’s mind as she stood before the closed door, hearing the mixture of water and whimpers. Yes, Selena was a pawn… but if Anastasia’s father, Robert, had told her anything, it was that every pawn was a potential queen…

Perhaps it was that lingering thought that caused Anastasia to slowly open the door, twisting the handle and stepping inside.

“Selena?” she called out, trying to keep her voice as soft as she could.

Immediately, the sound of a deep breath being taken was heard and the water was suddenly turned off. Immediately, the shower curtain was pulled open and Selena stepped out, quick to speak. “I’m finished.” She said quickly. “I didn’t take a dolphin show…” she added, a term her mother had thrown at her in the past over ‘wasting water’. 

“It’s fine…” Anastasia tried, pulling a towel from off the nearby rack and wrapping the nine-year old in it. “Where are your clothes?”

“I put them in the hamper.” Selena replied obediently, earning a nod from her mother, the latter’s hands shaking a little as she patted and rubbed her daughter’s body with the towel, which only confused the child. “Wha…what are you doing?”
“I’m helping you dry.” Anastasia stated flatly. 
“Did I do something wrong?” Selena asked, her voice in alarm. “Are you going to punish me?”

“I said I would talk over this with your father.” Anastasia tried. “Did you fight back?”
“No.” Selena shook her head. “Papa told me never to fight back.”
“I’m sure he did.” Anastasia rolled her eyes. Spineless worm… she thought, referring to her pacifist of a husband as she finished drying off the young girl. “Get your clothes on.”

Selena nodded and obeyed, gathering up the neatly folded pile of clothes on the sink counter of the bathroom and changing into them, a ‘pfft’ sound coming from her as she did. Around the fourth or fifth ‘pfft’ sound, however, Anastasia’s attention was had.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing the girl through the reflection of the mirror Selena stood in front of. 
“Just…pfft… my hair’s in my eyes. Hard to see.” Selena tried to explain as she did up the tiny buttons of her shirt.

Quietly, Anastasia eyed the hair on her daughter’s head. “We could cut it-“
“No!” Selena cried out, her eyes alight and, for a second, Anastasia saw defiance in those eyes, though it quelled and faded in an instant. “Please no, mommy.” Selena begged. “Grandma Irina said this hair was special…”

Once more, the DeCarlo woman assessed the hair. She would be lying if she didn’t envy it on some level, if nothing else, then its color – which was far blonder and more magnificent than her own. Quietly, she watched as Selena’s small hands scrambled to pull and tug the long hair into a sloppy ponytail-

“Oh stop.” Anastasia sighed, turning her daughter around. “Who taught you how to do your hair?”
“Um…Dad mostly…” Selena tried. “Unless we’re going to church or somewhere important, then you would get mad at dad and then I’d do it myself and by then, you’d be in the car?”

For a moment, Anastasia’s eyes widened in surprise. How had she not noticed that about Selena? Perhaps because… came the analytical part of her brain. You never saw her as anything but HIS daughter and YOUR burden…and look where that has gotten.

It was an obvious slap of reality. At the current rate, the plan of the DeCarlos and Scythes involving Selena would not work out. Her… her daughter… Anastasia realized, knew nothing about how to be a woman of power. A woman of confidence and authority- Oh lord… what if the plans succeeds and she’s nothing more than this…

The thought was almost as terrifying as being in this poor house for the rest of her life, almost. No… Anastasia decided as she watched her daughter pull out knots in her long, platinum-blonde hair… no, she was going to work on Selena – she was going to turn a coal into a diamond. A piece of sand into a pearl, a pawn-

“Mommy…” Selena’s voice caught the older woman’s attention. “Can I… Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.” Anastasia nodded, regarding the child before her patiently.
“What do you call that?” she asked, reaching out to point a small finger to the large twines of hair that wrapped around each other before linking to Anastasia’s scalp.

“What? This?” she asked, pulling her hair out a bit to present it to her daughter. “It’s called a French braid. It’s a style.”

