The Enigma vs. Deanna Frost

[Konrad Raab]

SCW United States Championship?

Unsanctioned Match?

2 RP Limit for singles

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Sunday, September 29, 2024

[The Enigma]

Prophecy

The air inside Thornbrooke manor was heavy with the scent of burning wood and parchment. This scene was a testament to the centuries of secrets it had witnessed within its stone walls. In the study, a fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows on the walls and the floor that danced like restless spirits across the room. The Enigma, ensconced in the body of Elias Veil sat hunched over a large oak desk, his eyes scanning the pages of a newly discovered manuscript.

Through the town, a dense fog clung to the desolate, cobblestone streets. Since the arrival of Enigma into the town of Thornbrooke, people dared not come out of their homes because of the strange occurrences that had happened. Whispers of dark magic and unseen forces spread through the town like wildfire drawing fear in the minds of the residents of Thornbrooke. But, no one dared investigate further, fearful of not returning if they did.

Inside the manor, the air was heavy. The weight of centuries seemed to press down on the room. Old Man Hawthorne sat in a rocking chair by the fire, his gaze seemed to be far away from the fire by which he sat. Hawthorne knew that Enigma was the only way to save the world, as he believed. He had known the face of the man that Enigma bore, Elias Veil, and knew that he was strong enough to be the embodiment of the darkness that Enigma was. The darkness that Lady Nocturna required to fulfill her mission.

The gaze of Hawthrone turned to the manuscript on the desk. Enigma’s fingers tracing across the old document that laid on the massive oak desk, its cover a patchwork of timeworn leather, cracked and peeling from centuries of neglect. Dark, cryptic symbols adorned its surface, swirling and interwoven in patterns that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles, as if the very language of the book was alive, shifting in response to the gaze of the reader. Dust, thick as a forgotten memory, clung to the edges, disturbed only by the careful touch of Enigma’s fingers as he turned each fragile page.

It had been unearthed in a hidden alcove far beneath Thornbrook Manor, buried deep within the ancient catacombs that sprawled like a web beneath the town. The alcove itself had been concealed for untold generations, sealed behind a wall of crumbling stone, almost as if the very earth sought to keep the manuscript and its secrets hidden from the world above. But Old Man Hawthorne, with his obsessive devotion and relentless pursuit of the past, had uncovered the chamber, revealing the manuscript’s long-forgotten resting place.

Now, in the dim glow of the flickering firelight, Enigma bent over the ancient text, his eyes scanning the delicate, yellowed parchment. The words, written in a language older than memory, seemed to hum with a power that transcended time. The ink had long since faded to a deep, rusty brown, yet the symbols still pulsed with energy, as though infused with the magic of the ages. Every line, every curve of the script, seemed to radiate a dark, latent force, beckoning Enigma deeper into the mysteries it held.

As he read, the prophecy unfolded like a whispered promise from the past. It spoke of shadows, not merely as the absence of light, but as entities—forces that moved unseen, shaping the world from the darkness. Power, it claimed, lay not in the obvious strength of kings and warriors, but in the hands of those who could command the shadows, bend them to their will. This power was tied to Thornbrook itself, bound to the land and its ancient bloodlines, a destiny entwined with the town’s very foundations.

The words described a figure—one who would rise from the shadows, a soul destined to claim this power and use it to reshape the world. The prophecy hinted at something greater, something far beyond the trivial ambitions of men. It spoke of a force waiting to be awakened, a force that could unravel reality itself. The one destined to control this power, the manuscript claimed, would not only rule over Thornbrook but would stand on the precipice of dominion over life and death, light and dark.

Yet, within the prophecy’s promises of power, there lay a warning, subtle but unmistakable. A duality, a hidden presence, would be intertwined with the chosen one’s fate. Another soul, bound by blood and time, could rise to challenge the dark ascendant. This duality, though barely mentioned, seemed to linger in the air, a reminder that the path to ultimate power was fraught with peril and betrayal, and that even in victory, one could never fully escape the past.

Enigma’s hand hovered over the page, his eyes narrowing as the significance of the prophecy sank in. The words seemed to speak directly to him, to his current state—ensconced in the body of Elias Veil, yet not entirely alone. The dormant presence of Elias, faint but undeniable, tugged at the corners of his mind, a constant, infuriating reminder of the body’s original owner.
But this prophecy… this ancient, powerful text… it offered more than mere insight. It offered a way forward. If the Heart of Veil, the artifact the prophecy spoke of, truly existed, then it held the key to severing that lingering connection, to ensuring that Enigma’s control over Elias’ body was absolute and eternal.

The air around him seemed to thrum with anticipation, as though the very walls of Thornbrook Manor awaited his next move. With a final glance at the swirling symbols on the page, Enigma snapped the manuscript shut, the force of his action causing a gust of air that sent the remaining dust scattering into the flickering firelight.

The prophecy was clear: power was his for the taking, but it came with a cost—a cost Enigma was more than willing to pay.

The heavy thud of the manuscript closing reverberated through the dimly lit study, echoing off the stone walls like a distant, fading heartbeat. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if the air itself was waiting for what would come next. Enigma’s eyes, cold and calculating, gleamed in the flickering firelight, reflecting the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. The ancient prophecy, now burned into his memory, was not merely a warning—it was a call to action.

Outside, Thornbrook remained cloaked in silence, the fog still clinging to the narrow streets, twisting and coiling like spectral fingers. The townspeople had no inkling of the storm brewing within the manor, no understanding of the forces Enigma had set into motion. Their fears, rooted in whispers of dark magic, were but shadows of the truth. They could never comprehend the depth of the power that now pulsed beneath their feet, or the magnitude of what was to come.

Enigma rose from his chair, his movements fluid yet deliberate, as though the very air around him was his to command. His eyes flicked toward the windows, where the fog pressed against the glass like a living thing, eager to seep into every corner of Thornbrook. He knew what had to be done. The Heart of Veil—hidden deep within the catacombs—was the key, the final piece that would cement his dominance over both Thornbrook and the fragile soul of Elias Veil.

He stepped toward the door, his black coat billowing slightly behind him, like the wings of some dark, fallen angel. As he moved, the shadows in the room seemed to follow, drawn to him like moths to a flame. His thoughts raced, not with doubt, but with cold certainty. If the prophecy was true—and every bone in his body told him it was—then he stood at the cusp of something far greater than the townsfolk’s fearful murmurs. This was a new era—an era of power, of control, of darkness.

Reaching the threshold of the study, Enigma paused, casting a glance over his shoulder toward the desk where the manuscript now lay closed. His lips curled into a slight smile, a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He had long sought a way to cement his control over Elias Veil’s body, and now, the answer had presented itself in the ancient script of Thornbrook’s past. But more than that—it had given him a vision of what could be. The catacombs would yield their secrets, and with the Heart of Veil in his grasp, there would be no more barriers between him and ultimate power.

As he descended the creaking wooden stairs of Thornbrook Manor, the oppressive silence was broken only by the distant crackle of the fire and the faint rustling of leaves against the windows. Outside, the mist continued to writhe, thickening as though drawn to the malevolent energy that Enigma now exuded. Thornbrook’s very atmosphere seemed to shift, growing heavier, darker, in anticipation of the coming storm.

Enigma reached the entrance hall and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The cold night air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and decay. He stepped outside, his boots crunching on the gravel path that led toward the town. Thornbrook’s streets were empty, its inhabitants locked away in their homes, unaware of the ancient forces stirring beneath their feet.
With a low, determined whisper, Enigma called out into the night, his voice barely more than a breath, but full of command. “Hawthorne.”