Before her, Anastasia saw her daughter’s eyes widen as she regarded the interwoven hairs. “Would you like your hair like that?”

A small head jerked up, sapphire eyes hopeful, and nodded eagerly. “Very well. Turn around.” Anastasia ordered, her ‘daughter’ quickly obeying. Immediately, DeCarlo’s hands were at work, nimbly weaving and intertwining the proper strands of platinum-blonde.

“You know…” Anastasia spoke as she worked. “If you really like this and you’re good, I can teach you how to do it yourself.”
Selena didn’t give a worded response, but Anastasia heard the hopeful gasp come from her.

“I learned a lot of different styles.” Anastasia continued nonchalantly. “As well as some makeup tips and such – I could teach you those too.”
“O…okay…” Selena whispered meekly.

“You know what I think?” the mother continued, eyeing her step-daughter’s gaze in the mirror. “I think that you could be an extremely beautiful lady. So beautiful, in fact, that the boys would never want to pick on you again.”

The idea seemed ludicrous to a child, but Selena had no reason to believe her mother would ever lie to her. “E-even Gavin?”
“Oh please!” Anastasia laughed. “With my help, he’ll be chasing you to do your homework and carry your bags.”
“Really?” Selena asked, confused. “Why would he do that?”
“Boys…are weird like that.” The older woman settled on saying. “You’ll understand some day.”

Despite not understand now, Selena nodded her head, returning her gaze to the mirror and onto her hair. “Grandma said that my hair was special among the Frost-family. Very special and that I should wear it proudly… is that true, mommy?”

Well, it sounded absurd to Anastasia, but a part of it did make sense to her, and she chose that to tell Selena. “I think… that pride in one’s self is important, and that includes appearance. I think if you are proud of yourself, who you are and how you look – then no one will be able to truly defeat you.”

With one last tug, Anastasia stood back, gently flicking Selena’s hair – now a gorgeous braid – over her shoulder and in front of her chest, where the child grasped it tightly, stunned and beyond happy.

“W…wow…” she stammered before turning and throwing her arms around her mother, stunning Anastasia completely. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” she repeated. 
“You’re welcome.” Replied Anastasia simply. “Now, go get to your homework and whatever else you couldn’t do today.”

“Can I show papa my new hair?” Selena asked hopeful.
“Oh yes.” DeCarlo smiled knowingly. “I am sure he’ll be happy to see it.”

Without another word, Selena scampered to her room to work on her homework, not wanting to upset the, seemingly, good mood her mother was in.

Pushing herself up to her feet, Anastasia dusted herself off before exiting the bathroom and returning to the task of making dinner, her thoughts still on her little pawn of a daughter.

Oh just you wait, Selena. she smiled knowingly. When the time is right… you are going to make one HELL of a queen…


_______________________________________________________________

The camera opens up to the empty interior of the Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland, Ohio, where a gauntlet match unlike any seen in recent history will take place to determine who will be the World Champion of SCW. Tonight’s episode of Breakdown, along with a Television championship match, will focus primarily on what will be fourteen matches – perhaps the most ever shown on a Breakdown episode…

It is not an exaggeration to say that the ring seen in this camera shot will be transformed into a warzone. But sitting there, under the bright lights of blue and white, is a woman in a hooded vest, her attire otherwise familiar as she sits perched on the turnbuckle.

Bree… she whispers as the camera focuses on her, the voice of Selena Frost ringing through the empty space. Despite the hood, the camera can see the sapphire eyes and some platinum-blonde hair coming from the hood.

Bree Bree Bree…Oh Bree… Selena drawls on, letting the foul name of one of her most bitter enemies roll around on her tongue as she turns her head to the camera.

How has your week been going, huh? I imagine about the same as mine, considering neither of us got where we wanted to last week with the Tag League. I mean, were you humbled? I sure was. I ask because I never have seen you admit to being humbled, so I’m curious to know. It was rough week, for both us. And now? Here we are…

And sine we are here, let me ask you. Have you been counting down the days? The hours? The minutes? Dreading the passing of every second? Fighting back every kind of doubt in your mind? Trying to find some way to twist this around? Call it off? 