From the shadows at the edge of the manor’s grounds, Old Man Hawthorne emerged, his frail form wrapped in a long, tattered cloak. His eyes, wide and eager, gleamed with the madness of obsession. He had spent years unearthing the secrets of Thornbrook, and now, at Enigma’s side, he would witness the culmination of all his work.

“My lord,” Hawthorne rasped, bowing slightly. “It is time?”

Enigma nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Prepare for the descent. We go to the catacombs. The Heart of Veil awaits.”

Hawthorne’s face twisted into a grim smile, and without another word, he scurried off into the night, eager to begin the next stage of their plan.

As the old man disappeared into the mist, Enigma stood still for a moment, breathing in the cold, damp air. The town of Thornbrook, nestled in its quiet, forgotten corner of the world, had no idea that its fate was sealed. Soon, the prophecy would be fulfilled, and the power bound within the Heart of Veil would be his.

And Elias Veil, that faint, flickering presence lurking somewhere deep within his mind, would be silenced forever.

With that final thought, Enigma turned and strode forward, his figure soon swallowed by the fog, as the darkened streets of Thornbrook seemed to close in behind him, sealing the path to a future shaped by shadows and power.

The mist clung to Enigma as he moved deeper into the heart of Thornbrook, enveloping him like a cloak. The narrow, cobblestone streets, once full of life, now felt like the veins of a dying creature, pulsing faintly in the dim light of a few scattered lanterns. His boots struck the ground with an unwavering rhythm, each step bringing him closer to the inevitable confrontation with the ancient force that lay beneath the town.

Old Man Hawthorne had disappeared ahead of him, his decrepit form moving swiftly through the fog like a wraith, gathering the necessary tools for their descent into the catacombs. Enigma did not concern himself with the old man’s haste; Hawthorne knew better than to test his patience. For now, the ancient scholar would play his part, but once the Heart of Veil was in Enigma’s hands, even Hawthorne’s usefulness would come into question.

As he walked, Enigma’s mind drifted back to the manuscript’s words. The prophecy had not been merely an account of past events—it was a guide, a map to the future. Yet, buried within its cryptic verses was a subtle warning, one that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. The prophecy spoke of a soul bound to Thornbrook, tied by blood to the artifact. It was this soul, Elias Veil, that lingered, haunting Enigma’s every move like a distant whisper.

But Enigma was not concerned. Veil’s consciousness was fractured, too weak to pose a real threat, and soon, once the Heart of Veil was in his possession, any connection to the former owner of this body would be severed. Still, the weight of the prophecy pressed on him, a reminder that destiny was not easily bent to one’s will. But Enigma was nothing if not determined to defy the inevitable, to break the bonds of fate and forge his own path.

Reaching the outskirts of Thornbrook, Enigma stood at the edge of the old cemetery. It was a forgotten place, overgrown and left to decay like much of the town’s history. The tombstones, weathered by centuries of neglect, jutted from the ground like jagged teeth. And beyond them, concealed beneath layers of moss and stone, lay the entrance to the catacombs.

Enigma’s pulse quickened, not with fear, but with a deep, primal hunger. This was where the veil between life and death grew thin, where power had once thrived and could be reborn.

A rustle in the mist announced Hawthorne’s return. He appeared at Enigma’s side, carrying a worn satchel filled with ancient scrolls, talismans, and tools of their dark craft.

“The entrance is ready,” Hawthorne croaked, his voice trembling with excitement. “The wards are weak, my lord. We should have no trouble breaching them.”

Enigma nodded, his eyes fixed on the looming crypt at the far edge of the cemetery. “Good. Once we are inside, there can be no hesitation, Hawthorne. The Heart of Veil must be ours tonight.”

The old man’s gnarled hands clutched the satchel tightly as he nodded in agreement. “Of course, my lord. I have prepared the rites. The catacombs will yield to your power.”

Without another word, they moved toward the crypt. The fog swirled around them as though alive, guiding them toward their destination. The door to the crypt was a massive stone slab, engraved with ancient symbols that had long since faded into obscurity. Yet, even now, they hummed faintly with a residual magic—old, but not forgotten.

Hawthorne stepped forward, pulling a weathered talisman from his satchel. He muttered an incantation under his breath, his voice a low, rasping chant that seemed to resonate with the crypt’s stones. Slowly, the massive door creaked open, revealing a dark stairway that led down into the bowels of the earth.

Enigma felt a surge of satisfaction. The entrance to the catacombs, sealed for generations, had opened at his command. With a nod to Hawthorne, he descended into the darkness, the weight of the earth pressing down on him as the air grew thick with the scent of damp stone and decay.

The stairway spiraled downward, deeper than Enigma had expected. The walls, lined with ancient carvings, told a story—a forgotten history of Thornbrook’s founding, steeped in ritual and sacrifice. Enigma felt the pulse of magic growing stronger with each step, the energy of the catacombs calling to him, like a beast awakening from centuries of slumber.

At last, they reached the bottom, emerging into a vast chamber lit only by the faint glow of bioluminescent moss clinging to the walls. The air was colder here, sharper, as though time itself had frozen. Before them, a large stone altar stood in the center of the room, its surface slick with moisture and covered in intricate carvings.

And there, resting upon the altar, was the Heart of Veil.

Enigma’s breath caught in his throat. The artifact was smaller than he had imagined, a stone the size of his fist, glowing with a deep, ethereal light that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat. He could feel its power from across the room, a raw, untamed force that promised everything he had sought.

But as he stepped closer, the words of the prophecy echoed in his mind once more, the warning of the soul that might yet rise. For the first time, doubt crept into Enigma’s thoughts. Could it be that Veil’s soul, bound to this artifact by blood and magic, still held some claim to it?

“No,” Enigma muttered to himself, shaking off the thought. He would not be swayed by superstition. The Heart of Veil was his, and with it, his control over this body—and over Thornbrook—would be absolute.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the stone’s cool surface. As Enigma’s fingertips grazed the surface of the Heart of Veil, a surge of energy shot through him, more potent than anything he had ever experienced. His vision blurred momentarily, the air around him crackling with raw power. It was as though the very essence of the artifact was seeking to merge with his own, a current of dark magic intertwining with his soul.

But as that power flooded him, something else stirred—something buried deep within the recesses of Elias Veil’s mind. A faint resistance, a whisper of consciousness that had lain dormant for too long.

For the briefest of moments, Enigma felt it—a presence, weak but undeniable, pushing against his control. Elias Veil. The name that now felt foreign to him clawed at the edges of his thoughts, a fragment of the man whose body he had stolen. And with that resistance came the echo of the prophecy, the warning of a soul bound to the Heart by blood.

A low growl rumbled from Enigma’s throat as he tightened his grip on the Heart. “You will not have this,” he hissed, his voice sharp with venom. “This body, this power—it belongs to me now.”

But the moment of resistance was not over. A sudden flash of memories assaulted him—fragments of Elias Veil’s life, torn from the recesses of his mind and thrust into Enigma’s awareness. Visions of Thornbrook as it had once been, vibrant and full of life, before the darkness crept in. A mother’s soft voice, speaking of destiny and sacrifice. A young boy standing at the gates of the catacombs, afraid of the shadows that seemed to reach for him.

And then, a final image—Elias Veil, standing in this very chamber, staring at the Heart of Veil, his hand outstretched just as Enigma’s was now. The realization struck Enigma like a blow: Elias had been here before, had stood on the precipice of claiming the artifact, only to turn away.
“Fool,” Enigma spat, his voice echoing in the silent chamber. “You had the power within your grasp, and you let it slip away. But I will not make the same mistake.”

He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he summoned his will. With a surge of determination, he pushed back against the lingering presence of Elias Veil, forcing it deeper into the recesses of his mind. The resistance faltered, weakened, and finally, it vanished altogether.

When Enigma opened his eyes again, the Heart of Veil pulsed in his hand, its power fully aligned with his own. He felt stronger, more connected to the ancient magic that flowed beneath Thornbrook. The prophecy was his to control now, its warnings meaningless in the face of his resolve.

Behind him, Hawthorne watched with bated breath, his eyes wide with awe. He had sensed the struggle, the brief flicker of doubt in his master’s movements, but now he could see that Enigma had triumphed.

“My lord,” Hawthorne croaked, stepping forward cautiously. “The Heart… it is yours. The power of Thornbrook is yours to command.”

Enigma turned slowly, his eyes glowing with the same eerie light as the artifact in his hand. He no longer felt any trace of Elias Veil within him, no whisper of the past to haunt his steps. Thornbrook’s ancient power was his now—its destiny rewritten in his name.

“The prophecy has served its purpose,” Enigma said, his voice cold and commanding. “But it no longer controls me. I am beyond fate now.”

He turned his gaze toward the darkened corridors that stretched beyond the chamber, the catacombs whispering with secrets yet to be uncovered. Thornbrook would soon awaken to the full force of the power that lay beneath its streets, and with the Heart of Veil in his possession, there would be no stopping what came next.

“Come, Hawthorne,” Enigma commanded, his voice a low growl. “We have much to prepare for. Thornbrook will soon witness the dawn of true darkness.”

Hawthorne bowed deeply, his skeletal frame trembling with a mix of reverence and fear. “Yes, my lord. All will be as you command.”

As they ascended the stairway from the catacombs, leaving the cold and damp behind them, Enigma’s thoughts churned with anticipation. The power coursing through him was intoxicating, but it was not enough. The Heart of Veil was only the beginning. Thornbrook, and all who resided within its walls, would soon learn what it meant to be at the mercy of true darkness.

And somewhere, deep within the depths of his mind, the faintest flicker of Elias Veil’s consciousness stirred once more, buried beneath layers of Enigma’s will but not yet extinguished. For now, Enigma’s grip on Thornbrook was unchallenged, but the prophecy had whispered of more than just shadows—it had whispered of a reckoning yet to come.

Just as Enigma prepared Thornbrooke for the reckoning that was to come, he knew that there was another reckoning to come. A reckoning that began at SCW Rise to Greatness. At Rise to Greatness, Enigma started a reckoning that no one can contain. A reckoning that extends beyond the realm of Supreme Championship Wrestling.

The Enigma stands among his followers, the Shadowfall, in Thornbrooke manor as he recalls the power that he obtained when he grabbed the Heart of Veil, even though that was years ago, the power is still coming from it. Power that he knows if it is completely unleashed would put an end to life as we know it.

“At Rise to Greatness, the world bore witness to a tiny dose of the power that everyone has waited to be unleashed.”

A voice boomed from the darkness, reverberating through the ancient, decaying halls of Thornbrooke Manor. The sound echoed off the cracked stone walls, wrapping itself around the empty corridors like an invisible force. The voice, though unseen, was unmistakable—The Enigma.

“And yet…” Enigma’s voice dripped with sinister amusement. “That was only a taste. The world believes they’ve seen everything I’m capable of, but they know nothing. The fire has only just begun to rise.”

The flickering remnants of candlelight cast twisted shadows across the ancient walls of Thornbrooke Manor. The air, heavy with the scent of decay and history, seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as though the very structure of the manor fed on Enigma’s words.

“They think they understand what it means to face true darkness,” Enigma’s voice continued, low and threatening, echoing off the cracked stone. “But what they have seen… what SCW believes to be the peak of my power… it is nothing. Nothing compared to what lies beneath.”

Enigma stepped forward, his figure blending with the shadows, his presence filling the room with a suffocating intensity. His eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, seemed to pierce the very fabric of reality, as though they could see beyond time itself, into the abyss.

Enigma’s voice reverberates through the decaying halls of Thornbrooke Manor, dripping with cold certainty.

“CHBK, you think that by suspending me, you’ve somehow gained control. You believe that SCW is safe, that you’ve locked me away like some common threat. But you’ve made a fatal mistake.”

He moved slowly through the room, his figure blending seamlessly with the shadows, his presence a dark force pulsating in the flickering candlelight. The air itself seemed to shudder with each word.

“I cannot be contained by your rules, by your authority. I am not bound by your suspensions, your fleeting notions of power. You think SCW is safe from me? No. The only thing you’ve done is set me free from your game, allowing the darkness to grow without restraint.”

Enigma’s eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, the faint gleam cutting through the room like a blade.

“The flames I set at Rise to Greatness were just the beginning, a taste of what’s to come. But what you witnessed… it was nothing. A mere flicker. You’ve only delayed the inevitable.”
His voice lowered, taking on an almost menacing calm.

“CHBK, your authority means nothing to me. I do not answer to you. I do not answer to you or SCW. I exist beyond your control, beyond your laws, and every second you believe you’ve stopped me, the darkness festers. You’ve given me time—time to become stronger, time for the abyss to deepen.”

He pauses, his grin widening as he envisioned the chaos that awaited.

“You cannot suspend what you do not own, what you cannot control. And when I decide to return… it won’t just be a ring that burns. No, CHBK, this time, it will be the world you think you’ve built that goes up in flames.”

The ancient walls of Thornbrooke seemed to tremble, as if the very manor could sense the storm Enigma was preparing to unleash. His figure, already fading into the shadows, was a reminder of the inevitable truth he had spoken.

“Your suspension is nothing, CHBK. You cannot stop what’s coming. I will rise, and SCW will fall into darkness. I am not bound by you.”

And with that, Enigma disappeared, swallowed by the very darkness he commanded, leaving behind an ominous silence—one that promised a reckoning far greater than anyone could imagine.

The silence that followed Enigma’s disappearance was deafening, the very air thick with the promise of chaos. Thornbrooke Manor, long forgotten by time, seemed to pulse with the energy of his dark words, as if the walls themselves understood the gravity of what was about to unfold.
Enigma’s voice, though now unseen, seemed to hang in the very atmosphere, twisting and curling through the shadows.

“CHBK,” his voice echoed again, low and dangerous, as though he were speaking directly to the man himself. “You think you’ve done something noble, don’t you? That by suspending me, you’ve protected your precious SCW… protected Deanna Frost from what’s coming. But you’ve only postponed the inevitable.”

The flicker of distant candlelight cast fleeting shadows across the room, reflecting the cold smirk that tugged at Enigma’s lips.

“You believe you’ve saved her from my wrath, shielded her from the darkness. But in reality, CHBK, all you’ve done is set her up for something far worse.”

His footsteps echoed ominously through the manor as he continued, his tone now dripping with mockery.

“Your suspension is nothing more than a delay, a mere inconvenience. And all it’s done is allowed the darkness to grow stronger. When I return, I won’t come for Deanna Frost immediately. No. I’ll bide my time, and when I do come for her, it won’t be the punishment you think you’ve prevented.”

Enigma’s gaze seemed to pierce through the manor’s crumbling walls, as if seeing far beyond the halls of Thornbrooke and into the very soul of SCW.

“Deanna Frost, your so-called champion… she’s marked, CHBK. Whether you like it or not, her fate is already sealed. You’ve only made it worse by giving me time to grow in the shadows. She’s not safe from me—she’s being primed for something greater.”

The air grew colder as Enigma’s voice dropped lower, more sinister.