I can’t say I’d blame you for being ‘typical Bree’. You know the odds and you know that the chances of you surviving any one of us in a one-on-one match isn’t as ‘one-sided’ as you may declare. But this? All of this?

Well, I’d like to listen to your words of ‘unfair’ or ‘unreasonable’ or whatever tripe you’ll throw to diminish the heart and passion that so many people have shown by stepping up. So many like Jordan and Chris and Glory that have kept their minds on this night. This match. Their chance to get what you hold…

And maybe, in some way, it could be seen as ‘unfair’ to you, Bree.

But I don’t think so. Selena shakes her head. I think what you’ve gone through since last week? All that doubt? That feeling of impending doom? I think the odds against you keeping the World title? I think all of it is fair-

Scratch that – I think all of this? Is justified! there is a slight growl in her voice as she hops off the turnbuckle she is perched on, landing inside the ring, eyes on the camera.

How many months has it been, Bree?! How many months have you stood there – declaring yourself ‘the REAL SCW World Champion’ and declaring David Helms’ reign was not true?
How many months went by where you chose to discredit those that stepped up to challenge you?
How many years have gone by that you’re still living a fantasy about me?

I’ll be honest, Bree – when I said that a man like Ace – drunk, disrespectful, unprofessional – would be a better choice as the World Champion than you? I meant it. It’s not by much but, dammit, I meant it! a smile can be seen from under Selena’s hood.

Do you know why, Bree? Why I would prefer someone who spends more time making dick jokes and Tik Tok content than focusing on being a wrestler? I’ll tell you why, Bree. Because Ace Marshall would never have seen David as someone ‘lesser’ than him or call him a ‘fraud’ or ‘undeserving of the World title’. He never treated a loss as ‘never happened’ or a ‘fluke’ or some kind of ‘act of charity’. He would see the value in every challenger, every person and match – even if that value was just for himself and his own amusement.

But you? Oh you… Bree… the young woman shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

No, I’m not coming into this with any grandiose promises. “Overcome it all”, “Fight through everyone!”. No. In case you haven’t been paying attention, that’s not been my focus through any of this.

Remember what I said, Bree? Remember what I said to you several weeks ago when I decked you in the jaw and sent you to the mat on that episode of Breakdown? 

I said ‘SCW deserves better’. 
SCW deserves better. 
One more time: SCW. Deserves. Better. 

It deserves someone that doesn’t need TWO of the same world championship belts simply for her own ego.
It deserves someone that doesn’t need to fake car accidents and kidnappings and the kind of plans you see in movies just to steal the world title.
It deserves someone that doesn’t desecrate what the titles mean by breaking them into pieces and throwing them away.

Selena stops for a moment, releasing a sigh, as if remembering something personal before lifting her head to gaze back at the camera. I could go on, but the point, I am sure has been made. 

The question is: now that I’ve said what’s ‘better for SCW’… where does that leave me? Am I someone that could be all of those things? Am I someone that can carry the main-event title division better than you? Be what is ‘better for SCW’?

Instead of answering right away, the head of Frost, and the hood by association, slowly shakes left and right. I already answered that question – and that answer hasn’t changed. But that is why I’m needing to be here, Bree. Why I need to stay in this match and not just run away or put blinders on and just ‘see the finish line’ where the title awaits.

Because I DON’T think that person is me at this point. I don’t think I’ll have the luck or even the skill to get to the end. Because it’s been so long since I had to fight on my own at levels like this. So long since I’ve known, deep down, that no one is here to watch my back, meaning I have to fight on my own.

You with Burnside?
Syren and Ravyn and Holly? Infamous? Need I say more?
The Wonderland?
Even people with friends like Chris with Lucas, Asher with Cid, and Jordan with Cookie…

I… I haven’t been on my own like this in a long time, Bree, because tonight, there is no Regan watching my back, though she is in my heart. Glory won’t be looking out for me like she did last week. There isn’t a person in the back locker-rooms of SCW that would rush to my aid when shit will, inevitably, hit the fan.