“You’ve set her up for something far more than just punishment, CHBK. You’ve set her up for destruction. And when I return, she will face not just the flames of retribution, but the full weight of everything I’ve become.”

A dark laugh, low and chilling, reverberates through the room.

“When I come for her, it won’t be just a match, a contest of skill. No, it will be a reckoning. Deanna Frost will fall not because of her failures, but because you, CHBK, thought you could protect her from me. She will burn because of your arrogance.”

The laughter faded, but the threat lingered like a poison in the air.

“Deanna, you want me because of what I did to Jessica, because of the torture I’ve brought to your family. You claim yourself to be a victim, but you are merely a pawn in my game. You wanted Apocalypse to be the place and it’s fitting, because Apocalypse will be the demise of Deanna Frost. You are willing to risk everything to fight me, and it is everything that you will lose. This Sunday at SCW Apocalypse, the world will bear witness to the end of Deanna Frost.”

“You see this, Deanna? Do you see this, CHBK?” Enigma holds up the Heart of Veil. “This has more power than either of you know what to do with. This holds the power of life and death. This holds a power that is greater than I. A power that if unleashed on SCW, would surely bring demise to the entire roster. This is why CHBK, I do not follow your mortal rules and regulations. This is why, Deanna, your time is limited. This is why, SCW, your future is in grave danger.”

With that, the room fell into a deep, oppressive silence, the only sound left the faint crackling of dying embers. The darkness of Thornbrooke Manor held its breath, waiting for the storm that would soon engulf them all.

[SnowQueenSCW]

DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction and not to be confused as complete or accurate representation of any beliefs, religions, etc. Please refer to research/articles by experts for that.

OOC: The following CD takes place at the same time as Selena’s CD in her first roleplay.

Frost No More

”Coming to a Head”

Smoothie King Center
New Orleans, Louisiana
September 21, 2024
11:17pm

Deanna hadn’t left her changeroom since Lucas Knight had talked to her. Not because he had said anything bad to her and certainly not because of her match with Colleen. But rather, she had kept herself locked in the changeroom, eyes glued to her television, watching the show in case HE showed up.

She had watched every other match, every other segment, and every scene unfold, eyes peeled – even when they burned and teared up a little – for any sign of black smoke or explosions or anything un-SCW and Enigma-like!

That’s the best way to describe it! Un-SCW. Enigma-like. her mind thought before recoiling from the excursion.

Crap… everything hurt. Her head felt heavy, her limbs felt sore, her back was aching, and she was STILL too afraid to sleep – the exhaustion making her head heavy even with her third – or was it fourth today – energy drink? She had lost count.

And her heart…

As if on cue, or perhaps she had manifested it or something, Deanna felt the pain in her chest, clutching at it and breathing through it like she usually forced herself to it. It would pass. It always did. It was just the large amount of caffeine in her system. Her body was still young! Twenty-six…. Twenty-seven! She reminded herself. Yeah, twenty-seven! It could take a bit of stress at least for a bit longer.

“I’ll sleep when he’s gone for good…” she whispered to herself, not needing to identify who ‘he’ was. For all her ‘scouting’ on the television and during her match with Colleen – to which Deanna could only feel guilt over. She had made so many mistakes during that match and probably had done no favors for poor Colleen! – she hadn’t spotted a single thing. Nothing from Enigma.

Which only bothered Deanna even more. What the hell was he waiting for? Was he just messing with her more? Did he even have a plan? Did he even have ANYTHING? Would he even be there?!

She felt her hand slam into the couch she sat on within her changeroom – one of the perks of being a champion it seemed. She actually had a changeroom on par with Selena (though she often stayed on her bus) and the other ‘headliners’. Not that she cared one way or another, but she… she sighed… It was better this way.

She felt another sigh escape her, trying not to think about it but failing. There was no mistaking the looks she kept getting when she walked through the halls of the arenas. Whenever she passed her fellow superstars. It was always the same thing. Their eyes would see her face first, then look down, then back up and, inevitably, have that look on their face.

The look that showed that they believed she was crazy.

Feeling the exhaustion, even with the caffeine in her system, Deanna pressed a hand to her forehead to rub it with her palm. She couldn’t blame them, even if their looks hurt. Everyone thought that things were fine. That Enigma was gone. Or, at the very least, reduced to little more than pranks or something.

And Deanna wished for that to be true. She WANTED it to be true. She didn’t want Enigma in SCW anymore. She didn’t want to have to keep dealing with him. Didn’t anyone realize how AWARE she was of her deteriorating heath? Did they think she didn’t see it every time she looked in a mirror?

She was unravelling and she knew it! She was losing more and more of a battle she couldn’t win with her health. And she knew that if she kept it up, she’d…

But nobody cared about that. Just like nobody really cared about Jessica beyond ‘well-wishes’. Nobody saw her. Nobody inquired. They just went about their business as it pertained to them. Again, Deanna couldn’t blame them for that. Enigma wasn’t targeting them. But Jessica was still trapped. Trapped in some kind of dark ‘magic’, was that what it was?, that she had no desire to be part of. Jessica had never asked for this! She had been taken prisoner and abused! Why couldn’t anyone see that until she was free from Enigma forever, that Deanna couldn’t stop!

Foolish plan…

Those words, spoken by CHBK… Deanna couldn’t stop the tears coming to her eyes every time she recalled them – her mind echoing the very sound in her head as she had heard it. How could CHBK think that? She had watched the man, effectively, wash his hands of Deanna, declaring that, should she go through with this unsanctioned match of hers and lost, then the United States championship would be decided in that triple threat match between Reed, Jones, and Luz.

He’s given up on me…

It hurt. It hurt more than Deanna could even admit beyond a quiet sob as she lay on the couch, holding one of the pillows tight to her chest. She could let the tears fall from her eyes behind closed doors. She could let the pain hit her and not block it numb it. She could let everything just rampage through her – things she had repressed in the public.

The hurt. The abandonment. The failure she had every weeks of being played by that monster.

She just wanted her friend back. She wanted to see that smile again – that real smile – from Jessica. She wanted to see her friend running through the arena backstage halls again, eager to get to her next ‘interview’, not strapped to a bed muttering things about ‘darkness’ and being afraid. She wanted to see her happy for life.

But Deanna wasn’t a sorcerer or a warlock like in her daughter, Elsianna’s, games of Dungeons and Dragons. She couldn’t just wave a want like a Disney movie or something. Even all of this – the unsanctioned match, the title on the line, everything to draw out Enigma, she didn’t even know if it would work.

What if Jessica couldn’t be saved? What if Enigma refused to set her free if he showed up? What if he didn’t show up at all?!

The thought terrified and enraged the redhead. She had acquired the venue and the proper camera equipment to be remotely worked. She didn’t want anyone there but her and Enigma – to keep SCW safe. Not that she expected CHBK to do anything, especially now that he washed his hands of her – again that sting hit her and she rubbed her chest again, though her thoughts persisted.

What if Enigma didn’t show up? If she just stood there all night? Aside from the embarrassment, what else could she do? She couldn’t find him! She had tried! She had wasted so much money on private detectives, spent hours on websites and forums looking for something – ANYTHING!

This was the only chance she had left! To draw him out! And if she failed…

Again, more tears fell down her face. She didn’t know what she could do. For Jessica, for SCW… she was just so tired… Tired of all of this. The nightmares, the looks, the abandonment she felt from CHBK… from Selena…

Selena…

Her heart hurt again, but for a different reason. Perhaps it was her weakening state that allowed her guard to drop, but it was becoming harder and harder to not think about the platinum-blonde. Harder not to miss her or wish she was here with her.