She casts a glance up the ramp to the black curtain that leads the backstage of the arena. So, knowing I’m on my own. Knowing I am not ready for this – why do I need to keep going? Why do I need to stay? Other than beating you? Other than ensuring SCW gets a ‘better’ world champion than you?

To the surprise of many viewers, the questions are met with a genuine chuckle from the accented voice of Selena.

It’s actually funny…but after Ace’s words reminded me that I need to carve my path in SCW once more, you’ll never guess who gave me the first step of that puzzle, Bree… No, it wasn’t you. Are you kidding? You’re so immature, you’ve blocked me on Twitter – not that it did any good when your snide remarks come up on the SCW website, ‘genius’.

No…actually… it was Holly. a stronger laugh, laced with amusement even disbelief, comes from the young Frost. Yeah, that shock you, Bree? Holly Addams was more insightful than you… even unintentionally. Now, when you get to me in your promo, Bree, and I know you will – I know I’ll be ready for whatever your throw my way. Same as I said last week:

‘Selena is a fraud.’
‘Selena doesn’t care about SCW.’
‘Selena is desperate for any title.’

It’s the never-ending string of insults that has followed me since the beginning, from Christy Mathews to Ravyn, to Syren, to you – even Jordan threw in a barb like that last week in the heat of promo-battle…

But let’s face it, Bree, we all know that there’s a low-hanging branch that few people, unless they’re INCREDIBLY uncreative and lazy don’t really go when it comes to me… Selena sighs knowingly.

Well, I won’t spoil it too much, but if you want something to laugh at where I am concerned, go watch it. It’s… it’s something.

And yet… in a weird way, Holly gave me the answer I needed. The answer of what I need to do here to carve my path once more. To re-find my place in SCW’s world of singles wrestling…

I need to… For a moment, she stops, a long, dragged out sigh escaping her. Let it go…

The place is silent for what seems like an eternity, as Selena rubs her arms with her hands. Geez… I know a few people are having a laugh that someone ‘got me to say it’, but… I can’t deny it’s the truth. I need to let it go.

Because that’s what’s been holding me back all this time. THAT’S what’s been making it harder and harder to believe in myself.

The past. The mistakes. The words of others. I have clung onto them for so long that… I don’t even know why anymore. Selena shrugs in exasperation.

I mean, think about it! Why should I give a damn if you think my win over you was a ‘gimmie’? An act of charity?
Why should I care if Ravyn thinks I’ve been dodging her for years?
Why should I let the opinion of Jordan and, by extension, Cookie, sway what I believe in my heart just because it pissed them off?

The former world champion lifts her arms and then drops them back to her side. What good was that doing me? Lamenting on the past? The words of others, but also, clinging to what I did five years ago? 

Yeah, Bree, I’m just as guilty of being a factor in my own shortcoming as you and the others are. Because I couldn’t let go of the past. I couldn’t let go of being “The Best of the Best” tournament winner. I couldn’t let go being “the woman that knocked out Xander Valentine”. I couldn’t let go being called “The Face of SCW”… she takes a deep breath, the next part the hardest:

And I couldn’t let go of being ‘The Snow Queen’…

Reaching into her hood, Selena rubs her eyes with one hand, a slight sniffle escaping her before she clears her throat and gazes back at the camera. 

You know, it was Buddha who said “Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else… in the end, you’re the one who gets burned…”

But the thing is: it’s not just anger that does that.
It’s fame.
It’s fear.
It’s uncertainty.
It’s doubt.

All of those things, Bree, can be hot coals. All of these can weigh you down, and all of these things, can burn you. 

Lowering her head, Selena gazes at her bare hands. I’ve been grasping in my hands – all of these coals, thinking they were making me the wrestler I needed to be… that SCW needed me to be. She looks up, lowering her hands.

But how can I be the wrestler I want to be when I’m holding all of them? How can I take on the challenge – the pain - of a match like this when I’m already being burned by those coals? How can I do what is needed, what I MUST do if I am too busy letting you and Syren and Ravyn and the others try and dictate my life, my beliefs, my very identity?! If I let your opinions and BS be another coal on the pile that is trying to bury me?

She gives a sad shake of her head. The truth is I can’t. So… I let them go. I let them – let it all go… so that tonight, I can wrestle, not as ‘The Face of SCW’ or ‘The Snow Queen’ – no. Tonight, I’m going to wrestle as me. No more coals. No more burns on me, Bree. No looking back – just ahead to you… 

Sapphire eyes from within the hood narrow. And I am going to burn right through you. and pale hands tighten into fists.

I don’t care if I’ve fought one or ten other wrestlers waiting for you, Bree. I don’t care if I’m the last person drawn or the first. I am not leaving that ring until you are done. Because the second I see you in that ring, or I hear your theme music? 

All bets are off. there is a haunting, emotionless cold in Frost’s voice. Because I will do whatever it takes to make that title – the future of that title – Bree-Free. And trust me, Bree… trust me!

With a slow breath, Selena Frost reaches up to her hood, pulling the dark blue garmet off her head… revealing platinum-blonde hair that measures only to Selena’s shoulders – too short to ever be made into a braid… 

Undeterred by this, Selena stands in the middle of the ring, her cold eyes on one person and one person only. You’ve no idea what that truly means, Bree. Not a modicum of an idea. But come Breakdown, whether you believe me or not… you are going to find out.

And SCW will happily let go of you as its World Champion…

Believe it… or not.

There are no more words, the sight before the world leaving many breathless as Selena Frost stands there… as everything fades to black…
_______________________________________________

Malcolm Scythe stood rooted to the same spot he had occupied for the past quarter of an hour, alone in his office. His eyes would shift from the door that served as an exit and entrance and down to his hand… where there, within, was the thick braid of platinum-blonde hair. 

His prize…

And yet, despite seeing it there before him, he kept having to replay the moment in his head. How he had stood before Selena Frost, his letter-opener knife trailing up and down the braid. How Selena’s eyes widened and became misty as she took in what Malcolm was demanding of her for the freedom of Deanna. 

But then, it was almost surreal… the mayor had watched Selena grip his hand that held the knife, squeezing so hard that he had to release it, surrendering it to the woman. For the briefest of seconds, milliseconds more like it, Malcolm actually felt a twinge of fear for his life – the idea that Selena Frost, rather than pay the price, would, like a warlord, just take it, stabbing him in the heart or slicing his throat open with a simple flick of her wrist and leaving him dead at her feet.

What she had done, however, was far more disturbing to him.

Her eyes had grown cold and though Malcolm could see tears forming behind them, the woman’s hands did not shake or hesitate.

They drew up the braid…
They measured the distance…
They held it taunt…
And the one hand cut it down…

For the rest of his life, Malcolm knew, he would never forget the silence in those moments, and the sound of hairs slowly being cut apart one by one. One after another. Selena’s hands never shook, never slowed. She kept going…kept cutting the very thing away until…

Malcolm finally looked down again, staring at the detached rope of hair in his hand. 

He had won. He had beaten Selena Frost. He had taken the one thing that Selena treasured about herself. Treasured about her own identity. True, it would grow back at some point – but she would never forget, and neither would he, that Malcolm Scythe owned part of Selena Frost…

And yet, the truth did not bring him as much joy as he thought it would. For as Selena had thrust the braid into Malcolm’s hands, she had not broken down before him. Her expression was cold and hauntingly familiar as she walked towards the mayor’s desk, gathered up the USB drive with a sweep of one hand and gracefully walked out the door, not once looking back at the braid she left behind.

It was that expression, that walk, that refusal to break before him that haunted Malcolm, keeping him in place long after Selena had left…

Because in that moment… that brief span of time where his eyes at met that woman’s…To him…

Selena Frost had never before resembled her step-mother more…