In her mind, she could picture it. Selena marching around the changeroom, admonishing Deanna for her state of health, stating the pros and cons of this plan. She wouldn’t ‘wash her hands’ of Deanna like CHBK did, no. She would chastise her, sure, be the blunt voice of reason, of course, but then she’d shake her head and surrender to the situation, cuddling up behind Deanna and wrapping her arms around her to keep her safe from everything… like she always did…

Or used to…

She let more tears fall. It was safe to do so. No one was coming to talk to her. Not her peers, not CHBK, not Lucas Knight, not the interviewing staff, no one.

No one wanted to deal with the crazy redhead.

So, she let herself cry. Let herself feel the ache in her chest, aggravated by her anxiety and abandonment. It was her trigger, she knew.

Why not? Her parents had left her.
The town she was part of had left her.
Her sister had left her.
Her sister-in-law had left her.
Her wife had left her.

Everyone left, eventually. Even her children – her beautiful daughters and son. They’d grow up and leave one day. She couldn’t stop that – she wanted them to have happy, full lives. Oberon, her dog, would die one day. She couldn’t stop that. The neighbourhood were, more or less, friendly, but it wasn’t like Deanna and them were close.

In the end… she’d be alone. And for so long, at least since she had handed Selena’s those divorce papers, she had accepted that. Really, she had just let it ‘be so’ and not dwelled on it. She couldn’t. Her children needed, Jessica needed her, SCW needed her. She just… hadn’t had time to really mourn the loss beyond short bursts of emotional waves.

But all of this? The lack of sleep? Being pushed to the bring by Enigma? Feeling so abandoned… like she had as a child and more so as a teenager when she came out… those old wounds were still there… she just had forgotten about them.

Until all of this…

Another wave hit her and, not caring how it looked, Deanna turned her head and allowed herself to cry again into the pillow, letting the tears soak the material. She let herself miss her wife. Miss her touch. Miss her embrace. Miss the better days of SCW before ‘magic’ and ‘sorcery’ was brought into it. Back when they were The House of Frost. Or simply Selena and Deanna…

Slowly, though how long it took, she wasn’t sure, but it was enough for the queasiness to pass in her stomach, and her tears stopped falling, Deanna lifted her head from the pillow. She felt lousy, drained, and just awful.

“I should…” she sighed, trying to push herself up and off the couch. “Probably go apologize to Colleen.”

She knew she needed to, even if it wouldn’t have been accepted. Still, she owed to the young girl. She deserved to be praised for her efforts, not believing that Deanna hadn’t taken her seriously due to her distracted mind with Enigma. That needed to be straightened out!

Straightening out her clothes – she still had her wrestling attire – the United States champion took the few steps necessary to walk to the door of her changeroom. She would explain to Colleen about her distracted state, apologize profusely and ensure her that she was deserving of better from Deanna and, lastly, implore her understanding and forgiveness. She wasn’t sure if such a thing would be possible if Polly Pignotti was there.

There were a lot of harsh feelings between Polly and Deanna due to their wars over the U.S title, the conclusion of which being a Last Woman Standing match where Deanna had prevailed. This had made things rather… tense? Was that the right word? Tense between the two women. Add this and part of Deanna was convinced that she as going to get jumped by both women if Polly was there. Even so, she still wanted to apologize to Colleen.

Finally mustering up the courage, the redhead, leaving her things in her changeroom to collect later, made a quick exit of the room, walking down the halls until she spotted the other designated ‘lockers’ for the SCW talent. It didn’t take long after that for the young woman to see the ‘Body, Heart and Soul’ sticker…or was it some kind of decal?... on one of the doors. As she lifted her hand to knock, she suddenly drew the hand back as her nerves made their presence known in her chest, causing the young woman to slam her eyes shut and slowly breathe deeply.

Just a little longer… she whispered. Just a little longer…

Slowly, the pain faded again, allowing Deanna to lift her hand and knock on the door. It only took a few minutes for the door to open and for Colleen to appear before her. Immediately, upon seeing the champion standing before her, the young brunette crossed her arms over her chest.

“Come to gloat?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

For her part, Deanna could only shake her head. “I’ve done nothing to gloat about.” She sighed. “I actually wanted to apologize to you if you have a minute.”

Surprisingly, Colleen didn’t need a minute, for she quickly stepped aside and gestured for Deanna to enter. Quickly, Deanna did as instructed, stepping into the changeroom and spotting the other woman inside – Aisling Reed.

“Hey…” Deanna offered with a small smile. “Hope you’re doing well.”

The woman gave a shrug of her shoulders, which seemed to Deanna as the only response she would get. Awkwardly, she turned back around to see Colleen standing before her.

“Okay… so… yeah…” Deanna sighed. “I wanted to apologize.”
“You said that already.” MacDonald replied back. “But I don’t see what you have to apologize for. You won.”

“Maybe, but…” Deanna looked around the room, feeling a little light-headed suddenly. “I’m sorry but do you have any water? I feel…”

“Aisling?” Colleen asked, to which the other member of the BHS tag-team marched to the back, coming back less than a minute later with a plastic bottle of water, which she handed to Deanna. The redhead took it gratefully.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “I’ll pay you back.”
“It’s a bottle of water.” Colleen rolled her eyes. “Not a kidney. There’s tons of them at catering.”

Deanna, meanwhile, had screwed the cap off the bottle and drank half the contents, thanking the girls again afterwards. “Sorry.” She offered. “What I wanted to say was that I’m sorry.” She spoke a little faster, realizing she had ALREADY said that. “I mean about the match. I… When I warned you about Enigma, that was me being worrisome…and panicked… and anxious and… and I didn’t give you enough credit.” She sighed. “I stupidly forgot that – hey! – you’ve fought him before. And you’ve beaten him! And hey, unlike Jessica, you CAN wrestle and fight… really good too!”

“Thanks.” Colleen shrugged.

“Anyway… I never meant to disrespect you, but I ended up doing that anyway and I’m sorry, Colleen. Truly. I swear, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I wasn’t taking you seriously and I swear that I didn’t hear the official make that call when we were tangled up in the turnbuckle. If I had, I never would have kept going.”

“I know.”

The response truly stunned Deanna, the redhead gazing at her former opponent with surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Colleen offered with a shrug. “You’re not a bitch.”

Deanna remained silent for a moment, expecting more words to come from Colleen. When none did, she merely raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“What?” Colleen asked.
“I mean… I just wasn’t expecting that for the ‘proof’. It’s just… how do you know I’m not?”
Colleen shrugged for the umpteenth time. “You’re just not.”

“She’s got ‘bitch-radar.” Aisling said from behind the two, momentarily getting Deanna’s attention as the third woman pointed at Colleen.

“Radar?” the redhead asked Colleen, who simply… guess… shrugged. Deanna was sure the woman’s arms would fall off at this rate. “Anyways, I wanted to just… say I’m sorry and promise that when we fight again, I’ll be better. I promise…again.”

“Okay.” Colleen nodded. “So will I. Cause I’ll be better than you.”

Deanna laughed without meaning to at the jab, but, thankfully, Colleen didn’t take that for an insult. “Let’s hope so.” She offered her former opponent a smile. “Cause you easily almost had me back there-“

A knock on the door interrupted the three women, causing Deanna to turn towards it. “Probably Polly.” Colleen remarked, causing Deanna’s eyes to widen.

“Should I go?” she asked nervously. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me very much-“ But Colleen had already gone to the door and opened it, as she had done for Deanna. But when she opened the door, it was not Polly who stood there, by Gerald, the young camera operator. Deanna recognized him immediately. In fact, she had run into him several times throughout Breakdown episodes and after her matches. Obviously, she couldn’t speak to him while they were working – they both had jobs to do – but after or before they could chat. He was friendly, with a lovely girlfriend and baby on the way. A good man if Deanna was any judge of character.

“Have you guys seen…” Gerald stopped as he spotted Deanna standing there. “There you are! Boss said you were still around.”

“Knight or Alex?” Deanna asked.
“Knight.” He replied. “He said he’d like to have you do an interview with Jaina for a ‘backstage exclusive’.”
Deanna’s eyebrow shot up. “Lucas Knight said that?” She asked. “What about CHBK calling my stuff a ‘foolish plan’?”

“I don’t know what to tell ya.” Gerald shrugged. “All I was told was ‘Find Deanna Frost and get Jaina to interview her.”

“Oh… okay.” Deanna smiled a little. She hadn’t really been given much time on Breakdown the last few weeks due to CHBK’s limitations. Perhaps this was their way of apologizing or making amends? It wasn’t Breakdown air-time but it was more than enough! She could lay into Enigma and really push the challenge forward! “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She promised, to which Gerald gave a nod and turned to leave.

“Gerry, wait!” Deanna called out, regaining the young man’s attention. “How’s Claire?”

Hearing his wife’s name, the cameraman gave a smile. “Any day now.” He grinned. “I’ve been looking at my phone every ten minutes in case I have to run. Don’t know what it is, but I can’t wait to meet them.” He breathed. “Gonna be dad!”

“You’ll be wonderful.” Deanna smiled kindly. “It’s a magical thing being a parent. I speak from experience.”

“Yeah.” The man grinned before disappearing out of sight.

Alone with the girls again. Deanna offered a sigh of relief to Colleen. “I was worried it was Polly.”
“She’s over with your wife.” Colleen remarked. “Feel sorry for her.”

Opening her mouth to speak and correct the remark regarding her marital status, the redhead slowly closed it before choosing a different set of words. “Me too.” She settled on. “Selena’s in a mood, I am sure.”

“Yeah… I’m…” Colleen sighed. “I’m worried about her.” She confessed, casting her gaze out the door Gerald had just walked. Still, it wasn’t the doorway that Deanna’s eyes focused on. Rather, it was the look on Colleen’s face as she gazed out the door, thinking about Polly.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

She hadn’t meant to ask that out loud, but when Colleen’s head spun around to stare at Deanna, eyes wide in surprise, it was only then that the redhead realized that she had.

“What?” Colleen asked. “What did you say?”
“I…I said…that is…I mean…” Deanna stammered.
“She said you’re in love with Polly.” Aisling remarked. “And she’s right.”
“Aisling!” Colleen shot back angrily before returning her gaze to Deanna. “How did you…”

It was Deanna’s turn to shrug awkwardly. “The way you were looking at the door and talking about her. I’ve… I’ve seen that look before.”
“Where?”
“On my face… and on Selena’s.” Deanna offered with an awkward smile. “The ‘I wish I was with her right now because she’s my soulmate’ look.”

“That’s a look?” Colleen asked in skepticism.
“Sure.” Deanna nodded. “You just had it.”
“She’s got you there.” Aisling laughed. “Oh this is fun! We should have Deanna here more often!”

“I rather not.” Deanna admitted honestly. “I’d probably just ruin Polly and Colleen’s evening.” She added sadly before straightening herself up. “Well, anyway, I said what I wanted to. So… I should go and- AH!”

Again, her heart was speeding and her chest hurt, causing the redhead to clutch at it and lean on the nearby couch for a bit of support. Before she had stopped moving, she suddenly felt a pair of hands on her, gentle and soft.

Selena? Her mind tricked her for a microsecond, but, of course, her vision cleared it up when she saw Colleen next to her.

“You alright?” She asked, the alarm clear on her face and in her voice.

“Uhh…” Deanna managed to groan out, pushing herself up as hard as she could. “Fine. Just…” she threw a smile at Colleen. “Exhaustion, you know? Didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll take a nap after the interview or something.”
“Okay, but…” Colleen started but Deanna didn’t realize the woman had spoken until she was out of the locker room and walking down the hall.

Mentally, she cursed herself. She probably thinks I’m rude now. she groaned but was too scared to go back and apologize again! Instead, she kept walking, using her excitement to force the other emotions out.

An interview! She finally had some air time that she didn’t have to steal or hijack! She could apologize to SCW and to Knight even to CHBK for worrying them or letting them down! She could explain her reasoning without a ‘time limit’. She could make her case known and explain her side of the story with SCW’s endorsement (it would be on their YouTube channel after all!). She could try and state, without having to talk about a Breakdown match or anything, the dangers of Enigma and how he needed to be stopped.

Maybe she was being a bit too hopeful, but you try basically two or three days at a time without sleep, okay?! And after how many hours of crying and emotionally heaving from the abandonment issues, to have SOMETHING akin to well… anything BUT that? It was like a godsend to Deanna! With a bit more speed, she turned a corner to the ‘interview section’ of the backstage, where the SCW logo was hanging, a camera was set up, and Jaina Lancaster was waiting for.

“Jaina!” Deanna called out, waving her arm, which she regretted as she felt the wincing in her chest from, probably, a bit of anxiety. Still, it did the trick, for the young woman grinned and waved back, prompting Deanna to take the necessary steps over to her. “Good to see you! Thank you for waiting.”

She saw the smile falter on Jaina’s features as the young interviewer took in Deanna’s features. “You’re welcome but… Deanna, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You…” Jaina seemed to want to choose her words carefully. “You look like you haven’t sleep in days.”
“I…” the redhead sighed. “I haven’t.” she admitted with a sad shrug. “But we get through this, I’ll sleep in the back of the car while Eric drives me home! Girl-Scout’s honor!” she held up two fingers the sky.

“That’s not how the girl scouts do it.” Jaina smirked knowingly.
“Yeah, never was a girl-scout.” Deanna shrugged. “They were afraid I’d ‘hit on the girls’ or something. Cause, you know us lesbians. We wanna bang every girl we see, am I right?”

The redhead shook her head tiredly at the ‘logic’ she had had thrown at her throughout her youth in Kentucky, so much of it so off the beaten path of logic that Deanna wondered if it was even in the same zip-code as actual logic. Still, she dismissed the memories with a wave of her left hand, thankfully that movement not causing any chest issues. “Shall we?” she asked. “I’ll answer anything!”

“Good!” Jaina smiled. “I’m excited!”

“Me too! But… can you answer me something before we start?”
With a surprised tilt of her head, Jaina regarded the champion. “It’s usually me that asked the questions, De. Remember?”
“I know…” Deanna nodded, actually shy for the first time today. “But… did Lucas Knight REALLY okay this?”
“Yep.” Jaina nodded. “I think… and this is just my opinion. I think he feels bad for what CHBK did – like maybe the boss went a bit over the line with his remarks.”
“They… they did hurt a little. I can’t deny that.” Deanna admitted. “I hope we can make up as soon as this whole thing is behind us.”

“We’ll cover that, okay? We don’t have a time limit. We’ll edit what we have to later so it’s not too long, but take your time and answer however you need to.”

“Thanks, Jaina.” Deanna smiled. “I… I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” She smiled kindly. “I want Jessica back too.”

It was the encouragement Deanna needed, feeling her heart swell and pump harder in excitement. Really hard actually. Like if she looked down, she could see it pumping against her shirt…

“And… we’re on.” Jaina declared with a grin. “I’m backstage here with United States Champion Deanna Frost. Deanna, you got your win over Colleen MacDonald, easily an up-and-coming on the rise. Were there any concerns that your focus on Enigma would cost you that match? You seemed a little at odds there.”

Deanna nodded. Easy question right away. Thank you, Jaina…

“Colleen is a concern even at my full strength. She proved that tonight. I’ll admit my head wasn’t entirely focused on things and they should have been. That’s on me, not her. I managed to get a lucky shot in that saved me out there. Colleen is on the cusp of great things, so is Aisling and Polly Pignotti. I won’t be looking to be so distracted next time I face any of them.”

“Good to hear.” Jaina smiled. “Now moving on past that. The reason for your distracted state has been the same for months. The Enigma. After beating up at Rise to Greatness a few months ago, you’ve tried since then to goad him out of hiding to fight you. The result has been an unsanctioned match during Apocalypse. An undisclosed venue chosen by you, no cameramen, only automatic cameras. Just you and Enigma, if he shows up-“

“Oh, he’ll show up.” Deanna pressed, her hand flying up at the jolt of pain in her chest, which she tried to ignore. “He’ll show up because he knows if he doesn’t, then he’s a coward with no real power. And what’s there to fear from a man that’s afraid of little old me, am I right?” she laughed, though it was forced.

“Well, just to add to that. Earlier tonight, CHBK, the runner of SCW, announced that should you fail in your match to Enigma, then the title would be taken from you and given to the winner of the triple threat match between Scott Reed, Marie Jones, and La Pequena Luz. Seeing as how a title can’t really change hands during an unsanctioned match, CHBK would effectively be stripping you of the title. Thoughts on that?”

I think I need more water… Deanna breathed the thought, quickly recovering – were the lights almost this bright?

“Um…yeah that…” She smiled at Jaina. “Sorry, what was the question?”
“Your thoughts on CHBK effectively stripping you of the title if you lose to Enigma.”

“Right! That, yes.” Deanna smiled. “Yeah, sorry, um… Like I said, if I can’t beat Enigma, I don’t deserve to be United States Champion. Didn’t I say that earlier tonight? I can’t remember. I’m serious.”

“You did.”

“Oh good, I did. Thank you. I legit wasn’t sure if I said it or imagined the whole thing.” She breathed. “But yeah, that… do you mind if I sit down for a second?”

“Ummm… yeah.” Jaina asked, her confusion turning more into concern. “Deanna, are you alright?”

“Fine fine!” Deanna smiled as she settled on sitting on a chair that was nearby, still within the shot of the camera Gerald held. “Just tired. Match and all – and I don’t have anyone to cuddle in bed anymore. Sort of miss my Snow Queen wife, you know? But that’s what a divorce will do to you.”

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! The rational part of her mind screamed, but it was getting more and more drowned out by the pain in her chest and the heaviness of her head. TALK ABOUT ENIGMA! TALK ABOUT WANTING TO DO GOOD FOR SCW! WHY YOU…..

The voice seemed to fade in the fog of Deanna’s, her focus growing more and more on her chest pain and the heaviness of her head. “Sorry, I…I got into my own thoughts there.” She struggled, feeling her breath shorten a little. “Next question.”

“Deanna…you’re not okay.” Jaina tried.
“Who is around here?” Deanna shrugged. “Come on, I want to talk about Enigma. That masked bastard has been dodging me for weeks! Hasn’t accept my challenge! Hasn’t said anything! Not even a postcard! Do people still send postcards? AH!”

She felt the pain dial up to a near 10, causing her slam her eyes shut. “I… okay, yeah, I’m going to take your suggestion. I don’t think I’m doing that good. Everything’s getting a little tricky to do.”

“Like what?” Jaina asked.

“Like… well…” Deanna heaved. “Breathing for instance.”

“GERALD, GET SOME HELP!”

Deanna heard that, but for some reason Gerald was suddenly sideways and running up the wall. What was that about? Didn’t he know nobody lived on the walls? They were in the halls! All Gerald would find there is flies, spiders and maybe a bat or two. Maybe Batman could be there! He’d be able to help!

“Batman…” Deanna whispered as the pain gripped her chest, her heart hammering inside of it. “Batman would be awesome! He could beat Enigma! Cause he’s…Batman!”

It was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

[SnowQueenSCW]

The camera opens to… complete darkness for a few seconds. No ‘SCW graphic’. No ‘warning of material’ and ‘Viewer discretion’ advisement. No, it is just a black screen… until a single light turns on. An old, dusty lamp, shining its yellowish spotlight downward from where it hangs high above, revealing a single wooden chair, occupied by a woman. Nothing else is seen outside of this light. Not the details of the area, nor any sounds outside. The only sound is the faint buzzing of the lightbulb above.

The woman, dressed in simple black track pants and a matching t-shirt, has her red hair tied up in a tight ponytail. The light above plays its shadows over her features as she moves her head and glares into the camera.

So… Deanna Frost’s voice, despite its lower volume, echoes a little throughout the space. Where do I start…

She lets the sentence linger in the ‘void’ of darkness for a few seconds before tilting her head.

How about with relief. How about with ease? How about with purpose?

Does that surprise you, Enigma? Were you expecting me to be cowering in fear? Running away? Begging for mercy?

She takes another moment to let her questions settle. Well, maybe I was scared for a time, Enigma. Because after I beat you on the preshow in St. Louis, I thought it was over. I thought that being better than you, defeating you cleanly, would be enough for you to release your hold on Jessica Winters and understand that SCW – the world that I love and the people I adore – were stronger than you gave us credit for.

And… and that was my fault. I gave YOU too much credit.

Her jaw clenches angrily. Because I dropped my guard, and I let you get to me. After I pinned you and beat you, I thought that was it. I thought Jessica was freed as she stood by me. I thought things would finally go back to normal. That my dear friend had been saved and avenged… but you? You always had a backup plan, didn’t you? Always had a go-to if your ‘great sacrifice ritual’ failed!

The redhead scoffs. I should have seen that coming… what else is there to expect from a damn cockroach! she glares at the camera, a cold fury emanating from her. That’s what I see you as now, Enigma. You scurry around in the shadows, whispering your little cadence like it’s going out of style. You strike. And then you cower back into the dark as soon as the lights go on. And no matter how much you’re beaten or squashed, you keep coming back.

Deanna shakes her head. But you see, I’m relieved by that… Because after Rise to Greatness, and then Breakdown – where you set those explosives off… I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know where else to go to get you. SCW won’t have you. CHBK, our boss, heh… she chuckles sadly.  You think THIS is part of his plan? You think he is part of this?

Enigma, do you not get cable or satellite or services like Netflix or Internet in your little hole in the ground? She shakes her head slowly. CHBK has NOTHING to do with this! Look around!

She gestures to the cone of light surrounding her and the darkness surrounding that. There’s no SCW staff here. There’s no SCW ring. There’s no one here… but me.

You think you’ve gotten to CHBK and SCW? another small laugh escapes her. Enigma… they’ve washed their hands of you! They’ve ignored you! They don’t care what you are doing or what you are up to! That’s your ‘power’ in SCW! A firework prank here and there but what else? No more smoke. No more possessed people. The only reason you are even relevant now… is because of me! Because I’ve been hunting you down! If I had done nothing and moved on? No one would care about you!

She growls a little, her anger easily showing. But I couldn’t move on. I couldn’t just ‘let things be’. Because, yes, you nailed it. Because you still have a hold on Jessica. You still can control her like a pawn.

Because you could NEVER convince me – not you, not CHBK, not Lucas Knight, not even the SCW Universe – you could NEVER convince me that Jessica Winters chose to attack me of her own volition. That she willingly chose to light the ring on fire and chose to endanger not just her life but my own for your sick vendetta! You… you don’t know the first thing about her!

You don’t know what her favorite color is.
You don’t know what she likes in her coffee.
You don’t know what season she likes best.
You don’t know what her dreams are.

You know NOTHING of what’s in her heart, you bastard! So don’t you stand there in your fancy home and act like some prophetic god declaring this and that about me and about her! Don’t you fucking dare!

Her voice echoes more as her shouts finish, only for her to start up again.
But your words – the same prophetic crap I’ve heard from you before – WERE a relief to me, Enigma. A relief because, for weeks you were silent. For weeks, I didn’t know if things were happening. I lost sleep to nightmares. My head reeled with anxiety and fear, spiralling more and more as I racked it trying to get SOMETHING from you! A confirmation… An acceptance… anything!

And then you gave it to me… A long exhale escapes her. And just like that… everything was worth it. The sleepless nights, the nightmares of fire and burning. All of it….

Because now? I know you’re coming, Enigma… A smile breaks across her features. I know you’re on your way here. To this place… a place I don’t think you realize ANYTHING about… See this? she twirls her finger around the lit space, indicating the entire area, including the darkness.

You think this is CHBK’s doing. You think this is his plan to ‘protect’ me? And you think I see myself as ‘the victim’ here…

Oh, Enigma… she tilts her head, a playful smile dancing across her face. Who do you think picked the venue? Who do you think set this whole thing up? Who do you think is here waiting for you?

She turns her head around this way and that. Just me… this is all my doing. There’s no ‘lifted suspension’ after this for you. There’s no ‘return’ after this for you. There’s not even an official status of ‘SCW United States Champion’ even if you manage to beat me. Didn’t you hear the boss, Enigma?

You win… he just replaces me. The Red-Manned Lioness chuckles, actually amused. Your darkness? Your ‘powers’? Can easily ruin my life. Can easily do some damage to me here tonight… but SCW will simply keep turning. Keep going. Without you… without me. As if nothing happened.

And you’ll have NOTHING to show for it.

Let THAT sink in while you’re on your way here, Enigma. For all your ‘power’, SCW remains unaffected. All your ‘tricks’, SCW remains standing. And after this? SCW and Apocalypse will continue on…

Deanna reflects on this for a second. That’s almost humbling and beautiful, isn’t it? That the federation will be okay regardless? It’s sort of… again, relieving, to me. Guess that IS because of CHBK… I think I understand him a little better now… she snaps back to attention. Point is, Enigma… this has NOTHING to do with SCW. This is just between you and me.

A fight. A battle for survival. You won’t find a ring here. You won’t find entrance music or anything of the sorts. You’re coming in for a fight that you’ve never had before. You’re coming in for a war that has no rules. I WANTED it that way!

Because I realized it, Enigma. The reason you’ve had one up on me this whole time. Why, even in beating you in the ring, you could still get the last laugh and get one up on me time and time again. It’s because you don’t care about playing by the rules. You don’t care about the wins or losses. Your desire is simply destruction. Nothing more. Nothing is off limits in that regard. Not a person’s freedom, their hopes and dreams, their very soul… Nothing is ‘too far’ for you…

So… if you’re not going to play by the rules… then… emerald-eyes narrow. Then I’m going to play by yours.

Slowly, Deanna eyes the light and all the darkness surrounding her. I’m not the victim here, Enigma. Not anymore. And you’re not the predator heading my way to ‘destroy me’ just to get to CHBK. CHBK is too good, too strong, and too much of an incredible leader of SCW to care about one single person. With the lives of so many on his shoulders – he will cast me away soon as he has to.

I want him to. Because I rather burn in the fires of my own choices, alone, then take SCW down with me. NEVER would I want the latter to happen because of me.

No, Enigma. I am not the victim and you are not the predator, like I said. You are walking into MY ground. Into MY trap. And I… I am the one that is waiting for you. Because how this ends? Oh, it isn’t through a simple three-count. She shakes her head. Not with a simple tap-out. Not even a simple ‘knock-out’.

No, Enigma… This doesn’t end until I get what I want. Her eyes narrow a little again. Even if the cameras go off. Even if the world is no longer watching. Even if we run out of ‘air-time’, this does not stop until you release Jessica FOREVER! I do not stop until you release her for good! I do not stop until you say it, do it, and swear on all you are – on your very dark and twisted soul – that she is forever free of you!

Reaching behind her, the redhead slowly pulls something out of her pocket… a metal lighter. Turning it around in her hand, she slowly flicks it, creating a singular flame that dances before her features. The flame does nothing to the shadows already surrounding Deanna.

You said that I would be losing ‘everything’ by wanting this, Enigma. she chuckles. Yet, as with everything, you fail to see what is really here. I have NOTHING left to lose. My body? My mind? She grins tiredly. There’s not much left of either these days. A title that I can barely hang onto thanks to you? Reed… Jones… Luz… I respect them so much! They will become a champion far better than me! They will take the division to new heights – heights I could never achieve! And I can smile at my year-plus reign… knowing I didn’t regret a single step. That everything lead to something I will never forget and forever cherish. My family… will be fine. She smiles to herself. They always will be – that’s why you’ve been unable to destroy me despite your vows, Enigma. We Frosts are survivors. Always have been…

So, you see, Enigma? There’s very little of me you can take… but you… She grins, flicking the lighter off and closing the lid before putting it back into her pocket. You DO have something to lose, don’t you. That thing you’re bringing as a ‘party favor’. What was it you called it? Her expression darken. ’The Heart of Veil’?

The thing that is ‘more powerful’ than you? The thing that you seem to covet with such reverence. Something YOU actually care about. And you plan to unleash it on SCW?

Sticking her lower lip out a little, Deanna contemplates. So, what if I take it and smash it over your head? Or throw it to the ground and watch it break into a hundred or so pieces? Or utterly destroy it? Her glare returns back to The Enigma, her voice slowing a little. What if I took something that YOU love, Enigma, and I destroyed it? Or tortured it? Or warped it into something you couldn’t recognize? How would that be?

Would you understand what you put ME through? What you put Jessica through? Would you comprehend the justice behind it all? Would you be the one begging me to stop? Would you be the one begging for mercy? Would you be the one suffering for once?! Would nightmares fill your head?!! Would it be YOUR life that starts to unravel with such a loss?!! Would it be YOU that deteriorated as the days and weeks and months went by?!!! WOULD IT?!!!

Her voice echoes through the dark space, her face a mixture of pain, anger and barely held-together patience, like the lioness hungry for its food.

You can bring your ‘heart’, Enigma. I have mine! She places a hand over her chest. Unlike yours, mine beats every second for those that I love. It’s a heart that you can’t hold in your hand! It’s a heart you’ve never been able to conquer and will NEVER be able to conquer! It’s one that continues to beat with love for my friend, Jessica. That will do ANYTHING to free her from you forever. It’s a heart that will SHATTER you and your little reliquary!

And when I’m done… her eyes grow cold once more. When I am finished with you and after I’ve made you free Jessica from your grasp? After I’ve broken your heart – I am going to show the truth about you and your ‘powers’, Enigma. Because, like the rest of SCW… I am going to leave you here… in the dark. I will take Jessica back to SCW! And… like the rest of the SCW Universe… I’ll simply forget that you exist!

She leans forward in her chair, eyes glaring into the camera. And without me to speak your name, Enigma. Who will you have left to even hear you? Even want you? Or even believe you?

No one… she shakes her head. Not a single soul… Nothing but the sound of silence… as everything about you just burns out...

Checkmate, you son of a bitch. Slowly, the red-haired woman sits back in her chair, waiting patiently. I’ll be waiting…

The camera shot slowly fades on her before going back to black.